“My apologies, Shaleigh,” Magnus says. “I feel like I’ve overstepped, and we should clear the air. You’re likely confused yourself.”
“Not at all, Mr Boyd,” I say, keeping my voice to the cool, professional tone that’s appropriate to this sort of thing. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Magnus nods. “But I want to.”
I don’t prompt him. I look vaguely in his direction, letting him find the words to tell me what it was he wanted to say.
“I don’t let myself get close to people. No close friends. This work is taxing enough as it is. Hostile takeovers is already a very mercenary line of work where trust is a premium, but I also work with billions of dollars. Getting close means getting soft. Means I stand to risk hundreds of thousands of people’s jobs by not pushing for the absolute best deal I can get. And that does mean I sacrifice certain things.”
“Certain… things?” I echo his words.
“Closeness. Chemistry. I can already tell that you and I will get along. I was watching you in the elevator when you arrived for the interview, and you were the only one who didn’t bore me after a few minutes. I don’t mean to sound too intense here, Shaleigh, but I sense we’ll make a great team. But there are limits to what team members do. And it’s your job to adapt to the reality that we will never be close.”
That almost stings, coming from him. He says this with such absolute force that it sounds like the law — that we can talk, but not connect. That we’ll never enjoy anything more than a professional relationship.
It seems like such a shame.
I’ve had, what, three encounters with this guy, and already he’s telling me to stay away — stay away yet stay close. Be useful, and only that.
I swallow my pride and nod. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else, Mr Boyd.”
Now I’m the one noticing a little shift in Magnus’ behavior. As if he was expecting — perhaps demanding — a different reaction. He looks around, trying to find something to latch his eyes to. Anything but address this awkwardness of his creation.
It’s my job to dispel that, so I clear my throat softly and add, “I believe you have a call in two minutes, Mr Boyd. I’ll patch you along once it arrives.”
“Excellent. And Shaleigh…” he notes, looking in my direction.
“Yes, Mr Boyd?”
“You can call me Magnus.”
I nod briskly. Maybe he’s right. That the chemistry that’s clearly showing up between us needs to be given a lot of space. That anything more this early might just jeopardize what could be the best job I’ve held down in a long time. I look straight at him again and then nod.
“As you say, Mr Boyd.”
Chapter Six
As soon as I get home, I head for my wardrobe and slip into something more comfortable. I have these really silly pajamas with little cartoon tigers and giraffes, and they just make my day. I only ever slip into them after an exhausting day.
Despite everything, my day breezed through easily. Magnus was pleasant to work with, even if he did still seem guarded. We even had a few casual conversations — he asked me idle questions about myself, and I did my best to bat them away gently.
I didn’t want him knowing too much. Not enough to have him getting curious.
And men always get curious, even if they say they won’t get involved.
My roommate, a guy named Phil, walks into the living room once he hears me plop myself down to the couch facing the TV. I can see him carrying a tray of tea.
He’s like this New Age guy who manages a tea shop, selling all sorts of exotic leaves from Thailand or Madagascar or wherever. Our apartment either smells excellent or smells terrible, and today there’s a whiff of something sweet and fruity. It smells wonderful.
“Is that for me?”
“No, but it is now,” Phil smiles, with the gentlest voice imaginable. He’s exceedingly calming. He’s the landlord’s cousin, so through him we’ve managed to get a pretty great deal on rent, for what would otherwise be too expensive for the relative dump that it is. Great location, though.
“Tell me all about your day,” Phil adds, pouring tea for the both of us into these Japanese-style ceramic tea bowls. I thank him and hold my bowl up to my lips. Too hot!
“Started work at that energy company, and it looks, you know, super corporate and intimidating. I’ve been a secretary before, sort of, not quite the way I phrased things in my resume — but it’s nothing like this job. The dude is an honest-to-goodness billionaire. Like there are articles written about how rich he is,” I smile. “And I knew it would be too much to ask for him to be a normal, nice guy. He’s… really weird about some things. Like intimacy.”
“Sleeping your way to the top already, girl?” Phil grins at me.
“Phil! Please. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“What sort of intimacy were you thinking? You filing documents away in a drawer for him while he checks your ass out?” my roommate suggests. He says everything in this fabulous sing-song voice that just makes every scenario he conjures up sound so silly.
“Maybe. I’ll wear that pencil skirt tomorrow. He’ll definitely check me out then,” I say, nodding. “He’s hot, by the way. Like young and hot and rich, not… balding and old.”
“I didn’t know those kinds of billionaires existed,” Phil jokes. “You are the luckiest girl around. Man candy in front of you all day!”
“Well, he did seem to like me being his inner office secretary,” I muse. “Otherwise I’d be staring at three girls all better dressed and better looking than me.”
“Jesus,” Phil says. “What is he going for, a harem?”
“You know, you might not be wrong. I feel like he has this ‘look, don’t touch’ policy.”
Phil’s face lights up and I know he’s about to crack a joke.
“What?” I nudge him.
“Babe, the opposite of ‘look, don’t touch’ is ‘sexual harassment’. Sounds like he knows what’s good for him!”
