by D Latham
"I just want you to be happy Elle, and if helping you be successful at work does that for you, then I'm glad to be of service. It also means I still get to see you, even if it is only business." He looked so sad that my heart broke a little bit for him.
"I meant what I said Oscar, only business. I don't think you realise how much you hurt me. It's better I still have my head held high, and my integrity intact. I can't be with you knowing what I saw, and after hearing you trying to buy my silence. I'll always care about you, but I'm too ordinary to be with someone like you. I live in a different world, with different rules. I hope you understand that."
"Yes I do understand, my only hope is that you change your mind, and come back to me." I didn't reply. I actually didn't want to rule anything out, although I also didn't want to rush back to him. It was far better to let time provide the answer.
By the time we left the restaurant, we were at least friends again. Roger drove us home, and Oscar exited the lift at his own floor. I didn't want to put temptation in my way by inviting him up for coffee, nor did I want to lead him on. I also had to do some laundry, and pack my gym bag for the next morning. I was practically asleep on my feet.
I had no sooner put a wash on when my phone rang "you alone?" Ivan barked.
"Yes, did you expect something else?" I asked, annoyed. "Was there something you needed?"
"No. Still ok for one tomorrow?"
"Yes of course," I replied, "why wouldn't I be?"
"See you then," said Ivan, before ringing off abruptly. I stood staring at the phone, marvelling at the rudeness of the man.
It was almost midnight by the time I fell into bed, physically and mentally exhausted from the demands of the day.
At half five, my alarm went off, rousing me from a deliciously deep sleep. I practically had to drag myself out of bed, and neck two cups of tea to get me moving. By the time I'd finished my workout, I was feeling better, and I made my way to the nineteenth floor for my breakfast meeting with Paul Lassiter.
His office was smaller than either Ivan's or Oscar's, and fairly ordinary. His assistant had provided us with croissants and coffee while we ran through Lewis' proposals and costings. I noted down the points he wanted clarified, and he decided that as soon as he was happy with those, he would give us the go-ahead.
"So are you seeing Ivan Porenski then?" Paul asked.
"No, I'm his lawyer, well one of them."
"I was under the impression that you were his girlfriend, he warned me not to ask you out," he said, giving me his boyish smile.
"Did he now? Maybe it was his very Russian way of keeping me safe from a charmer," I grinned to let him know I was teasing.
"He uses that 'I'm a Russian' thing way too much to get away with it with me. So tell me Elle, do I have to compete with him for your attention?"
I laughed, "I'm so busy right now that I'm struggling to give anything or anyone other than work my attention."
"I'll be waiting in the wings if you get a spare evening, and require some entertaining company," he said, smiling warmly. I stood to leave, and shook his hand, feeling a tingle shoot right up my arm. Static?
As I made my way back to my office, I thought about Paul. I liked him, and found him charming and nice. He didn't have the extraordinary charisma of Ivan, or the urbane sophistication of Oscar, but he seemed friendly and warm. I made a mental note to google him, having made the mistake of not doing my research before.
The rest of the morning zipped past in a blur of meetings, papers, and phone calls. Laura came in to let me know it was time to leave for my lunch meeting with yet another client. I checked my makeup before trotting down to the Italian bistro on the ground floor to schmooze a rather rotund CEO, who made full use of my expense account before instructing me for a real estate purchase.
At five to one, I raced up to Ivan's office, and arrived just before the other party. As usual, I sat quietly and made notes, as Ivan negotiated for their company. One of the figures quoted by the other party sounded wrong, I glanced up at Ivan to see if he'd picked it up, but it appeared that he'd missed it. Lifting my pad slightly so the other party couldn't see, I wrote a note, and the equation he'd missed, then I nudged his foot. He glanced over at the pad I was holding, and carried on, not missing a beat.
When he corrected the figure the other party had quoted, there was a murmur around the room. "I know you were under the impression that 120 million represented 60% of your company, but I can assure you that from your share price, it computes to 67%. Would you like time to check the figures?"
