Unbound (4 page)

“Manage what?” I’m still so busy thinking about the perplexing Jonathan Huntington that I’m not really listening.

Annie gives me a nudge, bringing my attention abruptly back to reality and to what she’s saying. “Well, come on—you’ve just arrived with the boss. How did you manage that? Tell me!”

“It was …a coincidence. We met at the airport and he offered to give me a ride with him and his associates.” It actually sounds quite credible. But Annie isn’t fooled. She cocks her head to one side.

“And how did he know who you are? Do you know each other?”

She’s got me. I can feel my cheeks getting hot and I take her aside because I don’t want the receptionist to overhear, and she’s keeping an eye on us and is clearly very interested. “No. I …I went up and spoke to him,” I confess quietly. “It was a mistake. I thought—he had come to pick me up.”

Annie looks at me, completely dumbfounded. And then she laughs, as if it were the best joke she’s heard in ages. “You thought the boss had come to pick you up, in person?”

“Yes, I know,” I groan and roll my eyes. “Don’t rub it in. I’m already embarrassed enough. Can we change the subject, please?”

“Of course.” Annie is still grinning broadly. “For the time being, at least.” She indicates my suitcase. “You can leave that here with Caroline and pick it up later. First, I’m going to show you your new area of operations.” Her smile is so contagious and friendly, and she’s so disarmingly open that I can’t help feeling comfortable around her.

We leave the suitcase with Caroline, who shoves the thing behind the counter and assures me that she’ll take good care of it, scrutinizing me with obvious interest all the while. Then it’s our turn to get into one of the two elevators, which are adjacent to each other. It has a mirrored interior and, like everything else here, looks very grand and luxurious. One glance at my reflection reveals that I look unnaturally pale—probably the after-effect of meeting one of England’s most eligible bachelors.

While we’re going up, Annie explains that she is twenty-three and has been working as a junior assistant in the investment department at Huntington Ventures for a year.

“It’s my means of entry into the industry,” she says. “And it could have been much, much worse.”

I am a bit envious that, although we are almost the same age, she’s so much further along than I am. It’s true that it won’t be much longer until I’ve finished school, but would I be able to get a job at such a great company?

I’m not only envious of her position at Huntington Ventures but also of her self-confident, cheerful manner, and her relaxed approach to things.

“This is the department where you’ll be working,” she explains, as we get out on the fourth floor and walk down a long hallway. Everything looks light and spacious. Glass doors lead to a variety of large offices with floor-to-ceiling windows and very busy-looking people sitting in them. This is where they plan the new projects Huntington Ventures is going to be involved in. We do all the research, check the market odds, and carry out all the preliminary discussions—and then management deals with the rest.

She accompanies me into each office and introduces her colleagues to me—but there are too many of them for me to remember right away. Only a few names stick in my mind: the secretary, a very friendly older woman, is named Veronica; the head of department, a man of about forty with thinning hair, introduces himself as Clive; and then there’s Shadrach, a younger colleague, possibly of Pakistani origin, whom I guess to be in his late twenties and shares an office with Annie. There are more of them, at least a dozen in total, whom I’m bound to get to know better over the coming days. They’re all very friendly, but I still think Annie is the nicest.

“I’ll show you the other departments here in the building some time, if you’re interested.” Out in the hallway, Annie hands me a folder. “You’ll find everything you need to know about our company in there.” And she gives me yet another photocopy with a complicated drawing on it. “And that’s our organogram—so you can get an overview.” I cast an eye over the intricately branching network and am amazed by the number of jigsaw pieces that make up the company. I’m familiar with many of them from my own research, but some of the points here are completely new. And, as I leaf through the folder in which the company’s further activities are printed on high-gloss paper, I realize that Huntington Ventures is much more than just an investment company. It’s an empire, with international connections and wide-ranging areas of influence. They have holdings not just in high finance and construction but also in almost every industrial and commercial sector, and they also fund cultural projects. My respect for Jonathan Huntington’s achievements has just gone up a lot.

When I look up again, Annie is grinning. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

I know that she’s talking about the company but I can’t stop thinking about the man who runs it. I nod silently.

