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  “I understand,” he said, while at the same time he couldn’t help wondering how the obviously intelligent Natalia justified to herself the fact that she still didn’t have a seat on Investum’s board, that pretty much no women held important positions in any of the companies that Gustaf De la Grip ran. And that her father was known for his chauvinist statements about women in general and gender equality at the workplace in specific. Natalia’s love for her family made her blind.

  “So, what makes you one of J-O’s favorites?” he asked as their food arrived. He added, “Those are J-O’s own words. I’m just quoting him.”

  “Do you know him well?” she asked, placing her napkin in her lap and picking up her silverware. She ate with delicate, silent motions, setting down her utensils between each bite. Boarding school manners.

  “Well enough to trust his judgment,” he replied. J-O was one of the world’s most influential bankers, and they had collaborated several times. “Tell me more.”

  “Corporate finance is a job that relies a lot on the personal touch, as I’m sure you know, on relationships and building a sense of trust.” One of Natalia’s shoulders twitched. She set her silverware down again, her back totally straight, without fiddling with her place setting, her glass, or anything else. “I have a lot going for me.”

  “Yes, I can imagine,” he said, realizing with surprise that he was being genuine. There was something reliable about her, almost steadfast. If he weren’t too cynical to believe in such a thing, he would have said Natalia seemed like a good person.

  “And not just because of my last name,” she added, a faint pinkish hue flashing over her cheekbones, subtle as a brushstroke. “I’m good at what I do.”

  “I’m convinced of that.”

  Natalia narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re flattering me?”

  “Not at all. I’m just naturally charming,” he replied with a smile. He hadn’t expected her to be so appealing that he’d occasionally find himself forgetting her history and her name.

  She smiled. Even if this lunch was a waste of time, at least it was pleasant. She was good company and not a snob. Natalia piqued his curiosity. And, actually, he felt a little attracted to her, which was completely unexpected. Her dichotomy was downright sexy: all that cool paleness and at the same time passionate intensity.

  “You know,” she said, meticulously setting down her silverware yet again. “I know I should be grateful for my background—my family, my name, and all that. And I am; anything else would be arrogant. But sometimes I wish I didn’t have it all, that I’d done it on my own. I think there must be some satisfaction in accomplishing everything oneself.”

  “Yes, it is satisfying,” David said slowly, studying her expectantly. Not a single upper-class person—neither female nor male—had ever said something like that to him before. “You’re lucky you’re a woman, then,” he added. “At least you’ve had a bit of a handicap.”

  “Hmm.” She sat in silence, seeming to think.

  Few industries were as backward in terms of equality between the sexes as the elite financial sphere. The women were well-educated, but they disappeared as you moved up the ranks. Managing to rise to the kind of position Natalia held was evidence of extreme intelligence. And persistence.

  She raised her head and gave him a provocative look. “And what are Hammar Capital’s thoughts on gender-equality issues, if I might ask? You’re led by two men, right? The field of venture capital isn’t exactly known for its high percentage of women. So where do you stand on the issue?”

  “My position is exemplary,” he responded, picking up a new potato on his fork, salting it, and stuffing it into his mouth.

  “But what do you think about the fact that there are so few women serving on Swedish corporate boards?” she continued in a tone that told David she didn’t take the subject lightly. “Not to mention the operations side of things. How do things look there?”

  “Hammar Capital doesn’t hire people based on their sex but rather their expertise,” he said.

  Natalia scoffed, and David was forced to hide a small smile. When she was passionate about something, she apparently put her heart and soul into it. All her polite blandness was replaced by fire and passion.

  “If you do things based on quotas, you run the risk of hiring less-qualified people,” he continued, well aware that that argument ought to be like waving a red flag in front of a bull for anyone with a brain. “We hire based on skill.”

  It was like pouring fuel on a bonfire.

  “That is such bullshit,” Natalia said, the red patches on her cheeks growing. “Skill isn’t the deciding factor,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Not if people headhunt the same way they always have—through the same old-boy networks. And they get what they want, the same old men with the same old views. It has nothing to do with merit. That’s just window dressing.”

  “I’m not saying we don’t want good women,” he said. “But some say they’re hard to find.”

  “With attitudes like that I won’t be surprised if you go belly-up soon,” she said stiffly. She glanced down at her plate and added a muttered, “I hope so.”

  “We’re doing great,” he said. “We have . . .”

  “But don’t you see . . .” She was looking up again and started waving her hands around. When a woman who could presumably make it through a Nobel Prize banquet without committing a single breech of etiquette starts waving her silverware around, she’s got to be pretty worked up.

  “Natalia,” he interrupted. “You do know that I’m playing devil’s advocate, right?”

  She paused.

  “I’ve helped hire people for over twenty boards in the last year and a half,” he continued calmly. “Fifty-one percent of them are women. And exactly half of the chairmen of the board on boards hired by Hammar Capital are women.” He leaned back and watched her breathing calm down. Her chest was moving beneath her blouse. He glanced at her cleavage, at her pearls and pale skin. He flashed her a little smile, maybe the first genuine one he’d given her. He didn’t dislike her personally, just what she represented. “Recruiting people with the right expertise is a part of my company’s success,” he said slowly. “Hammar Capital weathered both the dot-com bubble and the financial crisis, and I’m completely confident that that had to do with the makeup of my staff.”

