All In (25 page)

34

F
eeling as if she were still wrapped in a thick fog of shock, Natalia took a taxi out to her parents' villa in Djursholm. Her mother, father, Peter, Louise, and Åsa were already there. Her father's face was like a stiff mask, and he hardly greeted her. Peter looked like he'd aged several years in just a few days. Her mother and Louise each sat, straight-backed in antique chairs, wringing their hands, like pale women from the 1800s. All that was missing were the smelling salts and fans.

Her mother's housecleaner, Gina, the same young woman who cleaned for Natalia, served them tea. She slid through the room silently, moving among them. Peter waved her away in irritation, but Natalia gratefully accepted a cup. “Thank you so much,” she murmured. Åsa was standing by the window talking on her phone. She took a cup of tea without looking at Gina.

Natalia turned to her father and brother. “What's the news?” she asked.

“There will be an extraordinary general meeting in two weeks,” Peter said bitterly. “He wants to re-vote on the board.”

“Do we know who he's suggesting?”

“Yes. And there's not a single name from the old board, not even anyone from the family, and we own the company. It's so fucking arrogant.”

Swapping out the whole board—that was so unusual that Natalia wasn't sure she'd ever heard of it being done. Replacing every single one, not utilizing the expertise and knowledge that was there; it was a motion of censure that was so arrogant she never would have believed it from anyone else. But she could believe it from David.

“He wants to take over completely, wipe us out; there's no doubt about it. That son of a bitch.”

“Has anyone called Eugene?” Natalia asked.

“Why should we call him?” Peter's voice was snappy as he cast an unobtrusive glance at his father. Åsa finished her phone call and looked at Natalia.

Mother and Louise didn't say anything. It was like a chamber play, claustrophobic and stuffy with a frighteningly predictable plot. Her father's icy fury, Peter's overwrought breakdown, Åsa's gloomy face. And an ending that would change everything.

Natalia set down her cup. She hadn't eaten all day and was starting to feel dizzy. It was so quiet. Every time someone said something, it sounded louder than usual. All of Djursholm was quiet. No one was home at this time of year. It was like a ghost town of million-kronor mansions where only the gardeners and cleaning-service employees moved about discreetly, like shadows. “I suppose we're going to have to talk to everyone who holds A-shares,” she said, realizing her voice sounded calm. Her whole body felt as if it was about to fall apart. Her heart was racing, her lungs heaving; sometimes she thought she went numb for a moment, but then she forced herself to focus on the practical matters, refused to let herself feel. Every now and then, an emotion managed to force its way in, a streak of profound despair, but so far she'd managed to hold it at bay.

She wondered how much longer she would be able to do so. She glanced at Peter, who had his hands in his pockets. He must have a bunch of keys in his pocket that he was squeezing over and over again. The jingling sound was driving her crazy. “Do
you
know anything about why he's doing this?” she asked.

“Because he's insane,” Peter hissed back.

Åsa stared at Natalia. At that moment, Natalia wished she'd never confided in her about what she'd done with David. What was happening was so egregious. The shame, the sadness, the rage—all of these painful emotions would be easier to bear if she didn't also have to deal with Åsa's reaction. She looked Åsa in the eye and then turned back to Peter again. “This could have to do with something else, couldn't it?” she asked persistently.

“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.

But despite his denial, Natalia knew she was on the right track, because Peter suddenly looked pale. She continued, “I know something happened between you at Skogbacka. Could what's happening now have something to do with that?”

“What are you talking about?” her mother asked indignantly. “Natalia, that man is crazy, a nouveau-riche upstart who's trying to make a name for himself at our expense.”

“But ...,” Natalia began. She wasn't trying to defend David, but she wanted to understand what was at the root of this. What were they hiding?

“He's done this before,” her father said curtly. It was the first time he'd said anything since Natalia had arrived. “To other companies. I really never thought he would dare take on Investum. But he's done this exact same thing before. On a smaller scale.”

“Tell me,” Natalia said.

“The moment David Hammar gets it into his head that someone has wronged him, he takes his revenge in every way he can,” Gustaf said, and Natalia knew that what he was saying was the truth. She knew it because she knew David. She looked around for a place to sit. She found a chair.

“David Hammar already crushed one man who went to Skogbacka with him, a classmate who hadn't done a thing to him, but I suppose David imagined something. He took over the man's company and completely butchered it.”

Mother sniffled softly.

“And then David seduced the man's wife,” Gustaf continued. “Just to humiliate him completely. That poor man never recovered.” Her father looked at her. “Hammar is a psychopath, Natalia, he has no conscience.”

