"In Manhattan, you would need to go to about floor sixty to get a view like this," she said to Katherine who had brought her champagne.
"Lucky London isn't so tall. Come here, let me show you this."
She escorted Alex to the outside terrace from where the views were even more breathtaking. "Just like the balcony at the races, but another part of the world to watch."
"But more than a balcony. And, at the races, I didn't see hot tubs."
Katherine laughed and then, looking at her mobile phone as it beeped, said: "Nick will be here in a few minutes, shall we offer our congratulations."
"Katherine," Alex said urgently in a near whisper as they went inside, "Do I call him Mr Hensen or Nick?"
"He won't mind, don't worry about it."
With no glass door to open – somehow the lift knew it was him – Nick, followed by Tavis, walked straight out. "I'm so sorry everyone, it's really rude as a host to arrive late for your own party, but we stopped off at the racecourse stables to give Manarola a pat and a mint."
The guests laughed and raised their glasses.
"To Manarola!" roared Lord Ashton.
"Hear, hear," responded several of the guests.
"Thank you so much everyone.
"And for my speech, I'd like to thank my mum and my dad...and Manarola's mum and dad, and...err...that's about it."
Even Lord Ashton's bellow was muffled by loud laughter and the cheers of the other guests.
After he had greeted many of the people there, Nick Hensen looked at Alex, smiled and approached her.
"Alex, I'm really pleased you came. I've heard a few things about you today. "
"Oh dear, go on."
"Well, there's a rumour you won a lot of money on Manarola."
"This is true," she smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.
"A rumour that you and Tavis drunk quite a large amount of very fine whisky?"
"Yes, we were partners in the crime," she admitted, laughing and holding her hands up.
"And..no... I'm not even going there with Tavis's reading of your body language."
Alex looked across the room more urgently than she would have preferred and then back at him. "Well, I think that's wise. The joint charge for which I have already pleaded guilty, the drinking of the whisky with Tavis, also provides the evidence for why his person-reading skills were not at their best today."
"I heard you came back here with Lord and Lady Ashton. They are fun aren't they?" he said, sensing she was uncomfortable discussing Tavis's theories.
"They were brilliant, a comedy double act. They should be on TV."
"Ha...maybe a business opportunity," he said.
"And, talking of business, maybe we ought to meet up for lunch or something to discuss how we take things along and see what more work you might be able to do for us?"
"Sure, that will be great. Anything we can do."
"Katherine will call you next week.
"Just one thing, you can call me Nick, Nicky or Nicholas, but never Mr Hensen."
Katherine half wondered whether he was flirting with her.
"OK, Nicholas," she said.
"I'd actually prefer Nick," he laughed.
"I've just got to do some business. If you need anything Katherine will sort it. I'll catch up with you later."
On the other side of the room, sitting on a sofa, were Tavis Hamilton and Lord and Lady Ashton. Not wanting to strike up conversation with someone she hadn't already met, she moved towards them subtly, pretending not to notice them until too close to escape their attention.
"Alexander, dear girl. Please come and join us!" the Lord roared even though by now she was close by.
"Alexandra, you fool," said the Lady.
"Oh, hi everyone. I could do with a sit down, it's a tiring business having a great day at the races and evening drinks in Mayfair."
"Tavis has just been telling us that you and him shared a very expensive bottle of whisky at the races."
"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid."
"She doesn't look too bad on it, especially when you consider all the wine and champagne as well," Tavis teased.
"You can talk!" she said while acting as if about to throw a cushion at him.
The four of them talked about Hensen Fund Management, known in the financial world as a 'hedge fund', an investment club for very wealthy private investors such as Lord and Lady Ashton.
Then the conversation turned to Tavis's recent trip to Africa, where he had volunteered for an unpaid job to check the company's charity donations were being wisely spent. And then of Lord and Lady Ashton's country home in Sussex and their London apartment. "Nothing like as expensive as this one, dear," the Lord lamented about the latter.