I laugh. “Phil, you know as well as I do that if any man tried to lay a finger on me and I didn’t want that, he’d have to pick that finger up from all over the floor.”
“That’s right, I forgot, you’re some kind of martial arts queen,” Phil remarks.
The sort of lessons you learn from a household marked with a lot of domestic violence…
I shudder against my will and start shaking my head to dispel the memories. “Well, I guess I’m doing okay. He just strikes me as someone who’s more interesting than he’s letting on. Right now he seems to just go for this default, like, billionaire who throws money away on big business acquisitions, and nice cars, and helicopter rides with models. Oh my God, Phil, I took a helicopter today. Twice!”
“They don’t have helicopters in your neck of the woods?”
“They do,” I grin, “but I don’t typically get to ride in ‘em.”
Phil nods, making an impressed face. “Sounds like you’ve just been hired to work for some sort of Indiana Jones sort of guy, hanging out the door of a helicopter with his shirt off.”
The image he’s given me is just too silly to visualize — but I can definitely imagine Magnus revealing his broad, built chest, buttons scattering on the floor as his shirt explodes open, his lush salt-and-pepper hair looking wavy in the wind.
“I didn’t think starting a job like this would have necessarily been the best idea, especially after going through what you’ve gone through,” Phil notes, softening his tone. “But it sounds like it’s good for you. I’m real glad, girl.”
“Thank you, Phil. And you’re welcome, too.”
My roommate arches an eyebrow at me. “Whatever for?”
“Admit it, you love when I talk about hunky, muscular, sexy dudes. You’re living vicariously through me.”
“Nuh-uh, girlfriend,” Phil laughs. “I go to the gym. Like, two hours every day. A good gym, too. All the eye candy in the world there. I don’t n
eed your aloof billionaire. Wouldn’t say no to him being my sugar daddy though. How about you? Is that what you want?”
“A sugar daddy? God, no,” I laugh, sipping the last of my tea and stretching, as I start feeling exhausted. “I’d like… you know, something real. Genuine. A connection. Money’s just money. I want enough to get as far away as I can from home, and that’s all there is. The rest I’ll use to plant a garden, or something.”
Phil gives me an appreciating look. “You’re definitely a genuine person, Shaleigh. And you’re so strong, too. Let this rich guy come to appreciate that, and maybe he won’t be so aloof.”
Chapter Seven
The next day when I get to work, I discover with some surprise that there’s a big meeting table in the center of the inner office. It doesn’t quite match the minimalist look of the room, meaning that the huge surface of the desk, with its light-toned lacquer, is jarring. It doesn’t belong.
So, with the table in the periphery of my vision, I allow myself to work extensively on the usual morning tasks. There are emails to respond to, phone calls to book (apparently Magnus is taking them all day), and he’ll even make room for a meeting.
There’s no such accommodation for brunch today.
With Magnus only arriving just before noon, I spend most of my time looking at the screen or looking out the windows of the sliding door and wondering what the girls of the outer office are up to. I notice they tend to share their breaks, going out together. One girl carries a pack of cigarettes. I almost feel like I’m excluded from their club — both because of my position in the inner office as well as my status as a non-smoker.
Magnus comes in, wearing a striped suit. He looks like a high-powered attorney. For the first time since I’ve encountered him, he’s actually wearing a tie: usually he prefers the open-collar look. And I’m amused to note he’s wearing reading glasses.
“How are things, Shaleigh?” he asks as he settles to his desk. He eyes the meeting table in the middle of the room. “When did they install this?”
“Before I came in to work, Mr Boyd.” I answered.
“Huh. That’s fast. Would you kindly send a note to Finance that I want to give the contractors a bonus?” Magnus says. “Day looks nice. Shame we’re going to be busy in here all day. I’ll take calls all day. You’re allowed to route them to my business cell as well. I might spend a few hours today at the club.”
I quickly scroll through the list of places Magnus might likely be found — and don’t find a venue that seems to match the club. Not a country club, at least.
A golf club, maybe?
“Tennis,” Magnus helpfully explains, seeming to notice my furrowed brows. “I own the Winston tennis and squash courts. Good exercise. Do you play?”
“Not really,” I shake my head. “If you expand this list to soccer, then you’ve got a sport I play. I was the varsity soccer vice-captain. Made county level.”
“Where exactly was that?” Magnus asks, trying to make the question seem really casual — but I definitely know better. That was him fishing for details about me. I hide my smile behind my large screen.
“Just here and there. Nowhere interesting. A small town in the middle of nowhere, one I left.”
“A long time ago?”
“A lifetime ago,” I say, letting my vagueness speak for itself. “How about you, sir? Where did you come from?”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to read the corporate bios if you want a description of my early life. My grandfather started this company, he was a big oil baron in the ‘20s, and my father move into the same business. Started doing the Middle East trade early on, picked up a lot of big-time clients. Since I took over, we’ve mostly been focusing on… oh my God, just look at me go. I can practically see your eyes glaze over. You really don’t want to hear about my strategy of realigning Boyd Industries’ interests from shale oil extraction to energy consolidation, do you?”