Peter nodded. “He's crazy,” he said. “You could already tell at school. He couldn't accept the rules that everyone else followed. He never understood how things worked. And now he does this.”

“But that's terrible,” her mother said. “Can't he be reported?”

Natalia was feeling sicker and sicker. Was Peter right? Were these the acts of a crazy man? How many people had David gone after?

He'd seduced his enemy's wife to humiliate him.

Her head started spinning. Everyone else's agitated voices floated around her.

David had tricked her. Suddenly she saw that very clearly. David had used her to get at her family.
That's
what their original lunch had been about. He had been looking for weaknesses. He wasn't just out to take over Investum. He wanted to crush her entire family. Using her. Terrible things had happened between David and Peter—hazing, abuse, whipping—and now David was exacting his revenge.

Åsa was trying to catch her eye again, but Natalia looked away. She didn't want to believe that this was true, but there were heaps of evidence, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

She had continued to text David, over and over again. Countless times, almost compulsively. He hadn't responded a single time. Of course he hadn't. Because she meant nothing. She was just a means to achieving a goal, a pawn in a dirty game. She was so stupid, so unbelievably stupid. She wanted to double over and wail. The shame was almost unbearable. Shame at what she was, at what she had believed she'd meant to him. And guilt at what she'd done . . . She closed her eyes. Oh my God, what had she done?

35

“L
et's go sit on the terrace,” David said, getting a beer from the fridge in their office kitchenette. It was a warm evening, and there were plenty of nice chairs up there.

Malin and Michel—the only ones from the management group who were still at the office—each grabbed a bottle and nodded. The head of personnel and the CFO had gone home fifteen minutes earlier. The last of the rest of the staff had also left for the day. Only the three of them remained after what had definitely been the most eventful day in Hammar Capital's history.

“Good job,” David said, and they clinked their bottles in silent cheers before they each sat down on the terrace. The sun had sunk down toward the horizon, and the water—the terrace had a terrific view of it—sparkled blue with some fire-colored hues.

“What a day,” said Malin, kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on a stool.

“Mmm,” said Michel, and he took a big swig from his chilled bottle.

The press releases had continued to flow out of Hammar Capital all day long. The office had been practically besieged. Malin and her assistants had worked tirelessly and effectively, and David was proud of them. They were a good team. And Malin had appeared on every TV channel today, both on regular TV and online, sounding calm, collected, and professional.

“Good job, yourself,” she said, but he could tell she appreciated the praise.

David had also been on pretty much every TV station. He'd done a number of interviews from the conference room in front of the Hammar Capital logo. He'd answered the same questions that Malin had fielded, over and over again for what felt like hours. Every single financial journalist he'd ever talked to had sought him out, and he had made time for most of them. He was sure he'd never talked so much in his life.

“It's going to be a long day tomorrow, too,” Michel said.

“The next several
weeks
are going to be long,” Malin predicted.

“And while you two put on a good show on live TV, our staff did a wonderful job back here at the office,” Michel said. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were wrinkled, and for once he wasn't wearing his suit jacket. He was right. Their team had manned their positions. Everyone had worked hard and intently. David, who had handpicked every single one of his coworkers, was proud of them.

“If we sold everything today, we would make a real killing,” Michel mused. Investum's stock price had shot through the roof. The papers were already calling this the Hammar effect.

“I'm going home,” Malin said, yawning behind her hand. “My husband is starting to forget what I look like.”

“And your children?”

“They're so content to have their father at home,” Malin said, making a face. “I'm pretty sure my chances of winning a gold medal for motherhood have passed me by.” She set down her beer bottle and put her shoes back on. “See you tomorrow.”

David and Michel said good-bye to Malin and continued sitting there next to each other. Michel drank his beer with his eyes closed. It was totally quiet now that all the phones were turned off. Listening to all the ringing had been too much, and they'd decided to shut everything off an hour ago. They wouldn't be contactable for a few hours. David only had his private phone on, but the volume was off. He looked at it where it sat silently. The texts from Natalia had stopped coming a while ago.

“It's going to be brutal tomorrow,” Michel said.

“Oh yes,” said David.

The papers had already started digging into their backgrounds. It wouldn't be long before someone started wondering about the Skogbacka connection. The most bizarre rumors were already circulating, and they were still just a faint breeze compared to what was to come.