Eventually, the topic turned to her. "And, you dear, you live in Shoreditch, own a company that works for Hensen. And do you have family here?" asked Lady Ashton.
"No I don't have anyone here. I have a sister back in the States and the odd uncle and aunt scattered around the east coast."
Alex didn't mention that her parents were dead and the others, though wondering, didn't like to ask.
"And do you get to see your sister?" asked the Lady.
"No, I don't...well, I haven't for a while," she replied.
Lady Ashton went on: "Oh dear, London can be a lonely city at the best of times. Without any family here it must be very difficult. I guess you've got lots of friends."
"Oh, yes," she lied.
She wanted to change the subject and was waiting for an opportunity. But they kept asking questions about her life in both London and New York, and although aware that Tavis was studying her and would have noticed any diversion, she felt she needed to get away.
"Blonde moment! I've left my bag on the terrace. Excuse me I must go and get it, it's got my phone in and everything." As she walked away she considered that her performance, as short as it was, was worthy of an Academy award. Her bag, she knew, was actually beside the sofa where they were sitting.
She opened the door to the terrace and, on seeing him there, didn't have time to close it and return inside before Hensen, who was smoking a cigarette and looking at the view, turned round.
"Alex, how are you doing?"
Oh God, he'll be thinking I'm out here to boost my business or that I'm a money-chasing seductress, she thought.
"Hi Nick, didn't expect you to be here, I was out here earlier and think I've left my bag."
"Don't worry about it. It's not going to rain and I trust the guests won't steal it. Well most of them, anyway," he laughed. "Come here and we'll have a chat."
Her stomach churned.
"Really, I've drunk far too much today and I really must be getting home soon. If I can find my bag..."
"Ten minutes."
"Oh, I do need to go."
"Ten minutes or I cancel your contract," he smiled.
"Oh, go on then, can I just get some wine first?"
She returned to the terrace a couple of minutes later. "Smoking is bad for you," she said.
"So is drinking," he retorted, looking at her glass.
"Oh no, that's unfair...I rarely drink at home...it's just that it's been such a good day. I've really enjoyed it, met some interesting people, and...well.. thanks for the invite."
"You are welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it. And what was the highlight of your day?"
"Oh, there were many. The countryside, the colours, the beauty of the horses, backing Manarola, meeting Tavis and Lord and Lady Ashton..." She nearly added "and you" but stopped herself just in time. She rephrased the words to sound more businesslike. "It's also been good to get to know the people who work for the company, Katherine and you."
"I really enjoyed it too," he said, blowing some smoke into the night air. "And I'm glad that I got to see again the lady who stole my place in the lift."
Damn, he is flirting again, she thought. "Sorry about that. If I'd have known I was taking the place of the head of a company that had just given me a contract I
would have used the stairs."
"Have you not heard, that you should be nice to people on the way up as you'll meet them again on the way down?" he replied.
She grinned.
Alex thought she could banter with the best, but in this company she realised she might have met her match.
The two of them then talked about their love of both London and New York. He visited Alex's former home city once a month on business and looked puzzled to hear she hadn't been back since moving to London. Eventually, he seemed to accept her explanation, the pressure of trying to keep her business afloat.
She was expecting another awkward question when they were joined on the terrace by a tall brunette, who seemed to have enjoyed the hospitality of the day's events even more than she had. Holding her glass high, and uneasy on her heels, she let out a high-pitched squeal as she approached them.
"Nicky, darling, I wondered where you were hiding."
"Hi Liv," he replied a little coldly.
"I need a cigarette."
Waiting for her to gain her bearings so she might manage to pull one from the packet, he introduced Olivia Hartley, who looked like a model, or at least she would have done had she not seemed the worse for alcohol.
"Liv, this is Alex Anderson whose company will soon be working for the fund."
Olivia was still struggling to remove a cigarette. Eventually he pulled one out and handed it to her.
