Page 16 of Analysing Her Assets

“Coming to Peaks was the result of a whim. I moved from my pre-destined path,” Gideon told her, surprising himself.

“I like my pre-destined path,” Tamar said, her eyes dancing at him. “You’re treading on it right now, by the way. I wouldn’t mind if you went some other path.”

He laughed.

“Your project sounds like a total bore,” she added.

He grinned at her, not fooled for a minute. “It does, right?” It was a good idea, and she was probably beating herself up for not thinking of it herself.

“Well, got to go to the brokerage.”

“Now?” He didn’t like the predatory way Danny had talked about her. Now she would work closely with this jerk.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Tamar teased, and their truce was over.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said and pushed his chair backwards, scraping the floor and hitting the wall behind him. He walked out of the meeting room, angry with himself, and angry with her because she had read him so accurately. Inexplicably, stupidly, he was, indeed, jealous.

11. Tamar

The 28th floor was divided between provident funds’ investment management on the right of the elevators, and the brokerage trading floor on the left. Tamar’s employee card opened the logo emblazoned main entrance with no problem.

The trading area was a vast open space, which was farther enclosed with thick glass walls. Long rows of adjoined desks had a multitude of computer screens, as many as four screens mounted next and on top of each other per workstation.

When Tamar tried to pass her card on the inner security door, it didn’t work.

Fuck.

There were dozens of traders, most of them men, all of them on their phones. She located Danny in a classic trader pose standing at his station with a landline phone clutched between his ear and his shoulder, speaking to another trader above the partition.

Not having a project when Gideon came up with that brilliant idea of his wasn’t an option. Kissing ass to Danny Golan was a must.

She took a deep breath. Rule Number Two of the workplace: ‘Never show weakness.’

She thumped on the glass to get his attention. A few of his colleagues noticed her. She pointed at him. They smiled wolfishly and got Danny to see her. She waved, gestured if he could open the door for her.

Danny’s blue eyes met hers and he smoothed back his dark hair. He replaced the phone and, smiling slightly, he walked towards the entrance in bold, long strides. A loud electronic click sounded, and the door opened. A shrill buzz assaulted her ears: shouted trading orders, ringing telephones, keyboards clicking. Danny closed the doors behind him, shutting down the noise.

“Hi Feynman. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He was impatient but intrigued, and he was still smiling.

“To your good looks,” Tamar answered and immediately realized her mistake. Danny Golan wasn’t Keynan. The blue eyes narrowed, the full-lipped mouth pulled in disdain. He was a large guy, so he naturally towered, but now he rolled back his shoulders, so he positively loomed. This was a workday, his demeanor told her. Don’t jerk me around. Before he could turn away, she blurted, “Wait, Danny, wait! Here’s the deal. I think you can help me, and I am positive I can help you. Give me five minutes of your time. Please.”

She held the blue stare unflinchingly. His eyes flicked all over her appearance. Her shirt was buttoned almost all the way up, her jacket was fastened. The “well-endowed” comment rang in her mind, but she didn’t yield to the instinct of hunching her shoulders. After a tense moment, Danny nodded curtly and led her around the enclosed trading floor into an adjacent meeting room.

A cabinet on the side held a tray with a thermos, tea bags, and coffee powders. Danny stood with his back to her and busied himself with making coffee. He didn’t offer her any. Through the glass partition, the trading room’s frenzy unfolded, hand waving and shouted conversations, all in pantomime mode.

With his back still to her, Danny said, “Five minutes, Feynman, shoot.”

Tamar had no option but to trust his discretion. She spoke to his broad back.

“I’m telling you a secret. I’m running for the chief analyst job, and...”

He turned.

“No, shit! N is leaving?”

“Yes. Please don’t tell anyone until Nathanela announces it next week. I want to win this position by bettering Research’s services to the brokerage. I heard that you guys have problems with our recommendations system. I want to help you.”

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