Annie walks on and pushes open the door of an office at the end of the hallway. It also has an outer wall made of glass but it’s very small. There’s a desk in front of the window and one wall is completely covered in filing cabinets, leaving not much room to move.

“The intern’s office,” Annie announces, and grins at me again in her unabashed, candid way.

I sigh. What had I been expecting—a red carpet? And, after all, it’s not so bad. It may be almost at the far end of the hallway, but it’s not far from Annie’s office, which I find a little reassuring. After all, she’s the only one I know here—so far. Apart from Jonathan Huntington, but I need to stop thinking about him so much.

“And what do I do in here?” I ask, moving behind the desk, to take a closer look at my workplace.

“What all interns do—make tea and coffee.” Annie indicates the door opposite. “That’s the kitchen, you see—it’s very convenient for you.”

For a moment I’m speechless. “You’re not serious, are you?” Did I say I liked her? I was wrong, I find all English people strange.

For a moment she just stands there, leaning against the doorframe with a neutral expression, but then she can’t keep a straight face anymore and bursts out laughing. “No, of course not. The room over there really is the kitchen and you can make yourself tea and coffee in there, if you like—we’re fully equipped. But otherwise, of course, you have rather more demanding duties.”

I look at her, relieved, and have to smile. “Who am I going to be working with?” I ask.

Annie grins. “Who would you like to be working with?” For some reason my stomach gives another lurch because the only person who occurs to me is Jonathan Huntington. The blood rushes into my cheeks and Annie seems to guess the direction of my thoughts. Her grin becomes even broader.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you won’t make it to management level quite that fast. Our boss might have brought you here but he doesn’t normally take a personal interest in the interns. You’ll have to make do with me.”

“Of course—I’d much prefer that,” I assure her, quickly.

“Did you really just go up and speak to him?” Annie obviously still can’t quite believe it. I nod and squirm inwardly once more, remembering the embarrassing incident at the airport. “But it was his idea to bring me here. I wanted to take the subway, as soon as I realized what a stupid mistake I’d made.”

Annie frowns. “He was the one who offered to bring you here?”

“Yes, why? Is that so unusual? I mean—he was probably just trying to be nice.”

Annie snorts, as if that were a completely absurd idea.

“Jonathan Huntington—the nice boy next door?”

I feel obliged to defend him. He could have ignored me or just left me there, after all.

“I thought he was nice,” I insist.

For the first time since we met, Annie’s facial expression turns really serious.

“Let me give you a piece of friendly advice, Grace, don’t start reading anything into it.”

I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

She’s looking at me with a slightly despairing expression on her face. “Listen, we’re not all blind here. The boss is bloody good-looking and you’re not the first one to get all starry-eyed looking at him. Most of them worship him from afar but it’s pointless, believe me. And those who’ve worked with him more closely, and who’ve really had it bad, have left at some point. Just last month, there was a woman from the press office who had a lot of dealings with him because of a project. They all leave the company voluntarily, for good reasons, because they’ve found another job or because they are looking for new challenges—but, if you ask me, they left because they couldn’t be the woman at Jonathan Huntington’s side.” She gives me a penetrating look. “Remember that and keep your hands off him. You’re just wasting your time.”

As if I didn’t already know that. But now I’m curious.

“Why doesn’t he have any girlfriends? Is he …?”

“Gay?” Annie finishes the sentence for me, and then laughs. “No, definitely not. But he’s no prince, even if he does have a title. So listen to me and don’t give him the starring role in your own personal fairy tale. He’s too much for you to handle.”

I sigh. I probably ought to be offended by Annie, trying to set my head straight like this—we hardly know each other, after all. What’s really embarrassing is how it’s so obvious that meeting Jonathan Huntington made such a big impression on me. But she means well, I can tell—she really does want to warn me, to save me from getting disappointed later. And perhaps this is exactly the kind of brutal, candid talking-to I need. Maybe the idea that I could be the great Jonathan Huntington’s next victim is not completely out of question.

