The Devil You Know (32 page)

The office buildings had not changed one bit. The sleek granite casing of the midtown skyscraper still glittered in the thin sunlight. Rose took a deep breath and walked into the lobby.

Yes, it was as she remembered. Marble streaked with the palest pink. Receptionists in pearls, oriental rugs. They’d changed the art, but it was the same sort of stuff. Stuff that screamed dollars.

A group of kids her own age were clustered around reception. There were about twelve of them; only one was a girl, a keen looking chick in a nondescript fawn dress and cardigan. Rose was wearing a Donna Karan navy suit, cut beautifully, with a skirt that sat just above the knee. She had teamed it wi.th a pair of CK pumps, plain gold studs in her ears, neutral make-up, and a leather-strapped watch.

It had been a rookie error to let Jake see her inChanel. No need to draw attention to the money she had. Rose didn’t want anybody

at this place noticing her until she’d got what she wanted.

She walked over to join the others.

‘Hi.’ Rose smiled at them briskly. ‘I’m Rose Fiorello.’

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P,.ose suppressed a laugh.

‘This way.’ The doors slid open and Joan marched ahead of her

down a corridor. They entered a large, sterile room with a projector

screen, a long, empty table, and a few chairs lined up in the front.

The male interns were already seated. They had left open two

chairs at the very back. Rose slid into one, and almost as soon as she had sat down -Joan’s body stiff with dislike beside her - a man entered the room and dimmed the lights, walking up to the projector screen, so that only his corpulent frame was lit up from the machine.

Rose gasped.

It was William lothstein.

‘Shh!’ Joan hissed.

‘My name is William J. P,.othstein, and I am the Senior Director

of Public Relations at lothstein Realty.’

‘Good morning, sir,’ chorused the young men. ‘Honoured, Mr P,.othstein,’ chirped Joan inaudibly.

Rose said nothing. She knew a little more about the business now.

William must really have no talent, she thought, if they’d shoved him into PlY. That was a ghetto job. Of course, he ‘ran’ the division, with a million women reporting to him. Like that busty secretary he’d had when she’d gone to see him.

‘You’re here today because you’re very fortunate. Or very

ruthless. Either one works.’ lothstein smiled at his own joke. ‘This is one of the most prestigious firms in New York, with a portfolio valued at over a billion dollars. Our yearly turnover is routinely in the hundreds of millions.’

He clicked his fat thumb on a button, and pictures of buildings

flashed up. A prestigious hotel, skyscrapers, a row of luxury Brooklyn brownstones.

‘You’ll be assisting the executives who do deals like this. It is an incredible opportunity to learn, fought for by hundreds of applicants. You won.’ P,.othstein’s eyes narrowed. ‘You will be expected to be punctual and to do whatever you are asked to do. You will address your bosses as “sir”, unless told otherwise. Files on your performance will be kept in Human Ikesources and will determine your future employment here.’

Joan shot Rose a nasty look.

‘This is an expansion period for Rothstein. Many of our new deals

have proven to be extremely lucrative.’

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He clicked up a few more pictures, then stopped on one gleaming skyscraper.

‘This deal was one of our most successful in the last five years. After sales were completed, it netted the company twelve million in after-tax profits.’

Rose stared. She recognised the image flickering on the screen. It was her father’s old building. In the space where Paul’s Famous Deli had been was a nice, corporate little Starbucks.

‘Well.’ William Rothstein clicked the projector off and turned up the lights. ‘Remember that only two of you will wind up hired. Now get to work.’

Rose stood up with the rest, lowering her eyes, just in case he recognised her.

Get to work, huh? My goddam pleasure.

‘Mr White, Rose Fiorello is here.’

The secretary hovered in the doorway of her boss’s office. She was nothing like Joan; petite, large-breasted, wearing a skirt that was about an inch too short, platinum-bleached hair, and three coats of mascara. Her name was Maw-Beth and she was from Texas:. 5he regarded tose as though she were a rattlesnake.

‘Oh, yeah. Show her in,’ Richard White responded without enthusiasm. ‘

MaryBeth turned to Rose. ‘You can go in,’ she said, unnecessarily.

lose walked through the door and gasped.

