Attraction (Love & War, Part I) (4 page)

The truth was
she wasn't lonely without Will, in fact she didn't miss him at all.
A month previously, at the end of his last period of leave, they'd
come to the mutual decision that they were breaking it off
permanently. They'd outgrown each other. She'd met him at
Cambridge, eight years ago. He had his life planned out and she had
hers and they were different people now. They'd had several breaks
from each other over the years. Inevitably, they'd always ended up
getting together again, almost habitually. In the past it had
suited them both, the ways things were. But over the last year,
what they had didn't seem enough. They were more like brother and
sister than a couple. She'd never strayed in all the time they'd
been together, she was the faithful type.

But now she
was free, to do whatever she wanted. And Greg, for one, could stay
permanently ignorant of that fact, because she wasn't interested in
him in the slightest. She was looking forward to some casual dates.
That was all she planned in her love life for the next few years. A
little hot and sexy fun. Or maybe even a lot of sexy fun. Here,
there and everywhere, like her friends Theresa and Mary. They had a
hell of a lot of fun in that respect.

Nicole had
already found the big love of her life. And that was her job. No
man was coming between her and what she loved to do and where she
wanted to go. But uncommitted sex could fit in just about anywhere
there was gap.

She returned
to her desk and noticed James had left the office. She opened a new
word document on her computer and added in everything Greg told her
in a neat list. She switched tabs to the internet and did some
research. She found plenty on Gateway Investment Group, which she
added in the word file, but on a personal level there was nothing
at all. Unless he used another name, he seemed to be invisible.
Someone of his wealth, ranking and stature should warrant a mention
somewhere, surely? She searched the social hangouts one by one.
Facebook, Twitter, Linked In, Wikipedia and a few online business
and mens' magazines looking for various versions of his name. All
she got was Bill Gates, Bill Gates... No Ashton Gates anywhere.
There were some people by that name, but they were not him, for
sure. She looked at OK and Hello magazines, the celebrity hangouts,
and found one small mention of him attending a film premiere two
months ago. She was disappointed with the hazy photo, with his face
turned away from camera. He was accompanied by a voluptuous blonde
by the name of Christa-Jane Welby, a well known Chelsea-born
socialite turned fashion model. She tried some more general Google
searches before she gave up. She guessed he liked to keep a low
profile. A non existent profile. She tidied the information up and
saved the file. No sign of James returning so she sent him an quick
email, which she knew he'd pick up on his phone.

As she sat
patiently waiting for a reply, she ran through the French legal
manual she had to hand, examining the commonly used terms, to
reassure herself she knew them all. She plucked a racy French novel
from her shelf, she could read a chapter of that on the plane.
Reading in French brought her up to conversational speed in a
flash, because she switched to thinking in French naturally.

The reply from
James dropped into her mailbox with a bleep and she clicked on
it.

“
Got a file, in my side drawer, look under G.”

She sent him a
thank you email, got up and approached his desk space, looking
through the drawers and the neatly labelled, lime green files.

She drew out
the bulging GIG/Gates file with growing interest and returned to
her desk to read it.

The file was
divided into named contract sections. The first few pages were all
about the incorporation of his company, which she planned to read
later. The second section was more personal, labelled Ashton
Michael Gates and contained one sheet of paper. She wanted to know
all about the man behind the company first. There was an absence of
a photo, which would have been nice.

A few lines
into her reading and she was staggered at the profile James had
built up. It was like a physical and psychological evaluation. She
was wondering why the hell he had gone to this level of detail as
her eyes flew across the lines, absorbing the words like a
sponge.

DOB: - 02
January 1983, Worcester, son of Charles Ashton Gates, American, and
Lady Larissa March Williams, daughter of the Marchioness of
Oxfordshire.

EDUCATION:-
Eton/ Oxford/ First class business degree/

PERSONAL
ATTRIBUTES:- height in excess of 6ft, muscular build, dark brown
hair, grey-blue eyes.

Mmm, he seems
to have a lot of pluses on his side, does Mr Gates...

She read
on...

PERSONALITY:-
highly confident, unnerved under challenge, perfect speech patterns
and pronunciation, forthright, unyielding, exceptionally tough in
the bargaining arena, well prepared, intuitive, highly intelligent,
laser fast reactions, VERY manipulative.

And so the
list went on. Her eyes started to glaze over with his ultimate
maleness.

How could
anyone be so...errr...

But she
couldn't think of the words for him.

Her gaze
slipped further down... to the end.

Supremely
dominant character.

Yes, that just
about summed him up.

James finished
his Gates profile with a fun sentence which made her smile.

MR BLOODY HARD
WORK :(

She'd have to
make sure she bought James a drink too. This was so helpful. She
sent him another email.

-I feel I know Mr Gates already... And how wonderful he
sounds :) You take '
know your client
' to a whole new level!

She humorously
referred to the money laundering phrase, which was indelibly
printed on her brain, after having recently completed the annual
course and test.

Nicole
summarised her findings mentally with a small smile hovering upon
her lips.

So...my new
client is an exceptionally good looking, highly intelligent,
completely loaded, triple A starred, alpha male. That's no big
deal. A walk in the park.

S
he couldn't wait to meet him, to
stare into his penetrating, grey, unblinking eyes and shake his
bone crushing hand. Hopefully she wouldn't pass out with the excess
of testosterone in the air around him.

Despite her
blasé, humorous attitude, she wasn't convincing herself. She began
to feel anxiety creeping in fast. She'd unwittingly elevated him to
superman status. He'd become a harsh, god-like creature in her
imagination. It might have been better not to have known all this
and just flown in blindly, dealing with whatever she discovered
along the way, a piece at a time. Breezing into his world in her
own feminine style, in a cloud of Coco Channel, happily oblivious.
Her stomach churned with nerves. He probably ate small female
lawyers, like her, for a snack.

