“I’m not defending them. I’m merely pointing out that we, the three of us, can be as ruthless as the next cutthroat in business.”
“But you’d no more sexually harass a woman than you would your wife’s fluffy dog.”
“Fluffy demon dog,” Oliver corrects, brushing his hand over his thigh as though it’s covered in dog hair. It’s not.
“Bo is more likely to sexually harass Oliver,” Fin adds merrily. “In fact, he has.”
“Don’t remind me.” Oliver’s tone turns icy.
“I know the industry is ... old school,” Fin continues, “but it’s hard to believe there’s still shit going on like that. At least you knew where to find her, right?”
I rub my jaw. “She doesn’t work there anymore.” A fact that is obviously good for her but was pretty shit for me when I went looking. “I haven’t been able to track her down.”
A look passes between the two.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Oliver says. “You tried to track her down because you wanted to ... offer her a job or return her envelope of money?”
“Because I want to see her again.” Desperately. “To tell her the truth. To explain that ...” I just can’t stop thinking about her. “Look, that night was the weirdest night of my life. But it was also the best. I couldn’t bring myself to walk away from her. I had to help. And I just thought the safest bet was to play up to her assumption.”
Fin reaches for his glass. “I’m kind of curious how she reached that assumption.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I thought I was making myself unobtainable. Undesirable, or something. And after the afternoon I’d had, there was no way I was interested in a casual fuck.”
“Said no single man ever.” Fin slices me a look I choose to ignore.
“But there was nothing casual about that night, and things just haven’t felt right since.”
“Is that why you stepped in for me?” Fin sits forward, steepling his fingers over the tabletop. “To keep yourself busy?” He glances Oliver’s way. “I’m pretty much obsolete as far as client relations go.”
“Hardly,” I answer uncomfortably. “It was just a few dinners here and there.”
I stepped in ostensibly to allow Fin more time with his new wife. So much of his job is spent entertaining and schmoozing our wealthy business partners that it takes up a lot of his personal time, which wasn’t an issue before Mila. But the man is newly wed and in love. So I said I’d help him out.
But I had an ulterior motive. While I introduced Chinese moneymen to the best Irish whiskey in London and arranged a private couture show in Milan for a bunch of Qatari investors’ wives, I was also networking. These past months I’ve spent time and effort building relationships, when before I was only interested in building sites and building wealth. And now I’m on first-name terms with the kinds of financial big hitters that have fingers in lots of international pies.Including the States.These rich feckers love me—they love my common touch and my earthy (or sweary)craic—so, of course, should I decide to drop a few hints their way about mismanagement of a certain hedge fund, I’m sure they’d be all ears.
As the saying goes, revenge is a dish best served cold. That’s not to say there isn’t something satisfying in making a man see the error of his ways with a more ... primitive response.
“Well, you took to the role like a duck to water,” Fin says, studying me.
“You’re not the only one who can be sociable.”
“But that’s not what it was about.” He sounds impressed, not that I’ll admit his suspicions. “You’re one motherfucker.”
“You’ve gotta take opportunities as they’re presented,” I answer, sticking with my poker face.
“So your plan is to what? Fuck Dreyland Capital for messing with your girl?”
“She’s not my girl.” At least, she isn’t yet.And she won’t ever be if I can’t find her.
“You want to punish them?” Oliver asks, perplexed. “For what? They’re just one of a hundred companies that operate in the same way.”
“You mean chauvinistically? Archaically? Fuck that. They should be put out of their misery.”
“Along with a good portion of the finance world?” Oliver asks.
I lift my ankle to my knee and straighten the pleat in my pants. “I didn’t say it made sense. I’m not sure I understand it myself. But it was almost as though she expected that kind of treatment. Not in a way that made her seem downtrodden, because that’s not her. She’s all kind of kick arse. Resilient. As hard as nails. On the outside, at least.” I look up to find my friends examining me. “It was like her self-sufficiency had been long ingrained.”
“In this industry I can believe it,” Fin murmurs.
