All In (4 page)

“Natalia,” he interrupted. “You do know that I'm playing devil's advocate, right?”

She paused.

“I've helped hire people for over twenty boards in the last year and a half,” he continued calmly. “Fifty-one percent of them are women. And exactly half of the chairmen of the board on boards hired by Hammar Capital are women.” He leaned back and watched her breathing calm down. Her chest was moving beneath her blouse. He glanced at her cleavage, at her pearls and pale skin. He flashed her a little smile, maybe the first genuine one he'd given her. He didn't dislike her personally, just what she represented. “Recruiting people with the right expertise is a part of my company's success,” he said slowly. “Hammar Capital weathered both the dot-com bubble and the financial crisis, and I'm completely confident that that had to do with the makeup of my staff.”

She looked him in the eye, alertly, quietly, and he wondered what was going on beneath that cool exterior. He continued, “An integrated group comes up with different approaches, as I'm sure you know. They dare to say no and are willing to stick up for a divergent point of view. We rode out the crises, unlike many others, precisely because I have the most talented coworkers in the country—both women and men, recent immigrants and native-born Swedes.”

Natalia blinked. Long, dark lashes shielded her view for a moment. “Okay,” she said calmly. A faint blush across her high cheekbones was all that was left.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I let you get to me. That almost never happens.” She leaned in over the table. “Plus I feel like a hypocrite.”

“How so?” he asked, allowing himself to be drawn in by the twinkle that lingered in her eye. She was flirting with him, maybe without even being aware of it. She wasn't the flirty type, he'd bet his business on that. He permitted himself to play along for a bit. They would soon part ways—what did it matter?

“I'm sitting here talking about gender equality and hiring policies,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “But I know I've had huge advantages simply because of my name and my background. I know it and it embarrasses me.” She leaned even farther over the table and lowered her voice, as if she were divulging a big secret. “The fact is that I used my name just the other day. I hate it when people do that.”

“And you did it anyway?”

She nodded and looked so guilty that the corner of David's mouth twitched. “How did it go?” he asked.

She eyed him for a bit, her eyes twinkling. “Not very well,” she stated dryly.

“What did you do?” he asked, curious despite himself.

“There wasn't even any call for name dropping. I assume you know who Sarah Harvey is?”

David nodded when he heard the name of the woman considered to be one of the best sopranos in the world, with a uniquely clear voice and a tremendous range. He knew who she was and also which circles she traveled in. “What does she have to do with any of this?” he asked.

“She never does tours, but she's coming to Europe this month and is going to give one concert in all of Scandinavia, here in Stockholm. I've idolized her ever since I was a child and really wanted to go.”

“Are you saying that you couldn't get a ticket even though you're a De la Grip?”

“Thanks for taking the time to rub salt in my wounds. No, I couldn't, and it still stings. The arrangers weren't impressed by me in the least.”

“Did you try bribing them?”

She jutted out her chin. “Maybe.”

“Swedes aren't that easy to bribe, if that's any consolation,” David said, not entirely truthfully. Anyone could be bribed; it was merely a question of offering the right amount.

“I guess,” she said. “I'm a quarter Russian. The Russians, now they're easier to bribe.”

“A lot easier,” David agreed. He stretched out his legs and leaned back. This lunch had already given him the information he wanted. The smart thing to do now would be to release Natalia De la Grip and move on. She wasn't critical to closing the deal. They didn't need to see each other again. His goal was to destroy her family. He ought to focus on the next step. That would be the smart thing to do. He watched her long fingers as she absentmindedly stroked the side of her glass. She'd taken off her jacket and was wearing a simple, sleeveless blouse underneath. She had beautiful lines, tall and strong. The pictures he'd seen of her had been mostly forgettable, but now he remembered one photo from some evening event, a dinner or a ball at the Villa Pauli Club. Her hair had been up in the same tight bun, but she wore a long red evening gown, and she looked amazing. Strong, powerful. And he convinced himself that he didn't always need to be in such a hurry, that he could sit for another ten minutes with this woman, who really wasn't behaving the way he'd expected.

 

Natalia noticed David watching her. She wondered what he was thinking as those blue-gray eyes took her in. He hadn't meant for her to notice him checking her out, of course, but she was good at reading people and could tell he was trying to size her up. He was very smooth. When they spoke he gave her his full attention in a way that was completely unsettling. He looked good, attractive in a grown-up, manly way. There was nothing boyish here, just broad-shouldered, full-grown masculinity. Dark, well-cut hair, eyes that were somewhere between blue and gray, chiseled features. Handsome as the devil. He was also charming, polite, and sometimes funny, basically your perfect lunch date.

And yet . . .