"Thanks Nicky, darling, and nice to meet you Alex.
"Hope you two have been behaving yourselves."
"Alex, Olivia was my PA before Katherine," said Nick.
"I wasn't only your PA, Nicky, darling," Olivia said, looking accusingly at her former boss.
"No, you did plenty of work in various areas of the company and you are missed," he replied with no hint of a smile. "Maybe you should ask Katherine to get you a car home."
Alex felt uncomfortable. The last thing she expected in such surroundings was confrontation between Nick Hensen and a drunken former employee. "Listen, guys, I really must go myself," she said. "I have got to find my handbag and get a taxi. Monday morning I start work on the contract and I'm going to spend tomorrow preparing.
"Lovely to meet you, Nick, and I'll speak to Katherine in the week."
"Yes, definitely. Ask her to call one of our drivers. It's been good to meet you and I look forward to us working together."
She didn't go through with the charade of walking round the terrace looking for a handbag that she knew was in the apartment but she kissed Olivia on the cheek. "Nice to meet you Olivia," and then, after shaking hands with Nick Hensen, made a hasty exit.
"Quite a head turner," Olivia said to Nick after she had left. He didn't respond.
Inside, Lord and Lady Ashton and Tavis Hamilton were still engaged in conversation, although the latter looked bleary-eyed, finally succumbing to the whisky he had been drinking for many hours.
"Oh, here it is," she exclaimed, picking up her bag. "I'm so forgetful."
"Alex, dear, welcome back, come and sit down," said Lady Ashton.
"Oh no, Eleanor, I really must be going now."
"But stay here longer and then you can sleep over at ours. We are only in Bayswater."
"I'd love to Eleanor, but I'm starting on Nick's contract on Monday and tomorrow I need to prepare. All the stuff I need is back in my flat. And it's just ten minutes in a taxi.
"So lovely to meet you and Lord Ashton," she said, pecking both on the cheek. "And you Tavis...must keep in touch."
He rose with what little energy he had left. "My darling, it has been a pleasure and if I didn't have such a wonderful wife you wouldn't stand a chance.
"Give me a call when you fancy an afternoon drinking whisky in some seedy Soho bar, and I'll pick up the bill," he added while handing her his card.
"Sure will," she replied.
She then went to find Katherine. In Park Lane there was no shortage of taxis to hail but how to get out of the apartment with the elevator that could have been in a James Bond film?
"Hi Katherine, I'm going now, I'll get a taxi downstairs."
"Oh don't be silly, we have a driver sitting all bored on the bonnet of his car, waiting for someone to take home. Let me give him a call."
"Do you mind. I've felt quite like I've been playing above my league all day. I think just getting in the back of a black cab and going back to my normal life would be...sorry, it sounds rude...but a bit relaxing?"
Katherine smiled. "Well, you are certainly not playing above your league but I do understand what you are saying. A bit like taking your boots off after a day at the shops.
"Nick has told me to call you in the week and I'll do that. Let me sort the lift for you."
A short walk up Park Lane, outside the Hilton, she got into a cab. "Shoreditch please." On the journey she wondered how she could be so relieved to escape one of the best days she had in ages.
What to make of everyone. There was Tavis Hamilton, witty, clever and friendly but clearly suspicious of her; Lord and Lady Ashton, adorable and funny; Katherine Price, ever so smart, lovely in looks and personality and amazingly efficient. And Nick, rich, attractive but easygoing...and a total flirt.
She opened the door of her flat with relief. Away from the beautiful people, she kicked off her heels and enjoyed a late-night snack of cheese on toast while watching a rubbish movie on TV. "Bliss," she thought.
By the time she dragged herself into bed, it was nearly 3 am. As she drifted off to sleep, she planned the day ahead. She'd spend an hour with the Sunday papers and the afternoon working on the Hensen contract.