They all shook their heads, resigned to the fact that the amended figures were correct. As soon as Ivan finished the negotiation, we went straight to his office to update the contract I'd written. "I have never, ever met anyone quicker at maths than me. I can't believe I missed that. A stupid mistake that could have cost me millions. Fuck." He paced around the office angrily as I typed quickly to amend the parts that needed changes. Even though he wasn't angry with me, it still felt like I was locked in a room with a rather cross and growling lion. He even lapsed into Russian at one point, banging his fist on the desk, and I presume, letting out a string of foreign swear words.
"Would you mind allowing me to concentrate please?" I asked sweetly. He stared at me for a moment before sitting down opposite and staring sulkily out of the window. Thankfully, I finished fairly quickly, and I pressed 'print' with a sigh of relief. Ten minutes later, the agreements were all signed, and the meeting ended. As Ivan appeared to be in a foul mood, I decided to abort the shopping trip. I didn't fancy an afternoon walking on eggshells, and thought it would be better if I disappeared and looked for a dress after work.
Maybe we'll go shopping another time, I can see you're angry," I said, grabbing my handbag, and standing up to leave.
"Don't leave, I'm not angry with you"
"You just spent the last half hour sulking and swearing. It won't be a fun afternoon if you sit there with a face on you."
"A face on you? What does that mean?" The corners of his mouth twitched.
"It's a south London phrase for looking pissed off," I clarified.
"I think that seeing you dressed in couture will cheer me up. Come, let's go spend some money. You just saved me around 20 million quid, you deserve a treat."
The personal shopper at Harrods was a delightful middle aged lady, with an eye for detail and a superb changing room manner. We were installed in a suite, a comfy sofa for Ivan, and a roomy changing area for me. Ivan described the event we were attending, and after sweeping her eyes over my figure, she left to fetch a selection of dresses. The first couple I tried on were lovely, but when I stepped out to show Ivan, he pulled a face. "She needs something extraordinary, something that shows off her beautiful figure," said Ivan. She brought out another two dresses, one a deep red, fitted, and with origami style ruching down the bodice. It was impossibly glamorous, and looked extremely expensive. The other dress was champagne coloured, with hand sewn crystals embedded all over it. I loved the strapless design, with it's built in corset to pull my waist tight, and prevent the dress from slipping down. Ivan also liked both dresses.
"Let me try the red one again, and I'll make a choice," I said.
"No need, have both. Now, she needs shoes and bags to match them." The shopper scurried off.
"I don't need both," I protested.
"You look lovely in them, like a work of art. I want you to have them."
"Thank you."
Matching high heels were brought for me to try, and a selection of clutch bags. I made my choices, and they were taken to be wrapped. I made the assumption that we were all done.
"We still have an hour and a half till your appointment in the spa," said Ivan, "new lingerie? Work outfits? What would you like?"
"I couldn't possibly allow you to buy me lingerie," I flirted.
"In case I demanded to see you wearing it?" He looked lecherous.
"Er, yes."
"Work outfits it is then.
" We walked through to desk to pay for our purchases. Ivan made me stand away so I didn't find out the prices. I heard him asking the sales lady for directions to the department for women's day wear. We were quickly whisked into another suite, and racks of suits, blouses and day dresses were brought in. I tried each outfit on, with Ivan giving a yes or no. By the time we were done I had five new suits, three dress/jacket combos, seven tops, five pairs of shoes, and a new Prada handbag.
"I feel thoroughly spoilt," I said, smiling at Ivan on our way up to the urban retreat.
"You deserve it. I like buying you things. You look cute in those suits."
"I'm supposed to look businesslike, not cute."
"Alright, you look business like and sophisticated in those cute little suits. Better?"
I giggled. "Yes, I suppose. What have you booked me into the spa for?"
