All In (26 page)

“I should have realized it before,” Natalia continued. “He was just sleeping with me to punish my family, to get revenge. Don't you see?” Her voice broke. Åsa saw that her friend's lips were totally dry. “He's out for revenge. Who knows who's on his side?” Her voice rose and she blinked hard, over and over again, her eyes dry. Åsa remembered that exact feeling, remembered the shock when the inconceivable happened, the inability to take in what couldn't be true, the free-falling sensation, like a nightmare that didn't end.

She swallowed. She didn't want to be here, not in the middle of this anguish. Her whole adult life had been about escaping anguish. She had no strategies for this.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she repeated. “Do you have any food here?”

Natalia coughed. And then again. Her body sort of crumpled up in a coughing fit. She wiped her mouth.

“Do you want me to get you some water?”

“It hurts so much,” Natalia whispered.

“I know.”
God, do I know
.

“It hurts everywhere. I can't do anything.”

Åsa nodded. She knew how it was, when all systems just shut down.

She got up and went to the kitchen. The fridge was completely empty. And there weren't any dishes in the sink. Natalia hadn't eaten. No glasses, no bottles, so clearly she hadn't been drinking either, but she had never drunk very much alcohol. Åsa filled a glass with water and brought it back to Natalia.

“Shouldn't you be with the family?” she said helplessly. “Should I call your mom?”

Natalia accepted the water glass and gave her a sarcastic look. It was a glimpse of the old Natalia, the one who hadn't had her heart crushed, the capable, intelligent Natalia. “No one has contacted me, and I'm grateful for that,” she said. “I'm not up to talking to them.”

She drank a little water and made a face, as if it hurt. “I'm really sick,” she complained hoarsely, curling up in the armchair. “Some kind of flu, I think. I'm nauseated, my stomach hurts, I have a sore throat.” She sniffled and put her hand on her chest. “It hurts here, in my heart.”

Natalia really looked sick. Unless . . . Something had occurred to Åsa, and then, without thinking, she said, “You're not pregnant, are you?”

The hatred that flared up in Natalia's eyes for a second made Åsa freeze. In all the years they'd known each other, Åsa had never seen her friend so furious. Red splotches flared up on her chalk-white throat.

“We used condoms,” she said hoarsely. “I had my period.” She took a deep breath. “And in case you'd forgotten,
I can't get pregnant
!” she screamed, and Åsa had to force herself not to back away.

Natalia was staring at her. The tendons in her neck were working, and she wasn't blinking, just watching Åsa with her eyes wide. “And I don't have the strength to pretend I don't care about it anymore. If you're my friend, stop being mean. Otherwise you can leave. Just go.”

Natalia's voice trembled. And then the fury was gone just as quickly as it had come. Replaced by completely excruciating pain. The abrupt mood swings frightened Åsa more than anything else. Because if Natalia lost her composure, then nothing in the world would be stable anymore.

Åsa swallowed. “I'm your friend,” she said quietly. “I know that this is unbearable and that he did this to you . . .” She shook her head and felt something very akin to hatred for David Hammar. “I can't even imagine how you're feeling.” She didn't really dare touch Natalia. They had never been particularly physical with each other, and everything about Natalia signaled that she wanted space. “But I'm your friend, Nat. And you're my friend, my only real friend. I didn't mean to say anything hurtful. I'm here, and I'm not going to leave you.”

Natalia's eyes were dry but shining. She looked feverish. More red splotches appeared on her neck. Maybe she really had the flu? And then she started shaking in the armchair. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably under the blanket. How could a person waste away so much in only two days?

“He won't take my calls,” she said. “And that hurts so much.” She sniffled and gave Åsa a look that was so full of desperation that Åsa wanted to cry. She would never forgive David Hammar for this.

“It hurts so much I think I've had a breakdown,” Natalia whispered.

“I know.”

“I'm not up to being strong.”

“No, I'll be strong now. I'm here. I'm at your side, just yours.”

“Promise me,” Natalia said, her voice small, like a child's.

Åsa reached out her hand and placed it unaccustomedly on Natalia's shoulder. “I promise,” she said.

