“I was in such a hurry in the beginning,” he said, scrupulously ignoring analyzing the fact that he was getting personal with her. “I took completely insane risks. Risks I would never take today.”
“You were younger,” she said with a little smile, as if she too had taken risks before, risks she remembered with a certain pleasure. He wondered what they were, and then felt a surge of excitement at the thought of a risk-taking, impulsive Natalia.
“We worked so unbelievably hard in the beginning,” he continued. “Sometimes it felt like I didn’t sleep for several years.”
“You and Michel? Did you know that he and Åsa, uh, knew each other?”
David shook his head. “I had no idea. They didn’t seem to be finished with whatever they had started in the past.”
“No,” she pondered. “Is Michel married?”
“No. Åsa?”
Natalia shook her head, and their eyes met in mutual understanding. The sun streamed in; her eyes were almost pure gold, and he felt transfixed by them. She picked up her coffee cup and said over it, her cheeks tinged with pink, as if she were embarrassed, “Tell me, completely confidentially of course, what deal you and Michel are working on at the moment.”
David smiled. The question was funny in spite of everything—and dangerous—on so many levels. “We’re looking at several different things,” he responded casually.
“Ouch. What a brush-off.”
He laughed, couldn’t help himself. She laughed too, and something happened between them; it was so palpable that he could almost see it in the air.
His thoughts touched—more than touched—on the possibility that they could see each other again. It was summer, they were adults, and it was totally harmless, after all. He didn’t want this to end, not yet.
In some way, time passed with tremendous speed when he was with her. Those clever responses, her quick wits, and that deep laugh—all of it made him lose his sense of time. When he glanced at his watch he couldn’t believe it was right. “I’m sorry,” he said, catching the server’s attention. It had happened again. He had lost track of time. “I have to catch a plane. But the hotel’s car will take you wherever you want to go.”
“Don’t be silly, I can walk.”
She didn’t ask where he was going, but he told her anyway. “I’m flying to Malmö. But I’d love to see you again,” he added. “The logical progression, I think, is lunch, breakfast, and then dinner.”
She looked at him. “Yes,” she said casually. “That sounds totally logical.”
He paid and stood up. She rose as well, her purse over her shoulder. They walked through the hotel together and stepped outside. She looked at him, the sun making her squint, and he leaned in, and his mouth grazed her cheek in an almost kiss.
“Bye,” he said softly, cautiously inhaling the scent of her skin in what should have been an impersonal European-style peck on the cheek, but which turned into something else, something much more dangerous.
She stood motionless.
He turned to do the other cheek as well. And when he lingered, it felt like she was holding her breath.
“Good luck in Malmö,” she mumbled.
11
Monday, June 30
Natalia was the first one at work on Monday morning, but J-O arrived just after her.
“I have the new numbers here,” she said by way of a greeting.
He took the stack of paper with a nod. Natalia waited while he scanned through the numbers.
“When do you think the deal will go through?” he asked, watching her steadily. J-O was tall and skinny. He could sail, play tennis, and ski like a pro. He’d gone to all the best schools. His parents were Swedish diplomats, and he had the manners of a classic international gentleman. But he was also one of the chilliest and most impersonal men Natalia knew. He had three secretaries who kept track of everything, from which airport he would be at next to which bar he’d spent the wee hours in.
“The Danish CEO is coming to Sweden,” she replied, just as impersonally. “I think we should try to meet with him. He needs to talk.” A lot of Natalia’s work was being a calming influence behind the scenes, holding the hands of nervous CEOs, listening, and being supportive. Giving advice and sealing the deals. She wasn’t worried, not about that part of it.
“Yes, and he’ll be coming to our party in Båstad. We’ll take care of him there.” J-O inspected her over his wire frames. Sometime during the last year he’d gone gray. And he had wrinkles at the corners of his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. “I need you there,” he said. “He likes you.”
“Of course. I’ll ask my assistant to arrange tickets,” she said, realizing there was no chance in hell she would manage to avoid her family if she went to Båstad.
Båstad was where rich, famous, and glamorous Swedes went to play in the summer. Båstad was the reason the capital city was currently devoid of luxury cars, moneymen, and ladies who lunch. Natalia’s parents were there, sunbathing and attending the endless string of cocktail parties and champagne minglers.
And, of course, Jonas would be there too.
Damn it all.
Natalia hesitated. There was something worrying her. “You don’t think this merger is happening too fast?” she asked slowly. A deal of this magnitude often took a year to implement, but now after just a few months, people at Investum were talking about signing the contract this fall. Natalia knew how eager her father was to complete the purchase, but she felt it was being rushed. The prestige of creating a major pan-Nordic bank was clouding their view.
“Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know. It’s really just a feeling.”
“I’ll look over the whole deal when I have a chance, but it’s normal to start to feel jittery at this stage. That’s why there are two of us. Leave it to me.”
She nodded and went to leave a note for her assistant to book the trip to Båstad.
Two hours later the office was full of people. Phones were ringing, monitors glowed, and the concentration was almost palpable.
After lunch she received a text from J-O: I’m in Finland. I’ll be in again tomorrow.
