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.A princess from Liechtenstein, a Gräfin from Pomerania, an Italian contessa.Her posture was immaculate, her step light, yet directed.When she walked it was for the audience she’d grown used to long ago.And it was the coupling of patrician bearing with her commoner’s unpretentious personality that he found so attractive.It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.Cate Magnus was the class Jett Gavallan never had.She’d worked as a reporter at the Financial Journal for as long as he’d known her, writing a weekly piece for the paper she called “Gold Rush.” Every Friday, she filled twelve column inches on the front page of the Journal’s second section with offbeat, funny, and often poignant stories about the ins and outs of surviving in the capitals of the new economy: Silicon Valley, Seattle, Austin, and the few city blocks in Manhattan someone had baptized “Silicon Alley.” Her subjects ranged from how the skyrocketing price of real estate was making millionaires out of middle-class home owners to the social etiquette of pink-slip parties to the personal peccadilloes of the new and obscenely rich.The rise and fall of Black Jet Securities would make perfect fodder for her column.“Speaking of fires, I had an interesting call this afternoon,” he said, allowing himself to move a few inches closer to her.“Between you and me, everything the Private Eye-PO has said is bullshit.Complete and utter garbage.” He went on to explain about the receipts, his conversation that morning with Jean-Jacques Pillonel, and Konstantin Kirov’s personal guarantee that everything was “up and running” in Moscow.“Kirov himself told you? Well then, I guess you don’t have to worry at all.”“Don’t start about Kirov.Please, Cate.Not tonight.”“All I said was that you shouldn’t trust him.He’s an oligarch, for Christ’s sake.How do you think he got where he is?”“He is a businessman, and a damned good one.Neither of us has any idea of the conditions he has to work under over there.I’m not saying he’s a saint, but Mercury speaks for itself.It’s a gem.”“It sure does.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”“It means he’s ruthless and conniving, and maybe even a little more than that.He’s a good businessman all right.If that’s what you call it.”“Cate!”Her eyes flashed, and he could feel her straining to rein in her temper.“Okay,” she conceded.“You win.Just be careful.Word is you’re risking a lot on this deal.”“Whose word is that?”“Everyone’s.No one’s.You know how it is.The street’s got wind you’re putting a lot on the Mercury deal.I just was curious if the rumors are true.”It was Gavallan’s turn to shrug.But looking at her, at her lustrous black hair, her keen eyes, her pale, pillowed lips, he had a sudden desire to tell her everything.A need even.Whether she knew it or not, he valued her counsel more than that of any of his colleagues at Black Jet.She was smart.She was well-informed.She was discreet.They’d been together over two years, and though privy to his every insider secret, she’d never once abused his trust.Cate who was trustworthy.Cate who was loyal.Cate who was the most sensuous lover he’d known.Unable to restrain himself, he ran a hand across her cheek and let it glide through her hair.“I miss you.”“Jett, no,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering.It was a plea, a denial, a memory.“Come on,” he said.“Let’s dance.” And before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and led her to the parquet floor.Continuing its tribute to “Old Blue Eyes,” the orchestra launched into “A Foggy Day.” Gavallan drew her closer.In seconds, their hands had found familiar places, their bodies secret havens.“So what do you want to know?” he asked.Cate looked taken aback.“You’re serious?”“Have I ever kept anything from you?”“That was when we were.That was before,” she said.Before.He hated the word.“You will, however, have to recite the sacred oath.”“Oh, Jett, come on.”“Sorry.You know it’s important to me.I am an Eagle Scout, you’ll remember.The oath, please.”Cate looked uncertainly to her left and right, then raised her right hand to her shoulder, arranging the fingers in a familiar salute [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.A princess from Liechtenstein, a Gräfin from Pomerania, an Italian contessa.Her posture was immaculate, her step light, yet directed.When she walked it was for the audience she’d grown used to long ago.And it was the coupling of patrician bearing with her commoner’s unpretentious personality that he found so attractive.It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.Cate Magnus was the class Jett Gavallan never had.She’d worked as a reporter at the Financial Journal for as long as he’d known her, writing a weekly piece for the paper she called “Gold Rush.” Every Friday, she filled twelve column inches on the front page of the Journal’s second section with offbeat, funny, and often poignant stories about the ins and outs of surviving in the capitals of the new economy: Silicon Valley, Seattle, Austin, and the few city blocks in Manhattan someone had baptized “Silicon Alley.” Her subjects ranged from how the skyrocketing price of real estate was making millionaires out of middle-class home owners to the social etiquette of pink-slip parties to the personal peccadilloes of the new and obscenely rich.The rise and fall of Black Jet Securities would make perfect fodder for her column.“Speaking of fires, I had an interesting call this afternoon,” he said, allowing himself to move a few inches closer to her.“Between you and me, everything the Private Eye-PO has said is bullshit.Complete and utter garbage.” He went on to explain about the receipts, his conversation that morning with Jean-Jacques Pillonel, and Konstantin Kirov’s personal guarantee that everything was “up and running” in Moscow.“Kirov himself told you? Well then, I guess you don’t have to worry at all.”“Don’t start about Kirov.Please, Cate.Not tonight.”“All I said was that you shouldn’t trust him.He’s an oligarch, for Christ’s sake.How do you think he got where he is?”“He is a businessman, and a damned good one.Neither of us has any idea of the conditions he has to work under over there.I’m not saying he’s a saint, but Mercury speaks for itself.It’s a gem.”“It sure does.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”“It means he’s ruthless and conniving, and maybe even a little more than that.He’s a good businessman all right.If that’s what you call it.”“Cate!”Her eyes flashed, and he could feel her straining to rein in her temper.“Okay,” she conceded.“You win.Just be careful.Word is you’re risking a lot on this deal.”“Whose word is that?”“Everyone’s.No one’s.You know how it is.The street’s got wind you’re putting a lot on the Mercury deal.I just was curious if the rumors are true.”It was Gavallan’s turn to shrug.But looking at her, at her lustrous black hair, her keen eyes, her pale, pillowed lips, he had a sudden desire to tell her everything.A need even.Whether she knew it or not, he valued her counsel more than that of any of his colleagues at Black Jet.She was smart.She was well-informed.She was discreet.They’d been together over two years, and though privy to his every insider secret, she’d never once abused his trust.Cate who was trustworthy.Cate who was loyal.Cate who was the most sensuous lover he’d known.Unable to restrain himself, he ran a hand across her cheek and let it glide through her hair.“I miss you.”“Jett, no,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering.It was a plea, a denial, a memory.“Come on,” he said.“Let’s dance.” And before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and led her to the parquet floor.Continuing its tribute to “Old Blue Eyes,” the orchestra launched into “A Foggy Day.” Gavallan drew her closer.In seconds, their hands had found familiar places, their bodies secret havens.“So what do you want to know?” he asked.Cate looked taken aback.“You’re serious?”“Have I ever kept anything from you?”“That was when we were.That was before,” she said.Before.He hated the word.“You will, however, have to recite the sacred oath.”“Oh, Jett, come on.”“Sorry.You know it’s important to me.I am an Eagle Scout, you’ll remember.The oath, please.”Cate looked uncertainly to her left and right, then raised her right hand to her shoulder, arranging the fingers in a familiar salute [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]