in time to see the bodyguard slam the door shut. I can hear the deadbolt clank. We aren’t getting back in there tonight. ‘I swear to you, Geri, we’ll get that tape. No one fucks me about like this.’
Maybe I’ve spoken too soon. Maybe I’m in over my head. All I need is for that video to end up on YouTube and life as I know it is over. I can already see the headline: Investment Banker by Day, Stripper by Night. I’ve worked too hard to climb the corporate ladder and tap that glass ceiling to see it wiped away by one stupid mistake.
How could I have let this happen?
Chapter One
Two months earlier
It was my first day back in the London office after a bumpy transatlantic flight and I didn’t have the stomach for a fight. I crossed my fingers and hoped my guardian angel would get through the next twelve hours unscathed.
What annoyed me most was that I’d had no time to get the inside track on Sloane Brothers’ latest golden boy, Luke Cotterill, apart from the fact that he had quickly established himself as a smart, smooth operator who worked hard and played even harder. Being on secondment in New York for six weeks had left me out of the loop, and out of the loop was not a place I liked to be.
However, there were some small mercies – the weak dollar had provided me with a new wardrobe of beautifully tailored trouser suits that I’d picked up at Saks Fifth Avenue, so it was with an extra swagger in my step and wearing black Armani that I approached the company’s HQ that morning. Another bonus had been the amount of horny NY investment bankers, one of whom I ended up fucking on the walnut desk of his Wall Street office.
I was prepared to meet the new PA who had been recruited in my absence but there was no sign of her as I strode towards my glass box on the third floor. The fact that I’d recently been given my own office had ruffled some feathers on the team, but I’d insisted on it, given my seniority in Mergers and Acquisitions.
Most of the guys had their noses buried in the FT when I arrived but were suspiciously quiet. They didn’t usually pass up the opportunity to make a fatuous remark. Then I noticed that my office door was open and a man with a shock of ruffled blond hair was sitting in my chair with his back to me.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked in my best clipped voice.
The chair swung round. ‘Do I have to get up before you sit down?’ the occupant replied.
I felt myself boiling up inside but betrayed nothing.
‘Ah, Mr Cotterill I presume? Is that your way of greeting a senior colleague? How unusual …’
‘The famous Miss Carson, if I’m not mistaken,’ he replied without flinching. ‘Thought I would form a one-man welcoming party and warm your seat, so to speak.’
‘I usually have trespassers evicted but I’ll let it pass on this occasion,’ I told him, the false teasing note in my voice not fooling either one of us. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of catching up to do.’
‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he continued, regardless. I look forward to working you … I mean working with you …’
‘Look, Luke, I’m sure we will be having a briefing session soon so please can you leave my office now so I can prepare for it?’ I snapped.
‘Ooh, I already love it when you’re angry,’ he said, grinning at me. ‘I look forward to receiving further lashes of your tongue.’
‘I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you,’ I told him. ‘So I’d advise you to focus less on my tongue and more on keeping a civil tongue in your head.’
‘No need to be so buttoned-up, Geri,’ he said. ‘You’ll find out I’m a laid-back kind of guy really. I like to get laid back at my place …’
‘Right, out of my office, now!’ I ordered, still keeping that headmistress tone, like this was all Carry On and nothing to get worked up about, while tipping him forward out of my chair, ‘and it’s Geraldine to you.’
‘You’re no fun,’ he said, reluctantly getting up and walking towards the door. ‘I’m just having a little joke with you.’
‘Well, Luke, I can share a good joke with the best of them,’ I said. ‘Let’s just hope we share the same work ethic.’
‘I’m not afraid to burn the midnight oil, Geri,’ he said, ignoring my request to address me by my full name, ‘as you will no doubt discover. See you later, Miss Sourpuss.’
And with that, Luke Cotterill moved his wise ass out of my space and back into his domain.
I closed the door behind him and felt like fumigating the place. I was rattled by his rudeness but I knew he wanted to provoke a reaction in me.
It didn’t help that he was tall and lean as an Olympic rower, with the good looks to go with the physique.
And boy did he know it. He was clearly accustomed to women falling for his charms on a regular basis. This one was a dangerous beast, and I could not afford to give him the slightest ammunition.
Just as I was pondering how to deal with him, a young woman with long red hair came to sit down at the desk outside my office. So this was my new PA, Tania Peck.
I scrutinised her for a good few minutes. She had a great body, with legs up to her armpits and a ballet dancer’s posture that thrust her boobs out in front of her like heat-seeking missiles.
Everything about her shrieked ‘Look at me, boys!’ and I guessed it had been Daryll Sidebottom’s idea to hire her, probably to ‘cheer up the office’ or some such nonsense, but there was no point in arguing with the head of the investment team.
It pissed me off that she was flaunting herself in such an obvious way. I had the seemingly unpopular idea that hard work, intelligence and talent might actually get you places, so I had always been careful to cover myself up.
I felt like giving Tania a good talking-to but knew I’d be wasting my time. She was only 20, and she wouldn’t listen to a 28-year-old like me.
My face was a studied mask of indifference when she stood up and walked into my office, proffering her hand.
‘Miss Carson, it’s really nice to meet you at last. I hope you had a fun stay in New York,’ she said, speaking in an accent that was pure Sarf London, flashing a set of perfect white teeth.
‘Yes, it was a valuable experience,’ I told her, making eye contact but not accepting the handshake. ‘And please, call me Geri.’
‘OK, thanks Geri,’ she replied sweetly, flicking her long, flowing red hair off her face. ‘Give me a shout when you want to go through your correspondence.’
I nodded and closed my office door, making sure she realised I wanted a boundary between us. She was being too nice – a sure sign of a hidden agenda.
I sat down to check my emails and at the top of my inbox was a message from Ryan Buxton, the best-looking guy on the team and also my occasional fuck buddy.
Now please don’t pre-judge me. The ‘work hard, play hard’ adage