The next time her phone chimed it was three, and Natalia, who hadn’t eaten since breakfast, was faint with hunger.
Want to meet up tonight? About to leave Malmö. Sorry for the short notice. Willing to compensate with a picnic and pick up at your door. Pls?—DH
She blinked. She was so lost in her work that it took a moment for it to click that this was a private text. Then she started smiling to herself. She replied: Picnic seals the deal. Yes, please. P.S. What does pls mean?
Natalia smiled the whole time she waited. She hadn’t had a chance to think about David for more than a few seconds here and there today. But now . . .
She put her feet up on her desk, leaned back in her chair, and kept smiling. It had been such a long time since she’d flirted with anyone. And he’d almost kissed her yesterday. She felt a tingle run through her body at the memory of that quick, warm peck of his lips on her cheek. She glanced to the side, hoping no one would notice that Natalia De la Grip was sitting in her desk chair, getting excited about a peck on the cheek.
Pls = please
The picnic basket and I will pick you up at 7 p. m.—DH (David Hammar)
Natalia took her feet off her desk. She didn’t have time to go home in between, but she had a few changes of clothes here at the office, and she had time for a quick shower. It was sunny, and she realized she longed to be outside in the sunshine and fresh air, to be like a normal person, the kind who met men, ate food, and didn’t work eighteen hours a day without even living. She typed out a confirmation to David and threw herself back into her work again.
12
“It’s just a boat trip, nothing to get all worked up about,” David said.
“It’s not the boat I’m worried about,” Michel snapped. “What I’m worried about is whether or not you’ve gone completely insane. You know you’re w
elcome to borrow my boat and go wherever the hell you want with whomever the hell you want. But with her?” Michel pinched the bridge of his nose. The leather of his desk chair squeaked as he moved his massive body in it.
David walked over to the door and closed it all the way. Hammar Capital’s employees were in the next room working, from early in the morning to late at night, busy analyzing companies. They didn’t need to hear this conversation.
“You’re the one who’s always saying people shouldn’t mix business and pleasure,” Michel continued, sounding angry. “So maybe you’d like to explain what you’re up to here. Because I really don’t understand why you’re suddenly spending so much time with Natalia De la Grip. I thought we’d written her off.” Michel looked more concerned than usual. But then he was such a tremendously thorough person, meticulously checking and double-checking everything. There was no one in the entire world David would rather have on his side when it came to work. But that didn’t mean he told Michel everything. Not that there was anything to tell, he reminded himself, but still.
“It’s nothing serious,” he said. Because even the thought that this would be anything more than an extremely short-lived flirtation was downright laughable. Natalia was fun to talk to, time flew by when he was with her, and that impulsive caress on the cheek—for crying out loud, it wasn’t even a kiss, just a peck, but it had gotten his body’s attention, and he wanted a little more. But it wasn’t serious. He knew that better than anyone. “I’m just cultivating a valuable contact.”
“Yeah, right,” scoffed Michel.
David shook his head. Swapping text messages with Natalia had put him in a good mood; he was practically filled with anticipation, and he had no interest in arguing with Michel. If their roles were reversed, he probably would have reacted too.
Aside from the fact that there was nothing to react to, of course. He needed to eat, she needed to eat, and fresh air was healthy. Besides, it was no fun going out in the boat by yourself. He could think of at least five, maybe ten different reasons that this spontaneous outing was nothing to overreact to. And one very big reason that Michel’s reaction made sense.
“I know what I’m doing,” he said placatingly.
“Soon,” Michel said, not looking in the least placated. “Soon this takeover is going to be on the front page of every paper. Here, in Europe, and in the US. No one has ever done anything like this before. You’ve said so yourself, many times. If you have some agenda of your own with that woman, you’d better say so. You’re not the only one working on this deal. Don’t forget that.” Michel had a lot of his own personal money riding on this, just as David did, and he had every right in the world to be worried.
David shoved his hands into his pants pockets and walked over to the window. Michel’s office had a view of the Royal Palace and Skeppsbron Quay. He turned around. “I’m just going out for dinner after work on a weekday with an industry colleague,” he said. “I don’t have any hidden agenda. We’re two adults getting together to eat and maybe chat a bit. She’s a good contact, she knows everyone, I’ve worked with her boss. I’m networking.”
Michel scoffed again. “Yeah, right.”
David gave him a lingering look. Michel wasn’t himself. They hadn’t talked about what had happened at the bar on Saturday. They were men. They didn’t talk about things like that. Maybe that was a mistake. “What’s up with you, anyway? If you don’t want me to borrow the boat, just say so. Otherwise this is none of your business. She isn’t responsible for running Investum. She could be anyone.”
Michel flung up his hands as if to say he gave up. “Take the boat. I know you’d never do anything unprofessional,” he said. “I just need to get some sleep.”
David studied him closely. He actually did look tired. “Does this have anything to do with Åsa Bjelke?” he asked.
Michel clenched his jaw, but just said, “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I’ve never seen you like that. You were mad at her.”
“I was surprised to see her. It was nothing important.”
Right.