White’s office was nothing short of spectacular. It had huge floor to-ceiling walls with breathtaking views of midtown. She could see St Patrick’s cathedral on one side, people sitting on the steps eating their packed lunches like little ants, and the P, ockefeller Center on the other, the ice-rink glittering in the pale autumn sun like a huge diamond, surrounded by flags. On the two walls that were not made of glass hung huge canvases, modern art; P,.ose hated abstract art, but it certainly reeked of money. The floor of the office was buttery, soft beige carpeting with a tventy-thousand-dollar Turkish carpet thrown over it, and the desk was carved of mahogany, with a state of-the-art computer and a phone system that looked like it belonged on the Starship Enterprise. P,.ose recognised the chairs in front of the desk and behind it as being Eames, ergonomic, top-of-the-line.

Sitting in the best chair behind the mahogany desk was Richard White. P,.ose made an instant assessment. He was young for an office

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like this; maybe thirty-eight. He had a soft face and manicured hands, a little effeminate, a little cruel. The hazel eyes were set above a smallish nose, a weak jaw and fleshy red lips, a bit rubbeW. His

wellcut suit hid a body that was not fat, just weak, Rose decided.

She fought back a shudder of revulsion. Gross.

‘Come here,’ White said. He crooked a polished fingernail, beckoning her over, like a pasha with a slave.

Oh well, he wasn’t gay, then, Rose thought. Pity. She fixed a

brisk, impersonal smile on her face and walked obediently up to his

desk.

‘Good morning, Mr White.’

‘Good morning, sir,’ he corrected her.

Rose swallowed hard, clenching a fist. ‘Good morning, sir.’ ‘You’re very lucky to get this assignment, 1Rosa,’ White said. ‘It’s Rose, sir.’

‘It’s whatever I say it is - Rosa. Why didn’t they assign you to

Human Resources?’

‘I’m interested in real estate.’

White rolled his eyes. ‘This is aveW serious business. My area of expertise is sales. What do you think sales involves?’

‘Selling,’ Rose snapped, before she could stop herself.

White’s piggish eyes were “undressing her. They travelled with

approval over her figure before resting squarely on her tits.

‘Ah …hah … I see why Jake decided to put you with me,’ he sniggered. ‘What a clown that boy is! Great sense of humour. Sometimes women can be useful in sales … conferences, meeting clients …’

The phone on his desk buzzed. White pressed the button.

‘Is this important?’ he hissed.

SuddeMy Rose felt a bit sorry for Maw-Beth. This guy must be a nightmare to work for. She knew a bully when she saw one. And

yet, MaryBeth was still guarding her turf. Why did women do this?

She froze.

White was resting one small palm casually on her butt.

Rose twitched away immediately.

White cupped the receiver. ‘It’s important to play nice,’ he said smoothly. ‘You want to get ahead, don’t you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Maw-Beth said nervously. ‘Mr Jacob Rothstein is here

to see you.’

‘Oh well.’ White’s tone instantly changed from bully to syco

phant. ‘Show him in at once.’

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The door swung open andJake walked in. White straightened and smiled widely, ignoring Rose, rushing over to him and pumping his hand.

‘Good to see you, Jacob, excellent to see you. How are you? Get my memo on the Walker Building leasing? Sixty-five per cent already.’

He was like a dog fawning over its master, Rose thought, but without any of the real affection.

It was freakish. This was Jake, whom she had competed against at college as an equal, Jake, to whom she was so rude, whom she was always challenging. Even though she could destroy this place, it had hurt her to have to pretend to ask him for a favour …

And now look. He was treated as a god, or as a prince at the very least. She half expected to watch this miserable little shit in the superfancy office bow from the waist when Jake walked in.

White preened and scraped, and Jake glanced up over his head at

Rose and winked at her.

No, lkose told herself.

A wash of heat licked mercilessly at her lower belly.

Stop that. It’s not sexy to watch everyone fawn over him. Y,0u shouldn’t respond to power like that. This man is your enemy. [

‘You shouldn’t take the trouble to come down here, Jacob. I’!l always come up to you, just say the word,’ White was gushing.”

Jake extricated his hand.

‘I see you have an intern with you, Richard.’

‘What? Oh, yes.’ White’s plump face snapped round to Rose, annoyed. ‘Get out. Can’t you see Mr Rothstein is here? We’re going to talk business.’

Rose blushed furiously.

‘That’s OK. I actually came to see how she was settling in. Rose Fiorello is my special pick for the intern programme. I selected her myself.’

‘Fine, thank you,’ Rose said.

White stared at her.

She was forced to add, ‘sir’.

‘Ahhh,’ White said, in the tone of a man who sees how it is. Rothstein wanted the chick for himself. He had tO back oft. ‘Rose will be fine, we’re happy to have her in the department, Jacob.’

