Tiger Shark

by LP Lovell

  I’ve barely been in my office five minutes when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in!” I shout.

  The door opens, and a tiny little red head in a skin tight black dress slips in, her shiny red heels sinking into the thick carpet as she walks up to my desk.

  “I’m Eva.” She says, sticking her hand out across my desk. I shake it.

  “Um, Georgia. Why…”

  She drops into the chair on the other side of my desk, crossing her legs and clasping her hands in her lap. “Oh, I know. I mean, it would be silly if I didn’t even know the name of my new boss.” She flashes me a perfect white smile.

  “New boss?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m your new assistant.” She says brightly.

  “Who I didn’t hire.” I add.

  “Oh.” She whispers, leaning forward as though to tell me some big secret. “Well, Julie downstairs got fired.” She says quietly before silently mouthing ‘underperformance’. “So, you need an assistant. I need a boss. Here I am.” She inspects her perfectly manicured fire engine red nails.

  I’m not entirely sure what to make of her. She looks like the kind of girl who got the job by blowing the boss, except I’m the boss, so…

  “Okay. I mean, I don’t really need an assistant…”

  She rolls her eyes and jumps to her feet with a little hop. “Of course, you do. Look at this place.” She scoops the stacked papers off the corner of my desk and skims over the top one, moving over to the filing cabinet. Wordlessly she opens it and starts filing things away.

  “Um, thanks.” I say, frowning.

  “You have an appointment in half an hour with Mr Redford and a Ms Wilkes, a new client.” She says, whilst still filing the papers.

  “I’m aware.”

  “I’ve organised to have lunch put on in the conference room for the meeting, and you should know that Ms Wilkes is an avid campaigner for children’s charities and spent six months in Africa helping children with Malaria. She’s like a hippy who had really really rich parents.” I frown at her back, and she eventually turns, focusing over her shoulder at me. “She’s not a corporate chick, but pick the right companies and she’ll invest.”

  Well shit. I take it back; this girl knows her shit. “Thank you, Eva.”

  “No problem.” She says, smiling wide before she walks to the door and pulls it open. “I’ll move my things today. We’re going to have so much fun.” She squeals.

  Okay, she might be good but any more of that girly squealing shit and we’re going to have issues.

  I brace my palm against my floor to ceiling office window, listening to my client have a meltdown on the other end of the phone.

  “David.” I sigh. “Stock goes up and yes, it goes down. It will go back up.”

  “I’m out by forty grand overnight.” He says, agitation in his voice. David Murdock is a relatively new investor. I took him on last year after I was recommended to him by another client of mine. He’s new. New money and new to the game.

  “That’s stock for you. Tomorrow you could be up by forty grand. I told you when you signed with me, if you want safe, go and buy houses. The greatest risks are taken for greater reward, and this is a marathon, not a sprint.” He sighs heavily into the phone. “Just give it a week.” I say.

  “Fine. I’ll give it a week. I guess I’ll either win or lose big time.”

  “I don’t lose Mr Murdock.” And with that, I hang up the phone and drag a hand through my hair.

  I turn away from the window and freeze when I spot a figure standing in the doorway. Landon. I bite back the sigh that wants to leave my lips.

  “Landon. Do you need something?” I ask a little abrasively. Today has been a giant bag of shit, and I really am not in the mood to deal with him.

  A slow smile pulls at his lips. “I see where you get your reputation.”

  I ignore his comment and raise my eyebrows as I stare at him, waiting for him to voice the purpose of his visit.

  “Walk with me.” He says, jerking his head towards the hallway and turning around.

  “I have work to do.” I say to his back, shuffling some papers on my desk.

  He goes very still before he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze crashing into mine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a small shiver work over my body. It’s that feeling you get in the calm before a storm. “Walk with me.” He repeats in that low, gravelly voice, barely above a growl. It makes me want to punch him and strip naked at the same time. Gah!

