by Hamel, B. B.
But I could tell she was uncomfortable with this whole thing, so I let it drop, and walked around the counter to get some coffee. She gave me a look as I did it, but directed me to the cabinet with the mugs, got me some milk, and joined me back out in the living room on the couch.
“Here’s the deal,” I said, stirring my coffee, then taking a sip. It tasted bitter and harsh, but coffee was coffee, and it did the job. “You understand the SPAC part of all this, right?”
“Vaguely,” she said, shaking a hand side to side. “I mean, enough.”
“All you need to know is, this company needs investors, and we have a month to pull it off. Three weeks, really, at this point.” I let my eyes drift down to her long, lean legs. They were distracting. I needed to concentrate, but her thighs made me want to keep flirting with her instead.
“Where do we start?” she asked.
“New York,” I said, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “There’s a man, his name is Mirko Poma. He’s from Norway, made his money in oil, and now he’s something of an eccentric investor. Likes to take big risks that sometimes pay off and sometimes don’t.”
“How do you know him?”
I took another long sip of coffee. “He’s the sort of man everyone knows,” I said. “We’ve run in the same circles for a few years now, know the same people, like to take the same bets. He didn’t come on board at first because the SPAC game isn’t typically something he’s into, but I’m taking another crack at him, and I need you to help convince him.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” she said, leaning back against the couch and staring down at the rug with this pouty stare. I had another sudden urge to touch her leg and stood, pacing away toward the opposite wall.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said. “This afternoon, we’ll get you acclimated, introduce you around the office, make a big show of it. So I need you to get changed and ready.”
“Right now?” she asked.
“Right now,” I confirmed, and gestured toward her bedroom. “Or can’t you get dressed with your boyfriend in the apartment?”
She rolled her eyes again and I got the sense she’d be doing that a lot, but she got up and went into her bedroom. She didn’t close the door, and I stayed in the living room, able to catch glimpses of her as she moved around. I watched her take off her top, saw the side of her breasts as she turned away, and I felt a sudden jolt of desire—it was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen in my life, and I’d only gotten a small glimpse of her round, full breasts. I tore myself away from the door, and started speaking just to fill the silence, and to keep myself under control.
“Mirko’s an odd one,” I said, speaking loudly so we could hear. “He won’t make this easy on us, I can promise you that. He likes to mess around with me, and once he gets wind that we’re together, he’ll be merciless. Try and keep your distance, if you can, and don’t let yourself get charmed by him.”
“I’m not easily charmed,” she said, then appeared in the doorway, half-dressed wearing a navy button down blouse, the front open to reveal a hint of her chest and her bra. “How’s this?”
I stared at her and god damn it, she was doing this on purpose. But I nodded and gestured in her direction. “That’s fine.”
She smiled and dipped back into her room. “What’s our story then? I’ve been your assistant for a while?”
“No,” I said, pacing again, thinking about her body, her lips. “You’re new, just like in real life. We met through Lori at some party, she wouldn’t even remember the one, and started seeing each other after that. We’ve been secreting dating for a month now, and I hired you as my assistant to keep you closer.”
“Is that a good idea, bringing Lori into this?” She appeared at the door again, this time her top buttoned, and a pair of slacks added to the ensemble.
“It won’t matter,” I said. “There was a party a month ago, and Lori did attend. For all she knows, we actually met there. She won’t have to lie if she says she doesn’t know for sure, or if she can’t remember.”
She made a dubious face, and I could tell she had a problem with my story. Typical lawyer—she wanted to make it her own, and probably thought she could come up with something more airtight. But damn it, Jack and I spent a lot of time on this cover, and I knew it would be perfect. It was plausible, and while it tangentially involved Lori, she wouldn’t have to lie if questioned.
Millie disappeared back into her room and I began to pace again, heart pumping. Coming here was a mistake—I thought it would start the bonding process, but instead it only made me want to take her even more than I already did, which was a liability. We needed people to think we were fucking, but we didn’t actually want to fuck. Getting entangled like that would only distract the both of us, and we didn’t have the time to waste.
She came out a few minutes later, dressed in a tasteful outfit. She didn’t have any makeup, and her hair was in a messy bun, but the clothes were perfect at least. “I just have one problem,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “If we’re secretly dating, why would you hire me as your assistant, and why the hell would I do it?”
“Because you’re procrastinating taking the bar exam, and you need to pay rent, and I need an assistant. You’re wildly overqualified, but I don’t care, because I’m fucking you senseless in my office every afternoon, and you don’t care, because I’m paying you far too much money, and also because I’m fucking you senseless and you love it.”
Her lips formed a tight line. “You’re assuming a lot about your sexual prowess.”
“I’m the kind of man that forms his opinions based on prior experience.” I tilted my head a little and let my eyes roam along her curves, thinking about that hint of her breasts I saw just a few minutes earlier. “And I have a lot of experience.”
Her face softened and she shook her head, but her cheeks blushed again, and she disappeared back into her room.
I killed time on the couch, drinking my coffee while she finished getting ready. It took her another fifteen minutes, which wasn’t too bad. By the time she emerged, we were later than I wanted, but she looked perfect, the consummate professional.