My smile widens. “A sentence or two about the town you grew up in would have been nice,” I smile.
“I actually grew up in all the big financial capitals of the world. New York, London, Hong Kong, Singapore. A jaunt for a time in Saudi Arabia. No place like it. Both in a good and bad way,” Magnus notes. “I guess there’s no place I really call home.”
“And naturally you own a string of expensive properties all over the world,” I suggest. “Shuttling between them must feel like they’re really… temporary. That you don’t own them so much as you occupy them sometimes, whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“One would think I hired a fortune-teller instead of a secretary, Miss Williams,” he jokes, although there’s a hint of guardedness in his voice again. “I think I’ve established why I, ahem, like you more than the other secretaries.”
“You’ve hardly given them a chance,” I note, my gaze shooting over to the outer office before returning to Magnus.
“Well, yes, maybe,” he shrugs. “Anyway, did you want to know why?”
“Of course.”
He leans back in his seat, looking satisfied. “Because you don’t ask dumb questions. Asking questions can be an irritating habit by itself, but asking bad ones when you get a window to really connect… that’s not something I tolerate. Unfortunately, your lack of question-asking does not equate a lack of curiosity — it just means you point out insights and observations instead, and they have the effect of being twice as accurate. Potentially twice as irritating.”
I smile all through the criticism. “You did say you could hire the most beautiful and the best. I might not be the most beautiful, but I do think I’m the best.”
“More so than the girls outside, with their degrees from top universities? And I object to that, Shaleigh,” Magnus says. “You definitely qualify for the most beautiful too.”
I feel my face go hot as I register the words from him. He’s just so… hot and cold! One minute he can’t resist the flirting. The next, he’s punishing himself for it by hiding behind all these walls he’s built. I don’t quite know what he’s trying to get at here. Is he trying to just… confuse me?
Or is he confusing himself?
The truth is I take things day by day, with little in the way of long-term vision — so I don’t know what it is I want from him either. Just being around him feels nice. Being good at this job feels nice, too.
He stands up and beckons for me to join him as he steps towards the large, loft window behind his desk. “I’d like you to see something.”
Curious, I join him. When I get there, I see a commanding view of the whole city and the valley surrounding us, but I don’t see any one thing that catches my attention.
“What am I supposed to see?” I ask him.
“Not one specific thing, just… everything,” he answers. “I’m worth six billion dollars, according to the last estimate. In reality, give or take two more. Wealth at this level fluctuates a lot on a daily basis — you’d be surprised. But the point here is that I can buy everything in sight, with that sort of money. Maybe not outright, but with the money I have, I can just take loan after loan and handle that sort of financing forever. I could buy small countries with the money I personally have — and that’s not even touching any of Boyd Industry’s actual funds. Boyd can buy countries of its own. You don’t know it, sitting here in the CEO’s office, but we have fleets of ships. Oil tankers that ply the seas. We have private planes. My name is stamped on buildings, and on vehicles all over the globe. But money doesn’t buy freedom. You’re right. I’m chained to all of this. Chained to the sacrifices I make.”
“I understand,” I murmur.
“What I’m trying to say here is that I appreciate your understanding. You’re… different.”
“You’ve already said that you think we’d make a good team,” I remind him, adding a jokey edge to my observation. “You don’t have to be extra nice to me.”
“I’d like to, all the same,” Magnus says, his voice dropping to a whisper. His cologne is something s
imple — just a few notes of an oaky, sexy scent that isn’t overpowering, just incredibly appealing.
It’s hard for me to pull myself away from the physical closeness that’s taken place here. We’re not holding each other, not touching, not even looking at each other. We’re looking out the window together and yet I feel an incredible, unplaceable closeness.
There is a certain dominance to everything he does, and I find it absolutely enthralling.
An involuntary sigh escapes my lips, and Magnus says nothing about it — but his lips briefly, just briefly, curl up into a smile.
Kiss me, goddamn it, kiss me now, I want to tell him. I want him to take reason and logic and the dynamic of employer and employee away with the simple act of moving his hand to my waist, aligning my chin to his, and then meeting me halfway for a kiss.
Just from standing next to him, I find myself craving him. I want nothing more than to break through his walls.
And from the heat he’s exuding, despite the ventilation of the office, despite his tailored suit, despite the way he carries himself, chest first… I can sense his heat. He wants that too.
Never mind that the outer office can look right into the fishbowl of the inner office. Never mind that the sliding doors, all glass, would reveal everything. I don’t even dare let my eyes move to the corners of my vision, to see if anyone’s watching us. Of course they are.
“Um,” I say, practically stammering. Magnus, seemingly aware of everything I’ve been considering, shifts his weight to his left foot. There is something deliciously sexual about the way he just moves ever so slightly towards me, until the hem of his blazer touches my hip.
“They might be able to watch us,” Magnus whispers, “but they can’t tell what we’re saying. Isn’t that nice? We can say anything we want right now, and as long as our body language doesn’t betray our words… we’ve attained a rare moment of privacy.”
“You’ve been thinking about this,” I point out.
“When I’m around you, Shaleigh, it’s all I can think about.”
Black Gold Page 3