Tomorrow Malin would start leaking the information she had on Gustaf and Peter. Things that would not be at all favorable to them. Things that would discredit their positions at Investum, things involving secret agreements and favorable deals. Of course it would affect the entire De la Grip family, he thought. Even Natalia.

“Have you talked to her?” Michel asked slowly.

David shook his head. It was difficult for him not to feel like a complete asshole. “And you?” he asked, shoving aside the almost overwhelming feelings of guilt. “Have you heard anything from Åsa?”

Michel raised one eyebrow sarcastically. “Yes, I have,” he said. “Åsa left a very detailed voice message on my cell.” He scratched the stubble on his scalp. “That woman could win Olympic gold in insults. But after that, nothing. It's almost worse that she doesn't say anything.”

“They want to see us—the family, I mean.”

Michel brought his beer bottle to his lips and drank. He set the bottle down. “What did you say?”

“We're going to see them tomorrow. Malin is going to arrange a neutral location, probably the Grand Hôtel. We don't really want them here. And it's not like we're going to be welcome at their place.” David laughed joylessly. “They'll be armed to the teeth with lawyers.” He gave Michel a warning glance. “And you can count on Åsa being there. She's their best.” He hoped Natalia wouldn't be there. There was no reason for her to attend, but you never knew.

“Well, that is going to be one delightful meeting,” Michel muttered.

“Exactly.” But David was glad he'd told Michel about Skogbacka. Even though he hadn't told him everything, of course. Not the part about Carolina.

“Maybe we ought to go home and get a little sleep,” Michel said, stretching so that his joints popped. “Are you going too?”

“Soon.”

Michel said good-bye and left, but David sat there, looking at the sky.

He had fantasized for so long about how this moment would feel, how it would be to finally get his revenge. In a way he'd thought it would fulfill him, fundamentally change him, that the act of breaking up and destroying Investum would feel good.

He sat for a long time as the midnight sun disappeared and the sky grew dark. The strange thing was that he didn't feel anything. He was just empty.

36

 

T
he next day Åsa arrived at the Grand Hôtel with Gustaf and Peter in Investum's company car, complete with chauffeur. The mood in the car was tense. Even more Investum lawyers followed in the car behind them, like some kind of suit-wearing private army.

The cars stopped, and everyone got out and walked into the hotel in a line.

David and Michel were already waiting in one of the conference rooms, serious and unwavering.

As Gustaf and Peter sat down at one end of the table, the lawyers fanned out in an almost comical fight to get the best, most strategic, most prestigious seats. Åsa nodded briefly to a junior attorney that he should move, and then she sat down next to Gustaf. She crossed her legs, heard her thin pantyhose rustling, and forced herself to look unaffected, almost bored, before she looked Michel in the eye for the first time. They hadn't seen or spoken to each other since they'd had coffee in Båstad. But that wasn't so strange, she thought morosely, given that he must have been extremely busy planning his hostile takeover of her boss's company.

Michel's long eyelashes trembled when their eyes met. His chest heaved inside his garish shirt—she didn't think she'd ever seen a man wearing such a pink garment. She nodded cursorily, as if they were strangers, as if he didn't concern her in the least.

Somehow he had managed to penetrate her defenses, but she would never let him see that. Her only goal today was to get through this meeting without losing her cool. Otherwise she had no expectations that this would be anything other than a massacre.

She had consistently advised Gustaf not to attend this meeting. But did Sweden's leading patriarch listen to her? No. So he, Peter, and all the young legal bucks had only themselves to blame. She would wash her hands of it. As the only woman here, she would observe what happened. And then, she thought, she would go home and get hammered on everything in her bar cabinet. Not her most Nobel-Prize-worthy plan, but still. She brusquely ordered one of her subordinates to keep the minutes. She absolutely refused to be a damn secretary.

 

The meeting degenerated rather quickly. Investum's lawyers started talking in loud, superior voices. They blurted out a continuous stream of legal complaints and objections, read aloud from memos, and waved their gold-signet-ring-laden fingers. It was downright tiresome, and Åsa had to pinch her thigh to keep herself from yawning. She glowered at Michel while her subordinates kept rattling off nonsense phrases they must have been practicing all night in front of the mirror.

Gustaf sat by in haughty silence. He alternated between shooting David icy glares and ignoring him completely.

Peter did not succeed in looking equally unfazed. He was obviously shocked and aggrieved. His face was red, and he radiated a corona of rage. Peter ought to be careful that he didn't have a heart attack or something.

Åsa looked at the two men from Hammar Capital, watching them as she pretended to write on her notepad.