“Thank you,” Natalia said.

And then she started to cry.

Finally.

37

 

“D
avid?”

David looked up from his computer. He'd been deep in concentration, and it took him a moment to adjust his eyes. Malin Theselius was in the doorway, looking concerned. “Yes?” he said.

“You have a visitor. The receptionist didn't know what to do.”

David furrowed his brow. His assistant, Jesper, was supposed to deal with any visitors, make sure that no one unauthorized made it in. They'd been besieged by journalists and reporters since Monday, but so far no one had managed to get in unannounced. “Where's Jesper?” he asked.

Malin gave him an admonishing look. “It's Friday night,” she said. “Jesper has been working almost around the clock since Monday.”

“So?”

“He fell asleep standing up in the kitchen a while ago.”

“You can fall asleep standing up?” David asked, deeply skeptical.

Malin stretched one shoulder. “At any rate, I sent him home.”

David looked at the time. It was after eight, so he decided he'd be lenient. But he wondered which journalist it was this time. It felt like he'd already talked to all of them. “Who is it?”

But Malin shook her head worriedly. “It's not a journalist,” she said. “It's Natalia De la Grip.”

He froze.

She'd stopped texting late Monday evening, and after that he hadn't heard a peep from her. How many times had he thought of her since then? A hundred?

“Should I ask her to leave?”

“No,” he said quickly. They couldn't show her the door. They were going to have to see each other sooner or later. He ignored the strange sensation, convinced himself that he didn't feel anything.

“Where is she?”

“She's waiting in the small conference room.”

He shut down his computer. “Thanks. And, Malin, you can go home.”

“I can stay if you want.”

But David shook his head. Malin looked completely worn out. “Go home. And don't come back before Monday morning. That's an order.”

She smiled tiredly, with big circles under her eyes. “Call if there's a crisis,” she said and left.

David stood up and went to the small conference room.

She was standing by the window, and something swept through him—a feeling, a sensation. She stood poised like a ballerina, her hair up in a tight bun. Apart from the glimmering pearls around her neck, she was dressed all in gray, and he happened to think of the term they used for the best of the corporate finance folks: the gray eminences. “Hi,” he said quietly to her back.

She turned around.

Those enormous eyes almost burned in her pale face. She looked serious, bordering on resolute. No smile, no warmth, and no outstretched hand. David hadn't expected any of these, but still—damn, did it hurt to see her like this.

She stretched. “Hi, David,” she said coolly.

It was like standing in front of a stranger. He noticed that her fingers, which were clutching her purse, were white, but otherwise she looked composed. Impossible to interpret.

“I won't take up much of your time,” she began, and her voice woke something in him. He watched her earnestly, searching her face for something. “But I need to know: was I part of the plan?”

He blinked. “What?” he asked, even though he had a sense where this was heading.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I've come to realize that you have your own reasons for wanting to take over Investum. No one in my family will tell me anything, but both you and I know that this isn't just about business.”

“No,” he said. “It's not just business.”

“But sleeping with me?” Her voice was calm, almost easy; just a little quaver at the end revealed any emotion. “Did I mean anything at all to you? Or was that also part of getting at my family?” She crossed her arms. “Everything was a lie, wasn't it? A game to cause as much damage as possible.”

David stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets so that she wouldn't see how they were shaking. He didn't know what to say, felt completely empty. The last several days must have been awful for Natalia. Every newspaper had scrutinized the De la Grip family in great detail: her parents, her brothers, their business dealings, and Natalia as well. He looked at her, standing there pale and dressed in gray, almost transparent. This private woman with her integrity—everything had been made public, in printer's ink, on blogs, and in the tabloids to varying degrees of awfulness. Some had blabbed about her infertility. Jonas Jägerhed had been profiled as well. Another one of Natalia's earlier boyfriends had been interviewed, had made a statement. Everything had been dragged out in the open. And that was partially his, Malin's, and Hammar Capital's fault. He felt sick when he thought of the information he had leaked about Peter and Gustaf, information about bonuses, benefits, and secret backroom deals that had reached the mass media through their efforts and damaged the men. It was a game—just a game really, but it had also unavoidably tarnished the rest of the family, hurt Natalia.