  She looked him in the eye, alertly, quietly, and he wondered what was going on beneath that cool exterior. He continued, “An integrated group comes up with different approaches, as I’m sure you know. They dare to say no and are willing to stick up for a divergent point of view. We rode out the crises, unlike many others, precisely because I have the most talented coworkers in the country—both women and men, recent immigrants and native-born Swedes.”

  Natalia blinked. Long, dark lashes shielded her view for a moment. “Okay,” she said calmly. A faint blush across her high cheekbones was all that was left.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, I let you get to me. That almost never happens.” She leaned in over the table. “Plus I feel like a hypocrite.”

  “How so?” he asked, allowing himself to be drawn in by the twinkle that lingered in her eye. She was flirting with him, maybe without even being aware of it. She wasn’t the flirty type, he’d bet his business on that. He permitted himself to play along for a bit. They would soon part ways—what did it matter?

  “I’m sitting here talking about gender equality and hiring policies,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “But I know I’ve had huge advantages simply because of my name and my background. I know it and it embarrasses me.” She leaned even farther over the table and lowered her voice, as if she were divulging a big secret. “The fact is that I used my name just the other day. I hate it when people do that.”

  “And you did it anyway?”

  She nodded and looked so guilty that the corner of David’s mouth twitched. “How did it go?” he asked.

  She eyed him f
or a bit, her eyes twinkling. “Not very well,” she stated dryly.

  “What did you do?” he asked, curious despite himself.

  “There wasn’t even any call for name dropping. I assume you know who Sarah Harvey is?”

  David nodded when he heard the name of the woman considered to be one of the best sopranos in the world, with a uniquely clear voice and a tremendous range. He knew who she was and also which circles she traveled in. “What does she have to do with any of this?” he asked.

  “She never does tours, but she’s coming to Europe this month and is going to give one concert in all of Scandinavia, here in Stockholm. I’ve idolized her ever since I was a child and really wanted to go.”

  “Are you saying that you couldn’t get a ticket even though you’re a De la Grip?”

  “Thanks for taking the time to rub salt in my wounds. No, I couldn’t, and it still stings. The arrangers weren’t impressed by me in the least.”

  “Did you try bribing them?”

  She jutted out her chin. “Maybe.”

  “Swedes aren’t that easy to bribe, if that’s any consolation,” David said, not entirely truthfully. Anyone could be bribed; it was merely a question of offering the right amount.

  “I guess,” she said. “I’m a quarter Russian. The Russians, now they’re easier to bribe.”

  “A lot easier,” David agreed. He stretched out his legs and leaned back. This lunch had already given him the information he wanted. The smart thing to do now would be to release Natalia De la Grip and move on. She wasn’t critical to closing the deal. They didn’t need to see each other again. His goal was to destroy her family. He ought to focus on the next step. That would be the smart thing to do. He watched her long fingers as she absentmindedly stroked the side of her glass. She’d taken off her jacket and was wearing a simple, sleeveless blouse underneath. She had beautiful lines, tall and strong. The pictures he’d seen of her had been mostly forgettable, but now he remembered one photo from some evening event, a dinner or a ball at the Villa Pauli Club. Her hair had been up in the same tight bun, but she wore a long red evening gown, and she looked amazing. Strong, powerful. And he convinced himself that he didn’t always need to be in such a hurry, that he could sit for another ten minutes with this woman, who really wasn’t behaving the way he’d expected.

  Natalia noticed David watching her. She wondered what he was thinking as those blue-gray eyes took her in. He hadn’t meant for her to notice him checking her out, of course, but she was good at reading people and could tell he was trying to size her up. He was very smooth. When they spoke he gave her his full attention in a way that was completely unsettling. He looked good, attractive in a grown-up, manly way. There was nothing boyish here, just broad-shouldered, full-grown masculinity. Dark, well-cut hair, eyes that were somewhere between blue and gray, chiseled features. Handsome as the devil. He was also charming, polite, and sometimes funny, basically your perfect lunch date.

  And yet . . .

  Every now and then she caught a glimmer of something in his eyes, something she wasn’t meant to see, something hard and cold, which put her on her guard and made her hesitant. David Hammar was a person known for crushing companies and people, a ruthless businessman. Under one picture of him in a business paper the caption had described him as “an ice-cold businessman devoid of pretension.” Something warned her not to be seduced by his easygoing charm and intelligent eyes. He was playing some kind of game, she was sure of that. But what?

  Secrets, so many secrets.

  “What?” he asked with a half laugh, and now there was no frostiness at all. No hardness, no ruthlessness, just attentiveness. As if she were the most interesting person in the world. This must be how he had achieved his almost implausible success. David Hammar saw people. He made them feel special, won their trust. And then he devoured them, flesh, bone, and everything in between.

  “Are you planning to take over any unsuspecting companies in the near future?” she asked.

  “Of course I am,” he replied. “That’s what I do. A venture capitalist never sleeps.” His eyes twinkled, and Natalia lost her train of thought. Oh my, that laugh.