Little law
girl on toast.

She blew out a
noisy stream of breath.

Whatever will
be, will be. If he eats me alive, I'll kick him in the stomach on
the way down.

She pulled
herself together, flicked over the page and got on with reading
about the company, its beginnings, its current portfolio and focus,
and then the blow by blow, anally painful and boring account of
every conversation James had ever had with him.

A reply from
James arrived.

- I do it for
all my clients, so anyone else taking over from me, knows exactly
what to expect.

Something
churned in her stomach.

I'm getting
bad thoughts here. He's so incredibly thorough and far too
conscientious.

She was so
glad to have discovered this highly threatening, quietly unassuming
competition, occupying the desk just twenty feet from hers. She'd
have to watch out for James Millsom, and make sure she did her very
best work to date, he could very easily pip her to the post, and
take Jacob's position, and that would certainly knock her career
plan sideways.

Oh no... that
wouldn't do... not at all.

She might just
take a leaf out of his book and start to do these little client
resume profiles herself, and do it far better, of course. Far more
thoroughly and far more neatly.

Nicole craved
success in her career. She wanted to do well for herself, make her
parents so proud, and to support a worthy cause... that of the
career woman... the great sisterhood of females striving for
recognition. She was going to force her way through the glass
ceiling, that was no doubt hanging above her, and get on the board
of directors.

And very
frankly, she was prepared to work her damn butt and tits off to get
there.

She returned
from buying her sandwich for lunch, and got on with a hiccup in a
new client's corporate registration, while she ate it. She was
feeling rather fucked off, to put it bluntly.

I wish they'd
leave the form filling to me instead of trying to be helpful.

They things
they wrote in those official and important little boxes made her
cry with frustration at times, because she had to sort the mess out
afterwards. It was two o'clock when she finished that and made a
quick trip to the bathroom to attend to her appearance.

She stood
looking in the mirror, studying herself critically. There were a
few loose tendrils which had escaped from her bun. She pinned them
back and sprayed with a good dose of spray. Nicole kept her looks
very understated at work. Her very long light brown hair was always
tied back or pinned up. Her suits and blouses, were all modest in
design. She loved wearing make up but only wore a tiny amount in
the office. Polished, but natural and professional, was the look
she aimed for.

Her nose was a
little shiny so she powdered it away, smoothing the pad around her
face to restore her dewy, glowing complexion. She was rather proud
of her skin. It was completely flawless. Deciding on a pinky beige
lipstick, which she knew blended in well with her skin tone, she
slicked some on her lips. A quick respray of Coco de Chanel, and
she was done. A final look at her finished self, satisfied her that
she would do, and after smoothing her navy blue skirt suit in front
of the full length mirror by the door, she left.

She was
growing nervous about the assignment. She wondered what Gates would
think of her. She knew she was attractive to look at. Greg and a
few other guys in the office seem to think so.

She pulled
herself up sharp.

Actually, it
doesn't matter what he thinks of me, does it?

She never gave
a thought to what her clients thought about her looks. She was only
interested in what they thought of her ability and in doing her
best for them. That should be good enough. That was what they're
paying for and that was all that mattered. Gates was just another
client, like all the rest.

She was
standing downstairs in the foyer having a quick chat with hungover
Laura, their young receptionist, about her excessive clubbing
exploits, when the black Mercedes pulled up. After saying goodbye
to bleary eyed Laura, she made her way outside as the tall,
unexpectedly handsome and well dressed driver came up the front
steps to meet her.

Well, he's
hot!

“
Miss Wright?” he asked pleasantly.

“
That's me.”

“
I'm Adrian Quilter, Mr Gates aide.”

“
Pleased to meet you Adrian, I'm Nicole.” Her eyes met his
twinkling blue ones and an inner sigh rushed through her. She
offered him her hand and a warm smile and he shook it firmly,
smiling back at her.

What lovely
eyes, and that smile could melt stone.

His mid brown
tightly cropped hair suited him and his five o'clock shadow suited
him even better, giving him a distinguished look. He was a very
sexy early thirties, she guessed. And from what she could see,
within the constraints of his smart, well fitting suit, looking
after his body was something he took very seriously. This man was
fit. Broad shoulders, and a lovely flat stomach. Not the vaguest
hint of anything spreading there. Unlike Jacob, who she guessed,
wasn't that much older, and who was already spreading everywhere.
She imagined Adrian would have some good abdominal definition. That
was something she'd like to see. In fact she'd like to see all of
him.

“
If you'd like to take a seat and belt yourself in, Miss.” He
opened the door for her and she slid in and busied herself with the
seatbelt. He closed the door with a soft click and she sat back
quietly absorbing the feel of the luxurious black leather
upholstery and smoky glass windows. There was a subtle fresh and
very male fragrance lingering inside that set her sense of smell
zinging appreciatively. She wondered if it was Gates or Adrian's
cologne that was giving her the little buzz she had going on.
Adrian adjusted his rear view mirror, just a fraction, so his eyes
captured hers, before he set off down the road.

“
Been working for Clarkson's long, have you?”

“
Nearly four years. I worked for Andersen's
before.”

“
I've heard of them. That's a big name. Why did you
leave?”

“
Small fish in a big pond syndrome. Clarkson's are UK
corporate specialists and this job has far better prospects. Plus I
get more chance of client contact and interaction. I like to be
very hands on in my work.”

“
Really?” he chuckled.

“
Why is that so amusing?” she asked with a smile, holding his
gaze in the mirror.

“
I'm sure Mr Gates will appreciate your hands on approach, I
know I would.”