Page 8 of My Lord
Sunday morning came and I sat in my kitchen with the financial papers spread over the table. I read an article about Mackenzie who had attended a dinner with the Prime Minister. It appeared she was keen to have him on board as some sort of business ambassador. The UK wanted American investments and trade deals, maybe she thought he could be a great intermediary. Gabriella was beside him and had her hair pinned with tendrils just caressing the side of her face. She wore a diamond choker style necklace on her elegant neck, and I wondered if she was from money; not that I really cared.
The slinky silver dress that she wore showed off her thin waist and slightly rounded hips. The neckline plunged to near her navel. I wet my lips and then shook my head.
“Get a grip, Alex,” I said to myself.
I couldn’t remember the last time I lusted after someone as much; in fact, I don’t think I’d ever done so. There was somethingsiren likeabout her. A need for her crept over me. A want that I hadn’t experienced before. I grabbed my laptop and researched. I couldn’t find anything to suggest that she and Mackenzie were partners. In all the articles I found, she ran his UK operations on a day-to-day basis while he went back and forth. There was an interview that confirmed they had known each other from childhood, and I was very impressed with one or two of the, obviously female, interviewer’s questions.
She had asked why Mackenzie deliberately chose women over men. Gabriella had responded that he employed the best person for the job and sex didn’t come into it. He had simply found that the women he had employed had been far better than their male counterparts. It was suggested that he embraced women, and that perhaps he liked to empower them. Gabriella had shrugged her shoulders in response, according to the interviewer.
I got the vibe from our lunch that Mackenzie wasn’t like a lot of businessmen who were, in actual fact, threatened by successful women. They didn’t seem to do well in the workplace because men didn’t allow them to. As old fashioned as it seemed to me, men put up the barriers and as much as women fought for equality, in the city, in the money markets especially, they had a long way to go before they were on equal footing. It had saddened me. I remembered Alice, an amazing trader that I’d met. She had lasted a couple of years before she quit not being able to stand the abuse, constant sexual innuendos, and inequality in pay. I folded my papers, the news did nothing but depress me of late.
For the third time, I read through the contract, studying it, analysing it, and then scanning and emailing a copy to my family’s lawyer. Even though it was a Sunday, George rarely had anything to do other than work. It wasn’t even an hour later that he replied with some points to consider and in capitals wrote:
THERE DOESN’T APPEAR TO BE A CATCH, WHICH COULD BE THE CATCH. YOU’D BE MAD NOT TO TAKE UP THIS OFFER.
In addition to running his business, Mackenzie was allowing me one day a week to use his facilities and continue to runmybusiness, should I wish to. I knew next to nothing about communications and even less about military contracts, so to keep that one day, in case I should decide Mackenzie’s company wasn’t for me, was a wise idea.
I picked up the business card attached to the summary. Instead of Mackenzie’s details, I noticed Gabriella’s.
I reached for my phone and dialled.
“Hello?” I heard in a delightful southern drawl.
“Hi, I’m sorry to call on a Sunday—”
“Alex, it’s good to hear from you, even on a Sunday,” she said, cutting me off.
A pang of want formed in my stomach at the sound of her voice. “I’ve been through your very generous contract, run it past my lawyer, and I’d like to discuss it further.”
“I’m delighted to hear that, Alex. Perhaps we should meet. Would you like to schedule now?”
A thought ran through my mind and I shut it down super quick. I knew what I’d like to schedule to do. I coughed to clear my throat.
“Do I make you nervous, Alex?” she asked, and that threw me for a loop.
“No, I…” She laughed so softly I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I fought to gather my composure. I sat upright and forced my voice to be stern. “No, Gabriella, you don’t make me nervous. Yes, I’d like to schedule a meeting now.”
“Now?” Gabriella asked.
“Huh?”
“How about now? You can take me to dinner, Alex.”
I don’t think, in all my adult years, a woman had asked me to take her to dinner. No, notasked, butdemandedby her tone of voice.
Determined to stay business-like I said, “Fine. Please text me your address, I’ll collect you at, say, seven?”
“Seven is just fine. Gives me plenty of time to fix my hair.”
I relaxed into my chair. “I don’t know what to say,” I said, and then chuckled.
“I like you Alex, I think you like me, and I’d like for us to have dinner.” Her voice was soft, and her words strung out. “And I’d like for you to collect me. I’m not a feminist, I also expect you to pay.”
Just the tone of her voice made me laugh, and had we been face to face, I was sure she might have added a wink.
“My lady, I wouldn’t dream of letting you pay,” I said. I then cut off the call.
It wasn’t that I was being rude, but I wanted control, I wanted her coming to me, not the other way round. It had been a conversation of push and pull for sure. I smiled and nodded as the ping of my phone showed up her address and a heart emoji. She was going to be a challenge; I had no doubt.
