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She stares at me for a good few moments, not saying a word. She seems to be thinking hard about what she’s going to say. Fiddling with the strap of her bag, she finally blurts, “Fine. I never finished my degree. I have no formal education, so I guess I can’t really call myself an analyst. But it’s what I do. I know the stock market like the back of my hand, and I love it. So that’s probably the real reason why Dirk didn’t give me the job. It just pisses me off that he also judged me based on my hair and the fact I’m a woman.”
I thought I was intrigued before. Now I’m fucking captivated. She has no formal qualifications, yet she’s throwing out advice about trades like a pro. She’s on the money about the Panorama shares. They’re exactly the shares I’d expect an analyst to recommend.
“So let’s say—” I start, but Tahlia comes running down the hall towards me and cuts me off, a look of panic on her face.
“Owen! I need your help. Right now!”
It’s not often my assistant descends into hysteria. In fact, she never does. Glancing between the two women in front of me, I say to Charlize, “Can you give me a moment? I want to discuss this some more with you.”
“Sorry!” Tahlia says to Charlize as she grabs my arm. “I just need him for a few minutes. Then he’s all yours again.”
Charlize nods and shoos me. “Go.”
Tahlia drags me away before I get another word in. I’ve no idea what the hell could be so important to Tahlia that it’s separating me from the beauty and intelligence of a woman I’m more interested in than any woman I’ve met in years. But as soon as I’ve helped her sort it out, I’m coming straight back here to find out more about Charlize. I need to know everything about her.
3
Charlize
“You could have told me that Owen owns North & Co.”
Poppy looks up from the bowl of chocolate ice cream she’s inhaling and frowns. “I thought you knew. Everyone knows that. And besides, the North bit in that didn’t give it away?”
“You know I’m not everyone, Pop, and no, the North didn’t click for me. Geez, I spent the night of your wedding trapped in a toilet cubicle with the man and then today I call him an asshole and—”
“Wait! Why’d you call him an asshole?”
“Well, I didn’t really call him an asshole so much as I told him that whoever owned the place was an asshole.” I still can’t believe I didn’t put it together that Owen owns that company. I mean, I follow companies and shares religiously. I just don’t take much notice of the people behind the companies. I’m more interested in the actual shares.
Her eyes widen in understanding. “So I’m guessing you didn’t get the job?”
After Owen was dragged off by some woman this morning, I hadn’t stuck around. I mean, there was no point. I wasn’t qualified for the job, I’d told his staff member off, and I’d called him an asshole. Plus I’d told him I didn’t want to work for his company. So yeah, no point hanging around. I couldn’t even imagine what else he might want to discuss with me.
It’s now just after 6:00 p.m. and I’ve spent the afternoon trying to figure out how I’m going to pay my bills. I don’t have enough cash in the bank to cover them and my rent, let alone food, so it’s going to take some creative shuffling to get through the next little while. I’ve got money coming in from random jobs I’ve done—house cleaning, gardening, and dog walking—but what I really need is a regular cash injection in the form of a stable job.
A real job.
Something I haven’t ever really had.
“I didn’t get the job,” I confirm. “And at this point I only have one other interview lined up for this week.”
Poppy and I are sitting on my couch—a hand-me-down from her after she moved in with Dougall—with our favourite show, Elementary, playing in the background. She arrived about ten minutes ago and went straight to my fridge for ice cream. Dougall doesn’t allow ice cream in their house. Actually, he doesn’t allow any kind of sweet food. I don’t know how Poppy has managed to stay with him for three years. I would have been out of there the day he said no to ice cream.
Her attention is drawn to the television for a moment. Pointing at it, she almost jumps in her seat. Well, she would jump if she wasn’t sitting. It’s more of an excited bounce. “He’s the killer! Watson was totally right about that.” Glancing back at me, she says, “You wanna come do my gardens? I’ll make sure Dougall pays you way more than he pays anyone else.”
I pull a face. “We both know there’s no way he’d pay me more than anyone else. Your husband is a tight-ass.”
She grins. “Yeah, but we’re leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow, and he’ll be in a sex coma for two weeks while I fuck him all over Europe. He’ll agree to anything while I’m putting out like that.”
The fact that he refused to leave for their honeymoon until he’d finalised a few deals he was working on would have pissed me off if he were my husband, but Poppy wasn’t at all put out by it. “More deals means more money, which means more shoes,” she’d said with a shrug. I love my cousin, but there are days where I wonder how we are even related.
My doorbell sounds and Poppy lifts a brow. “Is that Dylan?”
I shake my head. “No, he’s working tonight.”
When I don’t make a move to get up and answer it, she says, “You want me to check or are you still anti door-answering?”
“Don’t you dare. It’s dinner time for most people. No one should be knocking on doors during dinner time.”