"Nails, feet and waxing. I didn't know whether you wanted a Brazilian or a Hollywood though," said Ivan, looking sly, "so I said you'd choose when you got there. So for future reference, what should I have booked?" Nosy bastard. Think I'm falling for that one?
"Well I normally have a vajazzle, I'm sure they won't mind extending the appointment a little." His mouth dropped open in astonishment before he twigged that I was teasing.
"You're winding me up aren't you?"
"Yes I am, you nosy bugger."
"Touché Elle, touché"
The spa was an oasis of luxury at the top of Harrods. What made it even more luxurious was the 'express' service, that meant I had four therapists working on me at the same time, to give me the fastest, most perfect French mani/pedi I'd ever had. They even had four of those uv lamp thingies so there was no waiting time at all.
I was relieved to get my waxing done. Although I was fair, I hated hair on my legs, and had been sorely tempted to shave. My waxer was fast and skilled, barely hurting me at all, so after a relatively ok experience with my underarms, I went for a Brazilian. "Holy shit, that smarts," I yelped, as she ripped the wax off.
"We have to suffer to be beautiful for our men," she trilled cheerfully, "you can't stop now honey, you'd be lopsided." I looked down. One side was bald, the other, like an overgrown hedge.
"Go for it," I said, gritting my teeth. The next time I looked, she was trimming a little landing strip. It looked bizarre.
"No hot baths, swimming, tight clothes or sex for the next 24 hours please. You don't want infected follicles."
I dressed, and walked back to reception. Ivan had booked himself a massage while I was being tortured, and looked relaxed and happy. "My place or yours for dinner? We can take something in or get it delivered."
"I don't mind," I said, "wherever you like."
"Can we have dinner at mine tonight? I've not seen the girls all day."
"Sure." We went down to the food hall and Ivan picked out some Moroccan food, flatbreads, and some patisserie, and laden with goodies, we headed back to the docklands.
Ivan's apartment was enormous. It was the penthouse to a large block, slightly further down the river from mine, and had a large outside terrace, albeit one with very high, Perspex edging.
"Bulletproof, and dog proof," Ivan explained. Bella and Tania were overjoyed to see him, jumping all over him as soon as he sat down. He gave each of them a kiss, before switching the oven on to heat up our food, and pouring two glasses of wine.
"Where did your guards go?" I asked.
"Security room, and the floor below is where they live when they're off duty. It's still heavily protected here. Gotta keep my girls safe, eh girls?" They both wagged their tails, and gazed at him with devotion.
We ate outside on the terrace. It was a beautiful summer evening, one of those where the river shimmered, and the air hung heavy and still. After the madness of my week, it was like an oasis of calm. The dogs sat our feet, playing with rawhide bones, and Ivan put Adele on the music system.
He told me stories of growing up in Moscow, tales of such hardship and destitution that my heart clenched for him. He described the arduous journey to England, and the difficulties he had when he got here. It felt as though he was baring himself to me, showing me the man inside the pretty packaging, and asking me to understand him.
In turn, I told him about growing up on the estate, of not fitting in, and of my desperate desire to escape. I told him my fears of never being good enough, of being poor, and the lengths I went to, in order to cover up my lack of sophistication.
"Let me hold you, beautiful girl," he said, holding his arms out for me. I sank into his warm embrace, and breathed in his lovely scent. He felt solid and strong, as if he could keep me safe forever. He pulled me onto his lap, and just held me, one hand lightly caressing my spine, as we sat in a strange embrace.
"Please let me kiss you," he whispered, pulling back from me slightly so he could look at me. I gazed into his sapphire eyes for a moment, before closing mine, and leaning forward to gently graze his soft, full lips with mine.
Our kisses were light and soft at first, before growing firmer and deeper. His tongue pushed into my mouth to meet mine, shyly at first, growing bolder, until he was claiming full control of my mouth, kissing me hard, as his tongue stroked mine. His hands roamed over my shoulders, and down my spine, sending a delicious shiver right through my body which ended in my groin.