But as she dozed her mobile phone bleeped with a text message. It startled her to hear the distinctive tone at that time of the night. It read simply: "Beware Nick Hensen." It was from a number that she didn't recognise but the end of the message carried an invitation to use a company that offered a free online SMS service.
What the hell does it mean, and who sent it? she thought.
She got out of bed, made some tea and read the message again. It was still there, she hadn't been dreaming.
Who sent it...Tavis, Katherine, the drunk woman? It couldn't be the Lord or Lady, she figured, as they belonged to the pre-internet era. Maybe it was Nick himself she considered, maybe some kind of joke. Or someone else from the company she had yet to meet.
She returned to bed and turned her radio to the World Service but barely listened. Her mind was busy wondering not only who sent the text but why it was sent and, perhaps most importantly, why she should be wary of Nick Hensen.
Chapter three: Checking on Nick and a guy in the bar
The doorbell rang at 8.15 am. The Sunday Times being too big to fit through the letter box, Alex regularly tipped the paper boy to signal to her when he had dropped it outside.
She got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make coffee and toast. Her first thought was that she felt quite hungover, her second was the message from the night before.
Pouring the coffee, she decided that telling Nick about the text would be a mistake since the sender might be genuinely trying to warn her about something. Telling him might even even put her contract at risk. But what might the 'something' be?
She sipped coffee as she went to the front door to collect the newspaper. "Bankers face new government inquiry," the headline ran. Oh joy, she thought.
Back in the bedroom, she ate the toast, dropping crumbs on the white cotton sheets, and read the paper, quickly giving up the news section for fashion. What to wear for my meeting with Nick, even if he is a man who needs treating with caution, she wondered.
Then, after considering an expensive Burberry dress, she grabbed her laptop to Google Nick Hensen and find out what she could. Curiosity killed the cat, she worried.
She already knew he was not married. Someone at the pitch for her contract had described him as "Britain's most eligible bachelor".
Under Personal Life in Wikipedia, Alex read:
He stated in an interview with the
Financial Times that he and a former partner, the dancer Claire Westwood, had a daughter named Chloe who died when she was just six days old in 2005.
His relationship with Ms Westwood, now married to John Evans, the lead singer of rock band Hounded, ended one year later.
Hensen has been linked with several celebrities in tabloid newspapers, including the English film star Jennifer Hutton and the Swedish singer Annalina Engman, but has never married.
In The Sunday Times Rich List Hensen was ranked as the 41st wealthiest man in Britain with a fortune of £505 million. Wow, she thought.
She almost pressed the back button to look for more on him but instead clicked the 'X' on her browser window and returned to the fashion in the paper. Buffeting around in the back of her mind, was the reason she quit the search - that she was scared of what she might find.
It's the internet. Anyone can write anything about anyone, she decided. Best to find out in real life.
Then, having looked at a picture of a Jimmy Choo handbag at nearly a month's salary of what she was paying herself - she had another change of mind. She called one of her three employees, computer geek, Adrian Wilson.
"Ade, sorry to trouble you on a Sunday, and this early too, but I need a favour."
"Go on," he grumbled having been awoken by her call.
"I've got a meeting with Nick Hensen in the week about that contract we won. I know it is not really in your remit but would you mind digging up some stuff on him, so that...you know...I don't look too much out my depth?"
He turned in his bed. "What time is it... yeah, no probs...I've got a program for that, people search, bios, newspaper comments, recent news, Facebook, Twitter, all social networks...it'll grab everything in a few minutes.
"I'll have something on your desk tomorrow."
"Oh, OK, thanks," she said. "I didn't realise it was that easy. Ade, I'll see you tomorrow. It's nine by the way. Time you were up."
"Cheers Alex," said Adrian with sarcasm before he hung up.
The problem was whether she actually wanted to read what his program discovered. She decided a run might clear her mind. Shoreditch to Tower Bridge a couple of miles, grab a coffee, then back to start on the Hensen stuff.
Special Relationship Page 3