  I frown as I follow him out of my office. How does he do that? I catch Eva’s eye as we pass her desk right outside my office. She fans herself as I walk past and I roll my eyes. Landon strides through the hallways and people stare at him, watching him like he’s some kind of Pariah. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s god.

  He stops and presses the button for the lift, glancing at the shiny watch on his wrist quickly before the doors open in front of him. He steps in and spins on his heel to face me. I stand there, half wanting to turn and walk away, preferably while flicking him the bird over my shoulder since he’s summoned me like a fucking dog with absolutely no explanation. The other half of me is mesmerised by everything that is him. He raises an eyebrow questioningly as he steps forward, slamming his hand against the doorway to stop the doors closing.

  “I don’t have all day, Ms Roberts.”

  I sigh and step into the lift beside him. He takes his phone out of his pocket, his fingers moving quickly over the screen. He barely spares me a glance, and it allows me to study him, not because I want to appreciate him, but because I want to work out what it is about him above all other men that makes me want to stare at him, aside from the obvious.

  His lips are set in a hard line as he studies the screen, narrowing his eyes slightly. Even now, standing across the lift from him with absolutely no contact or interaction, I’m on edge, my stomach clenching uncontrollably. It feels like a weight has settled on my chest, physically hindering my ability to breathe properly. His tongue darts over his bottom lip quickly, and I wonder what his tongue would feel like on my skin. What the fuck? Jesus, he’s my boss!

  The lift pings and as the doors slide open I almost breathe a sigh of relief. He steps out with that unhurried, calm demeanour of his, sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket as he moves towards the front doors. He doesn’t look at me, and I wonder if he’s forgotten I’m here.

  He holds the door open for me, quickly dispelling the notion. I expect him to get into the black town car waiting at the curb, but instead, he starts walking down the street.

  “Uh, where are we going?” I ask, hurrying after him.

  “Lunch.” He doesn’t even look at me.

  I have to jog every few strides to keep up with him. “I have a meeting in half an hour.” I say. He ignores me, and I stop. Fuck him. I’m not running after him because he’s decided he doesn’t want to look like a loner while he gets his lunch.

  He takes a few steps before he whirls around with an exasperated sigh. “I moved your meeting to three o’ clock. Any other objections?”

  He moved my meeting! Okay, breathe, breathe. He’s the boss. He can move a meeting. He raises his eyebrows, waiting. “Fine. I’ll come as long as you stop running down the street. These shoes weren’t made for walking.” I snap.

  He glances at my shoes before lifting his eyes back to my face. “No. They were not.” It should be an innocent comment, but the way his eyes flash, the way his voice rumbles over the words has images of my Louboutins either side of his face flashing through my mind. Fucking shit. He’s. The. Boss.

  “Are we going to stand on the pavement all day?” I hiss irritably, storming past him. He smirks and turns, walking beside me.

  I don’t do well with this shit. I hate being out of control. I like to predict everything, to know what is coming, and I did not predict Landon Banks. I knew he was wealthy and good looking, but of course, I didn’t think it would even be a thing, but the man is like crack to ovaries. I hat
e him. He’s like a massive anomaly fucking with my perfectly balanced life.

  We walk for about a mile, and in that time, neither of us says a word to the other. He eventually stops at a small café, holding the door open and gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. I glance around the place with only a handful of tables and a list of specialities written in chalk on a board behind the counter. It’s certainly not the sort of place I was expecting when he said he wanted to do lunch. He takes a seat at a small table near the window, and I sit opposite him, hugging my handbag in my lap. A waitress bustles over, pulling a small notepad from her apron.

  “What can I get you?” She asks brightly. I half expect her to stare at Landon, but she doesn’t. London is a funny place, unlike anywhere else in the world. We’re obsessed by class and social divide, and I’ve noticed that for a girl working in a café, a man like Landon is so unattainable that he almost loses his appeal.

  “I’ll have a coffee please.” He says before looking at me, waiting for me to order.