“You’ll make one hell of a lawyer,” I said. “Those old judges won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”
“Plenty of women are judges now too, you know,” she said as she shouldered her black leather bag and glared.
“Women can also be attracted to you.” I put my mug down on her coffee able. “Come on then. Let’s go to work.”
She followed me outside, down the stoop, and we waited as I called for my driver. I watched her move foot to foot, nervously bouncing a little, and even though this was already more involved and fraught and emotionally intense than I ever imagined it might be—I had to admit, I was having a good time.
Millie was beautiful, she was flirty, she was smart, and she wanted to fuck me. She had it all.
My driver arrived, we climbed inside, and got started.
3
Millie
We flew in a private jet from Philadelphia to New York early the next morning, which took almost no time at all, and was a stupid, extravagant waste. When I pointed out that we could’ve taken the train for half the price, and a quarter of the environmental cost, Rees only shook his head and said, “Nothing but the best for my girlfriend.”
I knew what he was doing. His visit to my apartment was a test, and I had no clue if I passed or not, and I found that I didn’t really care. He could shove his test up his ass. I was doing him a favor and risking a lot for this situation, and although he was compensating me big time, that still didn’t mean he got to treat me like an employee.
We were partners, as far as I was concerned.
A black town car drove us from the airport into Manhattan. I’d never been to New York before, and I tried not to gape around me at the incredible building towering over the streets, at the profusion of people walking in groups packed along the sidewalks, at the bustle and the motio
n. Philadelphia was a big city, with a lot of activity, but it was dwarfed by New York’s sheer size. I was intimidated, but I tried not to show it.
I’d barely been away from the Philly region. I grew up in the northeast in a little townhouse that smelled like mothballs and my grandmom’s cigarettes. The furthest I ever went away from home was Penn State, and even that wasn’t so far.
New York felt like a fairytale, or a world I’d never known before. If Rees noticed that I was actively trying not to stare, he didn’t show it. Really, he didn’t show much of anything: since the moment we took off, he’d barely looked at me twice, and acted like I didn’t exist.
Which was probably for the best. I kept thinking to that morning, and the way I’d teased him, taking off my shirt where I knew he could see me, coming out again half-dressed, letting him look at me, parading myself in front of him like that—it was so pathetic and stupid. Some dumb, insane part of me wanted to take him up on his offer to have sex right then and there, since maybe he was right, maybe fucking and getting it out of the way would relieve whatever insane feeling I had for him. Letting it fest might only make it worse, complicate things, leave it a mystery and make me want it more.
He was an attractive man, as much as I hated to admit it, and he was right. There was tension between us, thicker than the Grand Canyon. I wanted to let him drive his hand into my hair and push me up against the door of the car, his teeth biting my button lip as his other hand reaches down between my legs—
“We’re here,” he said, peering out the window as the car pulled over in front of a nondescript townhouse. “East 74th street. Good spot.”
I frowned at him then looked outside again. “I thought we were meeting at his office.”
“Mirko doesn’t have an office,” he said, climbing out of the car. I scrambled to catch up as he walked toward the door tucked in the center of the building. It looked like it spanned twice as wide as all the other homes on the block, with large bay windows and a gorgeous facade. Rees knocked once then rang the bell, and a middle-aged woman wearing a black button-down shirt and black pants answered.
“Hello, Mr. Rees,” she said with a light accent. She had dark hair down around her shoulders, a small nose, light brown skin, and a big smile.
Rees smiled back. “Hi Louisa. He’s expecting us.”
“Yes he is. He’s out back though, in the courtyard.”
“Of course he is.” Rees followed Louisa inside, and I hurried after them, my heels making a light slacking on the smooth hardwood floors.
I’d never seen so much wealth in my life. Priceless pots, thick Persian rugs, oil paintings that looked like they belonged in the museum, and a smattering of sculptures lined the hallways. I caught glimpses of other rooms: a sparkling kitchen bigger than my apartment, an office in all wood and leather, a sitting room with enough space for fifty. Everything was plush, manicured, dusted, and pristine. I could’ve paid my rent by stealing a single work of art from the hallway alone.
Louisa took us out a back door and onto a porch that overlooked a concrete-slab back yard. It was twice that size of what I expected, with benches and a bird bath, and skinny trees with long, green leaves. It was a fairytale, tucked in the middle of an urban environment, the sort of place I thought Jane Austen would’ve had tea if she were absurdly wealthy.
“Thank you,” Rees said to Louisa, who smiled and slipped away. A man sat down on the bench, wearing a pair of shorts and a button-up camp shirt with an airplane motif repeated across the bright blue fabric. He had a gray straw hat tilted forward, a white cup in one hand, and a newspaper in the other.
Rees gave me a look that I struggled to read, but I wasn’t sure I could understand body language, given how overwhelmed I felt. He walked down the steps and into the back yard, and the man on the bench looked up, lowering the paper. He had bright blue eyes, a bushy white beard, and a wrinkled face, with thick laugh lines and a hooked nose.