  Most of the men Natalia worked with, including her father, older brother, and boss, followed the unspoken rules and invisible guidelines that applied to the elite financial world. They were all cast from the same mold. Conforming and often completely devoid of humor, they were all too preoccupied with trying to outdo one another to socialize comfortably, especially with women. But David was completely different, a trailblazing visionary if you could believe his admirers, an unrelenting looter if you listened to his critics. Either way, he was terribly successful, a modern pirate in a custom suit.

  And yet . . .

  David Hammar hadn’t tried to impress her even once. He hadn’t bragged or dominated. When they shook hands, his grasp was firm but not unnecessarily hard, as if he was confident of his strength and didn’t need to show it off. Talking to him, she realized he made most of the men she met seem hesitant, maniacally domineering, impatient to demonstrate their strength, and not always respectful toward women, to put it diplomatically.

  “How did you end up getting into this line of work?” she asked curiously. He seemed like a man who could have been successful at just about anything.

  “If you want to become very rich very fast, this is the way. As I’m sure you know.”

  Natalia nodded. No one could become as rich as a skilled venture capitalist. “And that’s what you wanted? To be rich?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has it gone well?” She knew the answer, of course, but she wanted to hear what he would say when given the opportunity to brag.

  He studied her for a moment. “Satisfaction is elusive,” he said slowly, as if they were discussing something important, not just shooting the breeze. “Strange, isn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s the most basic human motivator. For good or ill.”

  “Is that how you feel too?”

  “I guess,” she replied, because she recognized the desire in herself, to get ahead, to succeed.

  “What?” He leaned forward and studied her attentively. He read her so fast it was frightening.

  “Nothing. This has been a very pleasant lunch. I thought you would be more . . .” Her voice faded away.

  “Gangster-like? Unscrupulous?”

  She laughed. “Maybe.”

  “The thing is, I like to see results,” David said. “A lot of Swedish companies are unbelievably poorly run. Their CEOs and boards are lining their own pockets at their shareholders’ expense.” He crossed his long legs and ran a hand through his short brown hair. She noted the stainless-steel watch. Patek Philippe, expensive but not garish.

  “You have no idea how much shit we see,” he continued. “But when Hammar Capital goes into a board, we aim to make it more efficient and improve the company. And then the shareholders make money, not someone else.”

  “Surely you make a little as well,” Natalia pointed out dryly. Hammar Capital was valued at close to an unbelievable four billion euros. Not bad, considering he’d built it himself from the ground up. And he was young, not even thirty-five if you could believe the Internet.

  “That too, of course,” he laughed. “Our business is to be controversial. Would you like some coffee?”

  She nodded, and he ordered two. The waitress quickly returned with two cups.

  Natalia fingered the chocolate on her saucer. She meant what she’d said earlier—she admired people who created something of their own. There were so many people who were born with everything and then messed it up.

  David nodded at her chocolate. “You’re not going to eat that?”

  She handed it to him, watched him open the thin foil wrapper. “You travel abroad a lot. How does that work?” she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the only one who did my research, huh? That’s true. I travel the world hunting down financiers. My partner Michel and I b
oth do.”

  Michel Chamoun. Lebanese, with degrees in finance and law. Yes, she’d done her research; she was always thorough. “But aren’t you needed here at home?” she asked.

  “I have very talented coworkers.”

  “Women and immigrants?”

  “Among others.”

  Despite the casual small talk, despite the charm that was sometimes difficult to defend against, Natalia couldn’t help but think that there was something that didn’t add up. What did this super-attractive man with the hard eyes want with her? What was David Hammar actually after in inviting her to a “no-strings-attached” lunch? And what did that phrase even mean? Here he was asking her seemingly random follow-up questions and flattering her with his attention. Natalia glanced at her watch and thought it must be wrong. She furrowed her brow and saw David tilt his own wrist and check his watch.

  He straightened. “How can it be that late?”

  “I know. I have to get back to the office,” she said.

  “I had no idea so much time had passed. I’m sorry I’ve kept you,” he said, gesturing for the check.

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “But I have a Skype meeting with London that I have to prep for.”

  He handed the server his credit card.

  “Should I have them call you a cab?”

  “No, I’m walking,” she said, standing and picking up her handbag.

  “I’ll join you.” He stood as well, and pulled her chair back for her.

  “Oh, maybe we’d better not,” she said apologetically. He was crazy attractive, there was no doubt about that. But she’d done her research. Hammar Capital had gone up against Investum a couple of times in the last few years, and HC had lost both times. She’d mentioned Investum twice today, and both times something had glimmered in his eyes. It was scarcely noticeable, and she would have missed it if she hadn’t been studying him so carefully. But she’d seen a coldness that no amount of charm in the world could smooth over, and in many ways she was Investum. David Hammar had a bone to pick with her family’s company. People said that nothing in the financial world was personal, that money controlled everything. But that was nonsense. A lot of other things always followed in the wake of the money: feelings and impulses, wounded egos and the desire for revenge. So the question was: did David Hammar have some hidden agenda in asking her out?