“Natalia, I . . . ,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“Did you know that Investum was in the middle of a bank deal that made them vulnerable? That was my deal, mine. We were at a sensitive point. A
confidential
point.” She took a step forward, and he saw red roses on her cheeks. Her eyes glistened, as if she had a fever. “Did you know that, David?” she asked, and her voice was hard and cold as arctic ice. “Was that why you sought me out with your fucking flattery and flirting?”

David slowly shook his head. The pain in Natalia's face was almost more than he could bear. She deserved so incredibly much better than this.

And yet . . .

If he could turn back time, would he have done anything differently? Would he not have done all the things he had done? The truth was that he didn't know, because he couldn't imagine a scenario in which he and Natalia hadn't gotten to know each other, hadn't become lovers.

“I suspected something was going on,” he said. “You know as well as I do how rumors get around. My job is to sift out the facts from the rumors, and yes, I had my suspicions that a merger was underway.”

Her face went gray, and he knew what she was thinking, that she was remembering how close she'd been to confiding in him, before he'd stopped her.

“And I said . . . ,” she began. Her voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat before she began again. “I told you . . .”

“You didn't reveal anything,” he said curtly. “Nothing that I didn't already know.” That was true. But he realized that Natalia would still blame herself.

He clenched his fists in his pockets. He had figured he would hate himself. And he had figured that Natalia would hate and despise him. He had convinced himself that it would be hard but bearable.

But what he hadn't counted on was that Natalia would blame herself and that that would feel as if someone had punched him over and over in the chest until he almost couldn't breathe. If unbearable pain existed, then that's what this felt like.

 

Natalia looked at David's expressionless face. He hadn't said very much, mostly listened, his eyes cool and his jaw clenched. She didn't really know what she'd hoped to get out of seeing him, but seeing him had felt necessary, seeing the man who'd tricked her in almost every conceivable way.

Åsa's visit the day before yesterday had been a turning point. After she'd cried herself hoarse, she slept, with the help of Åsa's pills. When she woke up the next morning she'd been able to breathe again in some sense. Åsa had called Gina, and when the housecleaner had laid out food on the table, Natalia had obediently eaten. She had slept for a few more hours and cried a little more. But then she'd realized she
had
to see David. She needed some kind of resolution. Whatever that might mean.

Showering and getting dressed had taken every bit of her energy, and she had forced herself to focus on the practical. The flu had made her weak, and she'd had to rest frequently as she got herself put together. Even so, she almost hadn't had the strength to make it to Hammar Capital's offices. She'd had to stand down in front of the building and wait until she gathered the strength to go up. Her courage almost failed her many times. And it wasn't until she'd reached the almost empty reception area that she noticed what time it was. It was as if she'd been living outside time and space the last few days.

She'd been on the verge of turning around in the doorway, but the friendly blond communications director had shown her in. Natalia glanced around the room. It was eye-poppingly lavish, smelling of money and capital and success. Every item and painting looked priceless. The furniture and décor had obviously been chosen to impress. This was what David was, superficial and obsessed with money.

And when Natalia looked at David's stiff, obstinate face, she knew it was good that she'd come. That everything David had been accused of was true. That what had existed between them was an illusion.

A lonely, easily duped woman's desperate fantasy.

Yes, he'd used her. But she had also allowed herself to be used, even though she should have known better. Well, fine. Strangely enough, this meeting with David restored some kind of energy to her. Now that she saw the cold look in his eyes and realized that she had never meant anything to him, she finally reached bottom. And from the bottom there was only one way to go—up.

Natalia focused her attention inwardly, searching for something, and finally finding it, the emotion that would keep her going from this point forward, which would give her strength and everything else she needed: rage.

Fine, because now she could take all the grief and shame and guilt she felt and put them to work for her.

“Good-bye, David,” she said. She turned on her heel and left, her back straight, her gait steady.

She would take all her rage and do the only thing she could do.

She would fight.