  “Just water.” She walks away, and I can feel Landon’s eyes burning into the side of my face, just like they were last night. “So, this is…nice.”

  “I like the food here.” He says simply. I’m starting to wonder if he’s socially inept or just a man of few words.

  The waitress comes back with our drinks after a few minutes of awkward silence. She places them in front of us and then takes our order. I order a salad while Landon orders a burger. I find myself staring at his stomach where his suit clings to his muscular frame and wondering how the hell he gets away with eating a burger. The waitress scurries off, leaving me alone with Mr Fucking Cryptic. He says nothing for long moments until the silence just leans into awkward territory.

  “You brought me to lunch so you can stare at me?” I ask eventually.

  “I like to understand the people who work for me, Ms Roberts. I don’t understand you. That is why I brought you here.”

  I sigh. “The only thing you need to understand, Mr Banks is that I’m good at my job. Everything else is irrelevant.”

  He taps his index finger over his full bottom lip, and my eyes track the movement. “Yes, you are.” He muses. “But everything is relevant. I’m curious, why did you leave Elite Finance?”

  I stiffen slightly. “I just needed to move on.”

  He drops his hand from his mouth and rests it on the table, rapping his knuckles on it. “Don’t lie to me. It irritates me.”

  My temper fires up like the little red line on a thermometer that’s been thrust into boiling water. I hate being questioned. Nobody questions me. I do my job, and I keep my private life private. End of. My eyes meet his, refusing to back away. “I don’t care what does or does not irritate you.” I say through gritted teeth. “Unless it pertains to my job, I wasn’t aware that I need to disclose my life story.”

  His lips twitch and then he throws his head back and laughs before looking at me with a wide grin that looks so out of place on his normally serious face. “See, that right there.” He points at me. “So professional, so restrained, and yet I can see what you really want to say written all over your face.” I glare at him, and he continues to watch me as if I’m a freak of nature, a small smile on his lips. “I hear that you slept with Collins.”

  “You heard wrong.” I say, disgust lacing my voice. “You’ve officially just put me off the idea of lunch.”

  “That bad?” He cocks an eyebrow, that wry smile still on his face.

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, I did not stick it to Collins.” I shudder at the thought. “That is all you need to know.”

  He watches me for a few seconds before he shrugs and leans back in his chair. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” I repeat.

  “So, tell me, how did you become friends with Giles Samson?” He drags a hand through his dark hair and his chest muscles flex with the movement.

  I drag my eyes away from his body and focus on his face. “I’ve known him for years. He’s my client.”

  “I’m aware.” He tilts his head to the side. “I asked how he became your friend.”

  “He became my client after I met him at a social event.”

  He clasps his hands together on the table in front of him. “I’ve known Giles for a very long time.” His eyes meet mine again, and I swear every time he looks me in the eye my breath seems to falter. “He has an awful weakness for pretty women, always has had, and yet he respects you. He sees you as a friend.” Great, and now I feel guilty for denying that I like him, because I do, but this is business. Rule number four: You must always be above reproach. Don’t give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism. Giles is my sole exception, the only one for whom I even slightly blur the lines, but I don’t want Landon Banks to know that. Something tells me that with him the lines are going to need to be two-foot wide, preferably with a razor wire topped fence running along them.

  “I have a professional relationship with Giles. I embrace his friendly manner because that’s just how he is. You have to be a chameleon to succeed in this world, Mr Banks. I change according to my surroundings.”

  My gaze meets his, and my heart beats awkwardly in my chest. The longer I look at him, the more charged the air between us seems to become, like a battery powering up, a low hum fuelling it. My breath hitches as the power starts to fizz and crackle, sparking violently between us with such force that I have to focus very hard just so that I don’t start subconsciously leaning across the table towards him.

  “Careful Georgia. You need friends in this city. It can get lonely.” He says quietly.

  “It’s lonely at the top.” I manage to speak.

  Still, his eyes burn into me and something flashes in their depths. “It can be.”