“Don’t worry, I’m not that naive,” I tell her, managing a lopsided smile. It’s not true, actually, I’m darn naive when it comes to men—but that’s something I really don’t want to discuss with my new colleague. “And I’m unlikely to see Mr. Huntington again anyway. Or does he stop by often?”

Part of me hopes he does, although I know how stupid that is—especially after the warning I just received.

Annie shakes her head. “No, actually, very seldom. But then he doesn’t usually give interns a lift. Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.” The tone of her voice is deadly serious and I’m uneasy. Is she afraid that Jonathan Huntington might be interested in me? That’s completely absurd. And even if he were—why would I need to be careful?

I’m about to open my mouth and ask her what she means by that but, with a determined gesture, Annie indicates the papers on the desk. Clearly, the topic is closed for her.

“I’ve put your first task on the desk for you. They’re project reports, to be decided on soon. Read them and get an idea of what they’re about, so that you can take part in the follow-up discussions. And don’t take it lightly, because we’re going to ask you which you think is most promising and why.”

“Is it a test?” I ask.

She smiles broadly again. “Yes, in a way, it is. Does that bother you?”

“No.”

“Good, because it’s in your own interest. When we know how good you are, we’ll have a better idea of where to assign you.” She looks at the clock. “Will you be OK on your own for now?” I nod. “Then I’ll leave you to it. If you have any questions, you can ask me for help. You know where to find me.”

When she’s almost out of the door, I stop her once more.

“Can I use the telephone later?” I ask, pointing to the phone on my desk. “I’m renting an apartment nearby and I need to call the landlord to find out when and where to pick up the keys.”

“Of course,” Annie says. “We want you to settle in.”

She almost closes the door, and then sticks her head back in. “By the way, it’s great to have you here,” she says, and she sounds so honest that it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I turn to the reports I’m supposed to be studying with renewed vigor. I’m going to have a wonderful time here; I can feel it. What could possibly go wrong?

Looking up from the papers and my notes on them, a little later, I’m astonished to realize that it’s already almost three o’clock. I was so absorbed in the reports, that I didn’t even notice the time.

I rub my eyes. I’m tired. Now I’m really feeling my lack of sleep, so I go into the kitchen to make myself a stimulating beverage. Annie wasn’t exaggerating; the room has every modern convenience and little luxury you could possibly wish for. There is a tea-maker and one of those very expensive coffee machines that allows you to choose what type of coffee you want. I deliberate for a moment, and then decide to have tea. I’m in England, after all, so I might as well get used to it.

I take my mug to the window, and look out at the city of London. Huntington Ventures is in a modern building, but directly opposite, there’s one of those historic buildings downtown is famous for. I don’t know if it’s the Stock Exchange or the Bank of England, but I’m sure I’ll eventually find all that out. After all, I have plenty of time to explore the city at my leisure. It’s only the beginning of May, and my flight back to Chicago isn’t till the end of July, which means that I have twelve weeks to explore.

I smile and look up at the sky. It’s not cloudy anymore like it was when I arrived but rather a clear blue. They’ve got the air conditioning on in here but the bright afternoon sun reflected in the windows of the building opposite suggests that it’s pleasantly warm outside.

I’m about to turn away and go back to my office when I look down at the street and see a long black car pulling up. I recognize the limousine I rode in earlier today and, a second later, my heart gives a little lurch when I see two men stepping out onto the sidewalk directly beneath me. I recognize Jonathan Huntington right away, even at this distance, and the other one must be the Japanese man, Yuuto Nagako. They’re talking to each other as they get in and a second later the limousine drives off again and merges into traffic. It turns the corner and disappears from sight.

There he goes, I think, feeling a little melancholy. Jonathan Huntington—the man you should keep your hands off. I snort quietly and shake my head. As if he wanted me to get my hands on him! Dream on, Grace. Or, better still, stop dreaming. Wake up.

I quickly leave the kitchen and walk down the quiet corridor. Two of the glass doors up ahead are open, but it’s quiet nevertheless, everyone is working. Although I’ve finished the tasks they gave me, I don’t want to disturb anyone, so I return to my office, sit down at my desk and search for the number of the landlord I still need to call.