“Come on,” David said decidedly, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I’m going to go buy some picnic food. Come along and I’ll buy you a coffee.”
Much later, as David stood waiting for Natalia on Stureplan, outside her office, he thought that Michel might be right after all. Maybe he should leave Natalia alone. She seemed to be a genuinely nice person.
The Investum deal was going to explode in the media soon, and the circus would be in full swing. Journalists would be calling like crazy, their columns filled with speculation, and he and Michel could start on the next step.
It was unavoidable that once she discovered the full scope of what he planned, Natalia would hate him. He didn’t want that to happen, because he liked her. And if they continued seeing each other, the betrayal would feel personal to her. He would hurt her. That was an uncomfortable thought.
But that chaste peck on the cheek had started something he didn’t want to ignore. And she had felt something too. But he couldn’t let it go any further, he decided. Picnics, pecks on the cheek—this would have to be enough. Anything more would be sheer lunacy.
And he was many things—hard, inconsiderate, ruthless—but he wasn’t crazy.
13
Natalia stepped out onto the street, and the heat hit her. She’d been sitting in her air-conditioned office since morning and hadn’t realized how hot it was outside. She’d never been invited on a picnic for a date in her entire life, which was tragic of course, but more importantly, it also made her a little unsure what to wear.
Ultimately, she’d decided on a cap-sleeve silk blouse and thin, light-colored linen pants from the spare outfits she kept at work. Her office was in the Sturegallerian shopping center just off the public square, and as she stepped out, David was waiting for her. When she saw his T-shirt and jeans, she felt absurdly overdressed. He raised his hand, the one with the stainless-steel watch, and waved. Every time she thought of him, she was sure she must be romanticizing how handsome he was, how tall and broad-shouldered he seemed. And every time they actually saw each other she realized that she hadn’t exaggerated in the least. It was no surprise that the media went wild over him.
“Hello there,” he said with a smile.
“Hi,” she replied, gratefully noting that her voice sounded calm and fairly cool.
He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in toward her cheek with his lips. A quick peck on the cheek. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. Lord, even that little whiff was enough to arouse her. She pulled away and collected herself, gave him a friendly smile. “Where are we going?”
David surveyed her elegant slacks and nice blouse with bemusement. “I should have known you’d wear something thin and impractical,” he said and then looked at her neatly done hair. “And that hairdo is definitely not going to hold up.”
He put his hand on her upper arm. “Come on,” he said. She didn’t have a chance to reflect on how his hand burned her skin before he let go of her again.
They strolled down toward the water, passing through a steady stream of tourists, families with kids, and dog walkers.
“How was Malmö?” she asked.
“You know how they are down there,” he replied with a grin.
“I love southern Sweden.”
“Yeah, it’s nice,” David said. He smiled. “And here we are.”
Natalia looked around. They had stopped in front of an elegant little place with outdoor seating. Dressed-up waiters were carrying drinks and plates of hors d’oeuvres. Music poured out over the beachside promenade. It looked wonderful to sit out by the sparkling water, and she ignored her discomfort at their being seen together—right here on Strandvägen Boulevard among people who knew who she was. It was only sheer luck that no one had noticed them on the way over here.
“Not there,” said David, as if he’d read her mind. “Here.” He nodded his head out
at the water, and Natalia gasped.
A yacht, gleaming white, was moored at the quay. It was enormous, and with its sleek lines and its chrome railings it looked almost alive, like a shark or a javelin, brimming with energy, raring to go.
“I thought we might not want to be right in the thick of things,” David said, giving her a questioning look. “Or would you rather stay onshore?”
“No,” Natalia said, admiring the white beast of a boat. She felt a tingle of excitement.
He stepped on board, and Natalia took the hand he offered her. The boat bobbed impatiently under her feet.
“Do you want me to give you the tour first?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I want to get going.”
David untied and then began pushing buttons and moving levers. The motor started with a deep rumble. He turned the wheel and backed out.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“There’s a basket of food in the galley. What do you say we just head out to the archipelago and stop in a bay somewhere on the way?”
“That sounds divine.”
Soon they had left Stockholm and all the ferries and larger vessels on the busy waters of downtown’s Nybroviken behind. They proceeded across Saltsjö Bay and swooshed past the island of Lidingö. Even a ways out into the archipelago on the Baltic, there was a lot of boat traffic, the sun was shining at full force, and the jetties they passed were crowded with people.
After a bit, David steered the boat into a small, secluded bay, pulled down the throttle levers, anchored, and turned to Natalia. “Come on, let me show you what it looks like down below.”
They descended a narrow stairway into the cabin, and when Natalia stepped off the last step onto a wood floor, she couldn’t help but laugh.
This had to be, hands down, the most ostentatious luxury yacht she’d ever seen in her life. She’d once been invited to the Royal couple’s yacht and it didn’t come close to this. The whole interior was glossy, varnished wood and white textiles. There was a skylight, porthole windows in the walls overlooking the water, and small recessed spotlights in the ceiling that made the space bright and airy. There was a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, display cases and shelves full of gleaming Pillivuyt porcelain, and a microwave oven mounted over one cabinet. An enormous wicker basket sat on a table.
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