Every now and then she caught a glimmer of something in his eyes, something she wasn't meant to see, something hard and cold, which put her on her guard and made her hesitant. David Hammar was a person known for crushing companies and people, a ruthless businessman. Under one picture of him in a business paper the caption had described him as “an ice-cold businessman devoid of pretension.” Something warned her not to be seduced by his easygoing charm and intelligent eyes. He was playing some kind of game, she was sure of that. But what?

Secrets, so many secrets.

“What?” he asked with a half laugh, and now there was no frostiness at all. No hardness, no ruthlessness, just attentiveness. As if she were the most interesting person in the world. This must be how he had achieved his almost implausible success. David Hammar
saw
people. He made them feel special, won their trust.
And then he devoured them, flesh, bone, and everything in between.

“Are you planning to take over any unsuspecting companies in the near future?” she asked.

“Of course I am,” he replied. “That's what I do. A venture capitalist never sleeps.” His eyes twinkled, and Natalia lost her train of thought. Oh my, that laugh.

Most of the men Natalia worked with, including her father, older brother, and boss, followed the unspoken rules and invisible guidelines that applied to the elite financial world. They were all cast from the same mold. Conforming and often completely devoid of humor, they were all too preoccupied with trying to outdo one another to socialize comfortably, especially with women. But David was completely different, a trailblazing visionary if you could believe his admirers, an unrelenting looter if you listened to his critics. Either way, he was terribly successful, a modern pirate in a custom suit.

And yet . . .

David Hammar hadn't tried to impress her even once. He hadn't bragged or dominated. When they shook hands, his grasp was firm but not unnecessarily hard, as if he was confident of his strength and didn't need to show it off. Talking to him, she realized he made most of the men she met seem hesitant, maniacally domineering, impatient to demonstrate their strength, and not always respectful toward women, to put it diplomatically.

“How did you end up getting into this line of work?” she asked curiously. He seemed like a man who could have been successful at just about anything.

“If you want to become very rich very fast, this is the way. As I'm sure you know.”

Natalia nodded. No one could become as rich as a skilled venture capitalist. “And that's what you wanted? To be rich?”

“Yes.”

“Has it gone well?” She knew the answer, of course, but she wanted to hear what he would say when given the opportunity to brag.

He studied her for a moment. “Satisfaction is elusive,” he said slowly, as if they were discussing something important, not just shooting the breeze. “Strange, isn't it?”

She shook her head. “No, it's the most basic human motivator. For good or ill.”

“Is that how you feel too?”

“I guess,” she replied, because she recognized the desire in herself, to get ahead, to succeed.

“What?” He leaned forward and studied her attentively. He read her so fast it was frightening.

“Nothing. This has been a very pleasant lunch. I thought you would be more . . .” Her voice faded away.

“Gangster-like? Unscrupulous?”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

“The thing is, I like to see results,” David said. “A lot of Swedish companies are unbelievably poorly run. Their CEOs and boards are lining their own pockets at their shareholders' expense.” He crossed his long legs and ran a hand through his short brown hair. She noted the stainless-steel watch. Patek Philippe, expensive but not garish.

“You have no idea how much shit we see,” he continued. “But when Hammar Capital goes into a board, we aim to make it more efficient and improve the company. And then the shareholders make money, not someone else.”

“Surely you make a little as well,” Natalia pointed out dryly. Hammar Capital was valued at close to an unbelievable four billion euros. Not bad, considering he'd built it himself from the ground up. And he was young, not even thirty-five if you could believe the Internet.

“That too, of course,” he laughed. “Our business is to be controversial. Would you like some coffee?”

She nodded, and he ordered two. The waitress quickly returned with two cups.

Natalia fingered the chocolate on her saucer. She meant what she'd said earlier—she admired people who created something of their own. There were so many people who were born with everything and then messed it up.

David nodded at her chocolate. “You're not going to eat that?”

She handed it to him, watched him open the thin foil wrapper. “You travel abroad a lot. How does that work?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “I'm not the only one who did my research, huh? That's true. I travel the world hunting down financiers. My partner Michel and I both do.”

Michel Chamoun. Lebanese, with degrees in finance and law. Yes, she'd done her research; she was always thorough. “But aren't you needed here at home?” she asked.

“I have very talented coworkers.”

“Women and immigrants?”

“Among others.”

Despite the casual small talk, despite the charm that was sometimes difficult to defend against, Natalia couldn't help but think that there was something that didn't add up. What did this super-attractive man with the hard eyes want with her? What was David Hammar actually after in inviting her to a “no-strings-attached” lunch? And what did that phrase even mean? Here he was asking her seemingly random follow-up questions and flattering her with his attention. Natalia glanced at her watch and thought it must be wrong. She furrowed her brow and saw David tilt his own wrist and check his watch.

He straightened. “How can it be that late?”

“I know. I have to get back to the office,” she said.

“I had no idea so much time had passed. I'm sorry I've kept you,” he said, gesturing for the check.

