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consciously warm, professional smile. A big part of financial sector work came down to networking, and he could hardly remember the last time he’d eaten a lunch that hadn’t also been work-related. It was going to take more than a pair of unusually attractive eyes to distract him.
    â€œWell, of course,” she said, “billionaires ask me out all the time.”
    His lip twitched at her wry comment.
    She studied her menu and then nodded that she was ready to order.
    â€œI hear you did quite well on the Schibsted deal,” he said, to feel her out a little.
    â€œYou have good sources,” she said, cocking her head slightly. “I don’t know if I should feel flattered or alarmed.”
    â€œNot alarmed. I did my homework,” he said. “You’re considered an up-and-coming talent, someone to keep an eye on.” She’d been described as tough, cosmopolitan, and serious. There was no reason to doubt that all were true.
    â€œI read that article too,” she said. “I suppose time will tell.” She laughed. “You know how it is. You’re only as good as your last deal. You’re either on your way up or your way out.”
    â€œAnd right now?”
    â€œOh, right now I’m definitely on my way up.” She said it without any trace of false modesty. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many members of the Swedish aristocracy he’d met who could talk without wrapping everything they said in false modesty and mock humility.
    She ordered fish, and David automatically requested the same. It was elementary psychology to order the same dish as the person you had asked out.
    â€œDid you always want to work at a bank?” he asked once the waiter had left them. “Or were you ever interested in trying something else?” After all, she had been working at the Bank of London for several years now. It wasn’t an unreasonable question. The young financial sector elite was a hungry gang, and most of them were always on the lookout for new challenges.
    He glanced at her slender, ringless fingers again. She was probably completely dedicated to her job. Just like he was.
    â€œI’m happy at the bank,” she said.
    â€œYou’re the only woman on J-O’s team?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re an asset,” he said neutrally.
    â€œThanks.” Natalia gave him a wry smile. She drank some of her mineral water. “I’m happy at the bank, but if I’m going to be honest, my long-term career plan is to eventually take a position in my family’s company. I assume you know which family that is?”
    He nodded, feeling that familiar hatred welling up. He smiled, inhaled once, and then nodded encouragingly, as if he was actually interested, not out for blood at all.
    â€œWhere I come from, people don’t have such a favorable view of your line of work,” she continued.
    This honesty could be a problem. “That’s not a secret,” he said, trying to sound neutral, as if he were discussing something abstract, not the fact that the De la Grip family openly detested everything Hammar Capital stood for. Although they wouldn’t use the word “detest,” nothing so déclassé as that. They just wanted to guard their proud traditions.
    She must have sensed something about his attitude because she quickly laughed, a little apologetically. “I know it’s conservative and prejudicial. I’m not saying I agree with them.”
    He raised an eyebrow, because this was the crucial point. Just exactly how much did Natalia’s view differ from the rest of her family’s? “Oh?” he said.
    â€œI don’t think you can just lump together everyone who works in private equity or even venture capitalism. But, that said, my loyalties still rest with my family.” She shrugged slightly apologetically and waved her hand dismissively. “Sometimes you