  The trance is broken when the waitress arrives at the table, placing two plates in front of us. I drop my gaze to the table and feel the blush heating my cheeks. Dangerous. Landon Banks is dangerous. He’s not like the other egotistical twats I usually have to deal with. I mean, he’s egotistical, but he’s intelligent, he sees too much. My standard intimidation mixed with some fake, sugar sweet bullshit won’t work on him, and that’s not fucking good. At all. It leaves me wide open to him, and I can’t afford that kind of exposure, not with a predator like him circling me.

  Lunch with Landon yesterday was so awkward after our strange little interaction. He’s infuriating, arrogant, obnoxious…and yet there’s something about him, something that I’m drawn to, a connection.

  Walking back, I swear the weird tension between us hit ridiculous, as though one wrong move might set off a reaction of epic proportions. I’ve decided I’m going to avoid him at all cost. He’s only here for a few weeks, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

  The truth is, whether I like it or not, Landon has an effect on me. An immediate ‘I barely know him, so what the fuck’ effect. The overwhelming tension between us is dangerous in and of itself, a match that given any sort of attention may well just light itself before I’ve ever even realised it’s happened. The thing that scares me the most about him though is that he makes me feel as though I have no control of the situation, and there’s nothing I hate more than loss of control.

  I take the lift up to the top floor and push open the heavy door open, stepping into the enormous glass office. Focusing my gaze on Angus, I walk in a straight line to his desk. I know Landon is sitting at his desk, and I’m acutely aware of his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him.

  “Landon.” I say, still refusing to look at him. “Angus.”

  I drop the latest figures on Angus’ desk, and his gaze subtly shifts between Landon and me before he picks up the papers, glancing over them.

  “Let me know if you need anything.” I turn on my heel and walk back the way I came.

  “What, that’s it? No run down?” Angus asks, a hint of distress leaking into his voice. I pause and glance over my shoulder, catching a brief glimpse of Landon. His head is tilted forward studying something on the desk in front of him
, but I don’t miss the small quirk of his lips.

  I narrow my eyes and plaster a smile on my face. “You don’t need my run down, Angus. You’re a better broker than I could ever hope to be.” I charm for all I’m fucking worth.

  I walk out, closing the door behind me, and just before the latch clicks into place I hear a loud bang from inside, followed by Angus hissing. “Did you fuck her?!”

  “What? No! Of course not.” Landon says before I click the latch and walk away, shaking my head in the process. Okay, so I need to work on my avoidance strategy. I can do this; I’ve spent five years acting my arse off, playing the game like it’s a fine art. This is no different, it’s all just part of the game, and I will become the damn master if it kills me. The next time I see Angus or Landon for that matter, all they will see is cool, calm, professional, because that’s what I am.

  My two o’ clock meeting is with one of the clients that came with me from Elite. I really wish he hadn’t to be honest. I hate dealing with him.

  Charles Thomas is one of those guys that makes your skin crawl with just a look. He defines sleazy and gross. He must be well in his seventies and spends half his life in Spain. As a result, he looks like a shrivelled apricot.

  I step into the conference room and take the seat opposite him, tucking my skirt under my thighs as I sit. He smiles wide, revealing his perfectly white veneers made even whiter against his tanned leathery skin. He’s wearing a bloody Hawaiian shirt, as though making it clear to the world that he’s retired and living somewhere hot, unlike us poor fucks. Although if I had his money, I’m pretty sure the Caribbean would be on the cards, not Spain.

  “Miss Roberts.” He says, sounding every bit as creepy as he looks.

  “Mr Thomas.” I hide my disdain behind a bright and shiny smile.

  I open his investment portfolio and turn it around, pushing it in front of him. “You wanted to discuss some new investments…” I start when the door pushes open. I glare at the culprit who is interrupting my meeting, and my glare only intensifies when I see who it is. Landon steps into the room, instantly consuming every inch of it with that confidence of his.