"Are you cold baby?" He asked. I shook my head, I was practically melted in a mush of hormones, and although making out felt rather adolescent, I was enjoying the slowness of it. I went back in for more kisses.
Eventually I pulled away, "I need to go home."
"Please stay, I really need to make love to you tonight."
"I can't, not tonight. Another night." I didn't want to spell out that it was time of the month.
"Why not?" He looked concerned. "Don't you want to?"
"Oh yes, I want to. By Saturday, all will be fine."
He twigged, " oh ok, I see. Saturday it is then. I'll pick you up at six, and I honestly can't wait." He kissed me again, a deep, needy kiss, before Roger took me, and all my bags home.
Chapter 3
I was in the office bright and early the following morning, due to having to forego my swim. I fired up my screen to check my emails, and make a start on my paperwork. An email from Ivan popped into my inbox. Smiling, I opened it.
From: Ivan Porenski
To: Elle Reynolds
2nd June 2013
Subject: Is it Saturday yet?
Elle,
I'm sure it's Saturday today. My secretary tells me it's only Thursday. Is she lying?
Am about to combust
Ivan xx
I replied quickly.
From: Elle Reynolds
To: Ivan Porenski
2nd June 2013
Subject: re Is it Saturday yet?
Ivan
It's only 8 hours since I last saw you. Premature anticipation a problem for you? ;)
Elle x
I pressed send, and carried on replying to Paul Lassiter about his umbrella company. My inbox pinged again.
From: Ivan Porenski
To: Elle Reynolds
2nd June 2013
Subject: re re Is it Saturday yet?
Elle
Anticipation, premature or otherwise, is always the best bit. ;)
Ivan xx
I replied quickly.
From: Elle Reynolds
To: Ivan Porenski
2nd June 2013
Subject: re re re Is it Saturday yet?
Ivan
I'm sincerely hoping the eventual conclusion will be far better than the anticipation. ;) now, I need to get on with my work. I have some extremely demanding clients to keep happy.
Elle xx
Twenty seconds later, my inbox pinged again
From: Ivan Porenski
To: Elle Reynolds
2nd June 2013
Subject: re re re re Is it Saturday yet?
Elle
Nobody demanding as much as me I hope?
> Ivan xx
I was too wrapped up in getting the information Paul required, sent to him, to reply to Ivan straightaway. I had quite literally just pressed 'send' when my phone rang. It was Ivan. "Hello beautiful, you didn't reply to my last email?"
"I was just about to. I was just doing a work one, I can truthfully say that you are definitely my most demanding client."
"But am I your favourite client?"
"You most certainly are."
"I don't want to wait till Saturday to see you."
"I have a full schedule till then. Plus, you know, it's not a good time."
"I know. Well have a good day, and call me if you have some spare time."
"Will do. Speak to you later."
I hugged myself with glee. Only two days to go. Kissing last night seemed to have broken my apprehension about getting physical with him. I'd even had a spin with my trusty B.O.B to ease some of the sexual tension last night so I'd been able get off to sleep. I was wearing one of my new outfits, and carrying my new
Prada bag. Life really did feel pretty good.
I spent most of the morning with Mr Carey, going through the governance issues we were tackling for Oscar. I expressed my concerns about the LIBOR reporting, and he suggested daily website posting of the rate they calculated, so that the process was seen to be transparent. I called Oscar, and suggested it.
"Easy enough to do. I do wonder why you’re worrying about it though. It's never even been mentioned in the press. I doubt anyone even knows what it is. If it makes you happier though, we'll start it today."
"There's a lot of anti-bank sentiment around, so I wouldn't be surprised if it came under scrutiny at some point. As long as you're seen to be transparent, it should head off problems further down the line." We went on to discuss the auditors, and the banking code changes that were coming into force. Oscar was impressed with Mr Carey's knowledge of audit protocols, and was happy to meet with him the following week to finalise the changeover to our company.