“Don't apologize,” she said. “But I have a Skype meeting with London that I have to prep for.”

He handed the server his credit card.

“Should I have them call you a cab?”

“No, I'm walking,” she said, standing and picking up her handbag.

“I'll join you.” He stood as well, and pulled her chair back for her.

“Oh, maybe we'd better not,” she said apologetically. He was crazy attractive, there was no doubt about that. But she'd done her research. Hammar Capital had gone up against Investum a couple of times in the last few years, and HC had lost both times. She'd mentioned Investum twice today, and both times something had glimmered in his eyes. It was scarcely noticeable, and she would have missed it if she hadn't been studying him so carefully. But she'd seen a coldness that no amount of charm in the world could smooth over, and in many ways she
was
Investum. David Hammar had a bone to pick with her family's company. People said that nothing in the financial world was personal, that money controlled everything. But that was nonsense. A lot of other things always followed in the wake of the money: feelings and impulses, wounded egos and the desire for revenge. So the question was: did David Hammar have some hidden agenda in asking her out?

Natalia studied him closely, her eyes skimming over his unbelievably attractive features, his intense eyes and well-built body.

Probably.

“Thanks,” she heard herself say. “Thanks for a lovely lunch.”

She shook his hand, let his big, warm palm surround her own, and then walked outside into the broiling heat, not one iota wiser than before she'd come.

4

T
he lunch with David Hammar had raised more questions in Natalia than it had answered. But at least it had woken her up, she decided as she quickly walked back to her office at Stureplan. She took the elevator up to the fourth floor, nodded to the receptionists, and then shut herself in her office. She decided she needed five minutes for herself before she started working.

During those five minutes she thought about David and the lunch and how she felt confused, fascinated, and, well, attracted to that charismatic but also contradictory venture capitalist.

Natalia leaned back in her desk chair. She actually couldn't figure him out. At times he had been chivalrous and even funny. He had teased her, and she had been drawn into something that felt like a force field of masculine charm.

But apart from that, she had found him to be a person with a very hard core. She knew he'd grown up in some of the toughest areas around Stockholm. It was no secret that he came from a really rough past. But something had happened since then because first he went to boarding school, then the Stockholm School of Economics, and finally Harvard. Probably on a scholarship, but still, talk about pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.

Yes, he was full of contradictions, Natalia thought, and with that her five minutes were over. No matter what she thought about his charisma and appearance, she was sure the lunch was a onetime occurrence. For some reason he had written her off—she had sensed that very clearly. She'd do best to get back to her real life: her work. Because no matter how, uh,
interesting
lunch with David Hammar had been, it had robbed her of valuable work time.

Natalia devoted several intense afternoon hours to a never-ending stream of paperwork. She and J-O were in the final stage of a really big and, for Natalia personally, prestigious bank deal, and she was pushing herself and her team hard. No one slept more than absolutely necessary. It was all hands on deck. In another few hours when the banks and the stock market opened in the US, this already long workday would keep going, its pace not slowing at all.

Natalia glanced at the time. They were still asleep in Hong Kong, and Los Angeles was three hours behind New York. Somewhere in the world there was always a bank opening or a stock market closing. Trade and business continued around the clock, and her boss drove his employees harder than anyone she'd known.

She wondered if David Hammar worked like this. He was also known for being a hard worker. No one could stay at the absolute top, where he'd been for years, without being indefatigable. Without being unrelenting. That was both the appeal and the downside of finance.

She glanced up when someone knocked on her door frame.

“Do you have a minute?” J-O asked.

“Be right there,” Natalia said, glad to be forced to focus on something other than the impression David Hammar had made. Åsa was right. She needed to get out more. Oh, but dating was such an enigma, she thought as she gathered her folders, papers, and iPad. She didn't get it at all. Other women did, Åsa did. They went out with men, slept with men, dated men. But Natalia had never really gotten the hang of what you were supposed to do. There was something about the subtle, modern, essentially un-Swedish rules that she couldn't fathom despite the time she had spent living in New York and London. She was pretty much useless at this stuff with men, as history had shown. On the other hand, she was exceptionally good at her job, she reminded herself as she followed J-O. At least there was that.

 

Natalia maintained her focus throughout the meeting. There was no room for anyone on J-O's team operating at less than one hundred percent. They were the best of the best. One miss and you were looking for another job. Natalia had been handpicked two years ago by J-O himself when he started the bank's Nordic team. The rest of them, all men, were unique specialists in their fields, just like her. Natalia was an expert on banking and financial institutions. J-O liked to say that he could call Natalia De la Grip in the middle of the night and she would sit up and rattle off the big, listed banks' index rates and their share prices from when the markets closed.

And he wasn't joking.

He'd done it several times.