“Rees, you came,” he said, setting aside the paper. “Did you say hello to Louisa? She loves you, you know, you old dog. I bet she’d have your babies. And you brought me a present, look at this time.” His voice was deep, almost rumbling, with an odd southern-seeming accent, clipped consonant, elongated vowels. He stood, and was a few inches shorter than Rees, but still towered over me.
“This is my assistant, Millie,” he said.
I reached out a hand and Mirko took it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Poma,” I said.
“Call me Mirko, all these fuckers do.” He squeezed my hand hard and grinned savagely. “Millie, what a pretty nice, and what a pretty girl.”
“We came to talk to you, Mirko,” Rees said, stepping forward. Mirko tore his gaze from me and removed his hand, and I felt like I’d been lined up in front of a crowd and summarily judged.
“Of course, why else show up for the meeting we scheduled?” Mirko laughed and gestured at the benches. “Come on, sit down, join me. It’s a nice day.”
He returned to his spot. Rees sat on the bench to his right, and I sat next to Rees, leaving a gap between us. I crossed my legs and kept my back straight, and I caught Mirko looking at me, a slight frown on his lips like he wasn’t sure what to make of me. I returned his look, forcing myself not to glance away. I’d met men like him before, in law school—petty men that thought they could push be around, since I was a woman.
Rees didn’t treat me like that. He certainly messed with me, and tried to knock me from my comfort zone, but I never got the sense that it had anything to do with my gender, but more just the way he treated everyone. I actually liked that about him—he was a dick, but he was a dick equally to all.
“I assume you’ve heard about my SPAC,” Rees said, jumping in, skipping any of the normal formalities that might revolve around the courtship of an investor.
“Oh, sure, sure,” Mirko said. “Blank check company. Get a bunch of rich bastards to give you money and hope you make good investments. Seems like a lot of trust in you.”
“For good reason,” Rees said. “I’m guessing you heard about what happened with Giana.”
I grimaced and stared down at my hands. I hadn’t expected him to mention that up front, but it seemed as though he didn’t want to play games or mince words. I suspected Mirko might approve of that.
“Of course. You fucked her, yes? You did, didn’t you?” Mirko laughed deeply. “You sick bastard. Her husband’s in parliament.”
“I didn’t fuck her,” Rees said, an edge to his voice. “I’ve been seeing someone for over a month now. Giana was a friend, that’s all. Her husband’s a tiny cock.”
“Yes, well, politician.” Mirko took a long sip from his coffee and glanced toward me, then back to Rees. “This Millie here, she’s a new one. I’ve not seen her before.”
“She is new,” Rees agreed. “And she can confirm that the Giana story is bullshit.” He glanced at me, and I nodded along.
“Total bullshit,” I said.
“Well then, I am very much convinced,” Mirko said, eyes glittering with amusement. I wondered how well he knew Rees, or if they were simply distant acquaintances. I couldn’t tell if Mirko talked like this to all of his friends, or only to a person like Rees.
“We lost investors because of the Giana rumor,” Rees said. “And you know how the SPAC game goes. The more investors you have, the better deals you can pull. I’m looking for fresh blood.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” Mirko said, tilting his head. “You’re here for the pocketbook. It’s always the pocketbook, isn’t it not?” He looked at me, leaning forward. “I’m guessing you now something of this, of wanting to be used.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I said, shifting slighting in my seat, suddenly cold and uncomfortable. A breeze came down off the buildings and stirred some leaves off the ground. Nearby, cards honked, shrill and difficult, and Mirko’s gaze pinned me there, unflinching. “I don’t have any money.”
“No, but you have other things that men want.” Mirko’s tone was la
scivious and suggestive, and I leaned back away from him, trying not to let my outrage show. I was a god damn lawyer—or at least I’d gone to law school. Yes, men treated me like I was some toy they wanted to fuck, but that didn’t matter, men were men, and some were pieces of shit, like apparently Mirko was.
“Enough,” Rees said, before I could speak up, surprising me. “You don’t need to talk to her that way, Mirko. We can be civil.”
“Civil,” Mirko said, grinning again like he hadn’t said something inappropriate. “Yes, of course, of course. I went too far, and for that, I apologize.”
“She’s off limits,” Rees said, his tone firm, and I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I got the sense I wouldn’t like it if I did. “Do you hear me? This one’s very off limits.”
“Fine, fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever you say. I make one joke, and you Americans lose it.”
“We’re here to talk investments,” Rees said. “I know you have the capital, since your last gamble paid off. We all heard about that nasty little piece of business.”
Mirko beamed and shook his head, like a school boy caught stealing liquor from his parents. “Ah, well, finance, yes? It was a good trade, I think.”
“A damn good trade for you,” Rees said. Again, I was lost, but I let the men hash discuss it on their own: some arcane derivative Mirko had cooked up and made a fortune selling over the last six months. I sank back on the bench, thinking about the way Mirko had looked at me, and his disgusting comment.
Rees could’ve let it pass, but he hadn’t, and I appreciated that. I could handle myself and fight my own battles, but I liked that Rees stepped in. Some part of me wondered if he’d done it because he cared about me as a n actual person—or if because it was what his character would’ve done if a man hit on his girlfriend. The layers of deception were confusing, and I’d have to work hard to keep them separate if I wanted to survive this trip.