David Hammar really was unbelievably attractive, like a fucking supermodel. And he looked so controlled sitting there in his tailor-made suit, as if he weren't physically capable of being nervous.

Åsa would never,
ever
admit it, but David scared her a little.

She moved on to the man next to him, steeling herself against the feelings she was so reluctant to accept. Michel was also calm, of course, even though she could tell from his black eyes that he had emotions. He wasn't able to look quite as cold as David. Michel had always had pathos and passion and couldn't quite hide that now. His insanely long eyelashes fluttered. Damn, he was hot.

They weren't getting anywhere at all.

Åsa's head was starting to throb. She gave Gustaf a meaningful look.
End this.

Gustaf nodded, as if he'd heard her. Despite his poorly hidden disdain for women, he usually listened to her advice—it had something to do with her having an even more refined pedigree than he did, combined with the fact that she never got into a conflict with him—and after yet more meaningless phrases and poorly veiled threats, they marched out. The owners, her, and a whole mob of lawyers.

No one shook hands with anyone.

 

“What do we do now?” asked Peter when they sat back down in the car.

He was looking at Åsa, but she was staring out the window.

“We'll have to wait and see,” she said, thinking it didn't matter what Michel did to her or her boss, remembering how he'd tricked her with his fancy words about wanting to talk and get to know her, all the while planning this goddamned takeover.

Åsa left the car when they got back to Investum, quickly went into her office, and shut the door behind her.

No matter what he did, she still wanted that damn Lebanese.

 

The next day, after working considerably more than she was actually comfortable with, something struck Åsa. She stood up from her desk chair, walked out into the hallway, and knocked on Peter's office door. He looked at her blearily. Åsa hadn't noticed before, but Peter had started going gray at the temples. He was only a couple years older than she and already going gray. And he looked like shit, haggard and drawn. She wondered if he'd been drinking. Not because she judged people for drinking, but despite his Russian lineage, Peter couldn't hold his liquor very well.

“What?” he snapped at her. He looked like he was losing it. If he didn't watch out, he was going to make Louise a widow.

“When was the last time you and Natalia talked?” Åsa asked. She didn't have the energy to feel empathy for Peter and the sad choices he'd made. If people wanted to screw up their lives, that was their business. She was busy with not learning shit from her own mistakes.

Peter just shook his head in irritation. His phone rang, and he waved her away.

Åsa returned to her desk. She put her legs up and stared at the ceiling. Should she worry? She wasn't very good at worrying. People thought she was a good lawyer because she seemed levelheaded and cool, when really she just didn't care very much.

She studied her hands and her nails. She wanted a manicure, a massage, and sex, not crisis, chaos, and emotions. She hated emotions. She closed her eyes, but opened them again when her secretary knocked. Åsa raised her eyebrows at her.

“You have a phone call. She called the main number, a woman named Gina.”

“Gina?” Åsa asked. The name didn't ring any bells. It sounded vaguely foreign, and Åsa didn't know any foreigners. Aside from Michel, of course. She gave her secretary an irritated look. The whole point of having a secretary was not having to take unimportant calls all the time, right?

“I think you'd better take this call,” her secretary said calmly.

Åsa sighed. “Put it through then.” Her phone rang and she answered. “Yes?”

“Is this Åsa Bjelke?”

“Who is this?”

“My name's Gina. I'm Natalia De la Grip's housecleaner.”

The worry was so immediate that it felt as if someone had punched Åsa in the chest. She'd received a phone call like this before, an unexpected call that came out of nowhere, a polite call that degenerated into chaos.

I regret to inform you, everyone is dead.

Is there anyone you can call?

The periphery of her field of vision started to go black, and she wanted to collapse to the floor.
If anything's happened to Nat, I'm going to kill myself.
She felt no hysteria. That was simply a statement of fact. Because there was only so much loss one person could take, and Åsa had never had the illusion about herself that she was particularly strong. If Nat died, she would die too. That's just how it was. She squeezed the phone so hard her hand hurt.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

The calm voice on the phone snapped Åsa out of it. She pushed aside her morbid thoughts. The woman sounded much too calm.

“I'm sorry,” said Åsa, her voice trembling. “I don't know who you are, but what is this about Natalia?”

A short silence followed. “I'm worried,” Gina said on the other end of the line. “Natalia won't let me in. She paid me to clean, but I can't get in.”

Finally Åsa understood. “You're her cleaning lady?” A fuzzy memory of an earnest-looking foreign woman came to mind.

A short silence followed before the woman calmly repeated, “Her housecleaner, yes.”