J-O wrapped up the meeting and thanked those who had participated by phone. Natalia and the rest of them gathered up their things.

“It's almost four o'clock,” J-O said to her. “Do you have time for a quick chat before New York opens?”

Natalia nodded, waiting quietly as the conference room emptied.

“Nice work,” he said when they were alone.

She smiled at the rare praise. “Thanks.”

He drummed one finger on the table. “What are you doing this summer?” he asked.

Natalia tried not to raise her eyebrows, but it was hard. Throughout the finance world, J-O was known for three things: his extremely expensive tastes, his weakness for giving long interviews in glossy magazines, and for never discussing personal matters.

As far as Natalia knew, he had no private life. Not like other mortals. He worked, traveled, and flew so much that people said he spent more time in the air than on the ground.

During the just over two years they'd worked together, first in London and then in Stockholm, they had never discussed anything other than work. What little she knew about J-O she had read in the tabloids or industry papers and since her own family was one of the most widely discussed in Sweden, she assumed that he knew pretty much what everyone else knew about her. At least once a year, whenever her younger brother, Alexander, was caught up in some new scandal, often involving a woman, the tabloids carefully reviewed the details of her family, so it wasn't that hard for people to keep up to date on her. But J-O never said a word about it. J-O hadn't even said anything when her breakup with Jonas hit the papers. He just dispassionately noted her bloodshot eyes and then got down to business as usual. In the middle of all that misery, that had actually been a relief.

“I'm going to keep working until we're done,” she said in answer to his question. “Aside from that, I don't have any fixed plans. Aside from maybe BÃ¥stad.” She managed not to sigh.

Everyone was going to Båstad. Of course her parents had invited her down to the summerhouse—her mother had practically ordered her to come—but Natalia didn't know if she could bear to spend the summer with them. Last year, when her separation from Jonas was still fresh, it had worked, but yet another summer? When she was almost thirty? There were limits to how pathetic a person could be.

Unbidden, her thoughts flitted back to David Hammar again. Was he going to BÃ¥stad? If she joined her parents at the villa, would she run into him there?

That bothered her. She had met the man once and she was fantasizing about him already? What was she, twelve or something? At least she hadn't googled him after lunch. Although she was still wondering what he was after. What did she have that he could be interested in? Her father hated him, she knew that. Until today she had never had any particular opinion of David Hammar. They moved in completely different circles. He was a handsome corporate pirate, mingling with American movie stars and British princesses, wreaking havoc on traditional companies. For her part, she was pretty much a bank woman.

“Hello?” J-O said.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “If you need me, I'll be here, of course. I haven't decided on anything. I'll take some vacation when I can.”

“I may need you in BÃ¥stad.”

Natalia nodded neutrally. Of course he would.

J-O stood up from the highly polished conference table. Their office was in a historically listed building, built in the 1800s with period details, high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and art in gilt frames. He glanced out the window at Stureplan and the roofs surrounding them. “I know you have your own plans for the future,” he said slowly.

Natalia's ears perked up. This was about something else, about her. Her most recent annual review had been about her long-term career goal being to eventually work for the family company. She'd always been open about that, that she wanted to build a career on her own merits, but that then she wanted to move on.

“Yes?” she said guardedly.

She admired J-O, but they weren't actually friends. Everyone had their own agenda in this world, and trust was a perishable commodity.

“I heard you met with David Hammar today,” he said. “Is there anything you haven't told me?”

“It was just lunch, nothing else,” she replied, completely caught off guard.

J-O had a reputation of knowing everything that happened in the gossipy finance world. But still. How the heck did he know this? So quickly? “I hope you're not spying on me,” she said, only half kidding.

J-O shook his head. He crossed his arms in front of himself. “This is Stockholm. You can't do anything without everyone knowing about it. What did he want?”

“I don't know,” she said honestly. “You know him better than I do.”

“He's up to something.”

Natalia nodded. “Presumably.”

“Keep me posted. And plan on BÃ¥stad.”

Natalia stood up, still a little taken aback. As she left the room, J-O turned back to the window again. His eyes locked onto some point outside.

 

They spent the rest of the evening focused on work. Someone fell asleep on the sofa. Someone ordered pizza. The interns, assistants, analysts, and other business folks came and went. Natalia chatted with clients and drew diagrams and yawned when no one was looking.

She took a taxi home late in the evening. She slept for a few hours, showered, changed, and was then back in the office again just after dawn.

J-O came in at 9:30, greeted her with a quick nod, and disappeared into a meeting. Phones rang, an assistant yelled, and her work once again took over Natalia's thoughts.

“Natalia!” one of her colleagues called, and then suddenly the whole workday had passed. “We're starting the conference now!”

She grabbed an apple and a pad of paper. “Coming,” she replied.

It was already six o'clock, and they were far from done. It was going to be another long day of work. Just the way she liked it.