‘Good. Show her the ropes, would you, Richard? I want her to get a decent grounding in what we do here. Leasing, sales, all that sort of stuff.’ Jacob looked over at Rose. Ah, she was so delicious, in

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that cute business suit. And she obviously loathed calling him sir. He didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed his authority more.

‘Urn, of course, Jacob. A thorough basis.’ White was aggravated. ‘Of course, you’re OK with her doing the normal intern stuff? Filing, that sort of thing?’

‘Absolutely. She’s here on the same basis as the other candidates,’ Jake said gravely.

‘Fine.’ White turned to Rose. ‘Go make us a couple of coffees. Black, no sugar. MaryBeth will show you the kitchen.’

Breathe deeply, Rose told herself.

‘There you go, sir,’ she said sweetly, passing Richard White his coffee.

He was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk, chatting with Jake. ‘And there you go, sir.’

‘Thanks, Rose.’ Jake took the coffee, enjoying her bent over him, those splendid breasts near his face, the spectacular wolf-eyes downcast, probably, he thought, so he couldn’t see the desire to rip his throat out which was, doubtless, there. Of course, he was only teasing her a little bit. He’d made it clear to White while she was in the kitchen that she was not to be touched. Jake was actually looking forward to seeing what Rose could do.

He wanted to try something radical with this company. He was going to need radical thinkers, to sweep out the dead wood. He thought maybe she could be a part of that.

Jake knew she had great instincts. A little training might be all it took. But he didn’t see why he shouldn’t tease her a little first.

He wanted Rose Fiorello to ache for him. When she finally came

to his bed, she was going to beg him for it. ‘Great coffee,’ he said, sipping it. Rose’s skin was scarlet.

‘Rose, Maw-Beth, my assistant, will show you around,’ White said. ‘You’ll be required to assist with some filing and photocopying.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Rose said, meekly.

She withdrew from the room, gently closing the door behind her.

‘… So I got a four-year commitment from Ellison Broadcasting. Inked yesterday ‘

‘Yeah, I heard.’ I know everything that goes on in this company, Jake thought. ‘And that’s great. Good work, Richard. But I don’t want you riding Rose too hard, OK? Don’t waste her time with

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menial work. The odd bit of filing, whatever, but I want her taught. Any problems, call me and I’ll handle it.’

‘No menial work?’ White blinked. He blustered, ‘You want me to really let her in on our deals? What is she, something special?’

‘Actually, yes.’ Jake’s eyes narrowed. ‘She’s a friend of mine. Now you can handle that, can’t you, Richard? Or maybe you’d rather not do me this favour, and I’ll have her work for me direct?’

‘No! No, of course not. That’s not it,’ White gabbled. ‘Delighted

to help, Jacob, of course, always ready to be of service …’ ‘Good man,’ Jake said. ‘Later.’

He walked out. The secretary was standing with Rose, lecturing her on the filing cabinet. The two girls straightened up as he passed

them, the secretary falling into a reverential silence. ‘See you later, Rose,’ Jake said casually. ‘Sure, Mr P,.othstein,’ Rose muttered.

MaryBeth poked her in the ribs. ‘Sir,’ she hissed.

‘That’s OK,’ Jake said magnanimously. ‘She can call me Mr Rothstein.’

He walked off down the corridors, chuckling quietly to himself. He didn’t see Rose’s pale eyes boring furiously into his back:

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It was freezing.

New York was big on everything, and it was especially big on cold. Winter had Manhattan in its grip. There was a fresh sprinkling of snow atop the large grey piles of slush, and black ice and frost glittered over the roads; municipal salting trucks could barely make a dent in it. Chill winds howled down the hard glass canyons of Tribeca, and a late dawn was breaking, weak and miserable, in the east.

Rose Fiorello didn’t give a damn.

She tugged on her clothes with a sense of rising excitement. Today she selected another smart, modest outfit; a neatly cut suit that tapered to the knee in charcoal grey with a cream silk shirt, a string of cultured pale grey pearls, and a spritz of Chanel perfume. Classic, classic, classic. She teamed it with Wolford hose and a neat pair of mock-croc pumps. Of course, it was far too cold to go out like this, but Rose had a warm woollen coat that swirled down to the ground, silk-lined and very comfortable, and a thick cashmere scarf and gloves. Most New Yorkers didn’t move out of their front doors without a balaclava and ear muffs, but she didn’t see why she had to sacrifice style completely, just to be warm: she selected a 920s flapper-style cloche hat in a matching charcoal flit, and tugged it on. A Hermes handbag was a tiny extravagance; just a little too rich for