Åsa had already picked up her purse and started for the door. “I'm on my way over.” She stopped. And then, not entirely comfortable with gratitude, awkwardly said, “Thank you for calling me.”

But by then the maid—the housecleaner—had already hung up.

 

Åsa took a taxi and got out in front of Natalia's building just a few minutes later. She called up from the front door. When there was no answer, she started systematically pressing each of the buttons until someone let her in.

The elevator creaked slowly upward, and that gave Åsa time to continue blaming herself. In the middle of all the chaos, she hadn't had a chance to think about how Natalia was doing. Fuck, she knew how into David Natalia had been. But her egotism and preoccupation with Michel had made her forget that this whole mess was even more personal for her best friend.

For Natalia to be let down again by a man wasn't good. Jonas's betrayal, the way he'd dumped Natalia right when she was grieving the news that she wouldn't be able to have children—that had been terrible to see. And Åsa—she knew she was a dreadful person because of this—hadn't known how to handle Natalia when she broke down after Jonas left her.

Poor Natalia, who had always fought for a place in the family, who had struggled against the feeling of never being good enough, who wasn't really confident in herself as a woman. Nat had loved Jonas, Åsa was sure of that. Her love had been loyal, and Natalia had wanted to have a family. Being unceremoniously dumped, in that way and for that reason, had really hurt her self-confidence as a woman. And then David Hammar had shown up, and Natalia had fallen hard for him.

Not good at all.

Åsa listened to the rattling chains and the creaking of the aging iron elevator. Natalia was strong, but there was also a frailty to her that she probably didn't think Åsa was really aware of. But Åsa knew that Natalia always held that darned frailty in check with work and rest and the occasional burst of exercise. The question was, what had happened now?

She rang the doorbell. When no one answered, she didn't stop, just kept ringing and ringing. When there was still no answer, she started knocking on the door. And then she yelled, “Open this fucking door!”

A neighbor peeked out, her security chain still on.

Åsa ignored the neighbor. “Natalia!”

The neighbor's eyes widened.

And then Åsa heard the lock click.

The door slid open, and Natalia's face appeared. “What do you want?”

Åsa's relief gave way to anger. “What the hell, Nat, you scared the shit out of me. Let me in before some idiot calls the police.”

Natalia nodded at her neighbor. “It's okay,” she said in a hoarse voice. “We know each other.” And then to Åsa, “Come in.” She held the door open, and Åsa stepped inside.

It was dark and smelled stuffy. Mail and newspapers lay untouched beneath the mail slot. Natalia shuffled along ahead of her. She had a blanket around her shoulders; her hair hung loose and unbrushed, and she was wearing a pair of shabby slippers. Even though the sun was out, the apartment was shrouded in darkness, and Åsa noted that the shades and curtains were all drawn. This couldn't be good. And Natalia's appearance. She looked like she was having a breakdown.

Åsa fought the wave of panic she felt, fought her desire to flee and the anguish that surrounded Natalia like a formless cloud, oh so contagious. She hadn't known that before therapy: anguish is contagious.

“Have you talked to J-O?” Åsa asked. Her voice sounded far too loud in the silence.

“I called his assistant and said I was sick. I'm just not up to talking to him.”

They went to the living room, and Åsa sat down on one of the sofas. Natalia sat down in an armchair. With her feet pulled up under her, she looked like a pale teenager. She was hollow-eyed, her skin practically transparent. Åsa tried not to show how shocked she was.

“Have you eaten anything?” she asked.

Natalia put her chin on her knees. She had gray circles under her eyes. “I Googled everything David has ever done,” she said, her voice hollow. She pointed to the printouts that lay in drifts around them. David's face was visible in the photos. The headlines varied. “All the people he's ruined over the years,” she continued. “Women he's slept with, families he's destroyed. Did you know he bought a mansion once just to tear it down? A historic building? Here.” She held out a newspaper article. When Åsa didn't take it, she dropped it and picked up another. “And here. This man was his enemy, so David had sex with his wife. He was behind their divorce.”

“It doesn't say that, does it?” Åsa said, shocked.

Natalia shrugged. “I checked that social media website, Flashback. David Hammar has quite a reputation there. He's clearly a dick,” she said in a conversational tone. “They use other words there, too, but they're all variants on the same theme.” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger over and over again.

“Natalia . . .”

“I see it now,” Natalia interrupted. Her voice was suddenly animated and combative. Her eyes seemed to burn in the closed-in darkness. Åsa felt a cold force creep under her skin.