Page 7 of Love Spell

“He’ll love you for it.You should hear him go on even when no one asks,” Dave said seriously.“Timmy’s always hard on new guys, but that’s the best way to make him warm up to you — I guarantee it.”

Just as gravely, Noah had thanked Dave for the tips.Then he’d carefully avoided mentioning any outside country, home countries, childhood, or even languages anywhere near Timo.

When Dave asked a few days later, with Arthur lurking behind, whether Noah had found a chance to talk to Timo about Russia, Noah had smiled and told Dave he’d been right, and thanks again for the help.He left the two looking from each other to Noah as he walked away.

Noah was new.Not stupid.The sooner everyone figured that out, the better.

“Noah?”

Noah looked up from the elongated oval meeting-room table to Timo’s eyes.He was smiling at Noah, again creeping Noah out.

Noah had just been asked to do something, to which there was only one possible answer with the whole room looking at him.

“Yes, absolutely,” Noah said.

“Brilliant.”Timo rubbed his hands together.“Back to work and I’ll see you all later.”

There was a hurried pushing back of chairs, Noah taken aback to discover the meeting was over.He mentally scrolled on rapid rewind to review what he’d missed.Timo hadn’t asked him to do something.He’d invited them somewhere.Another male-bonding club or bike ride or conference or dinner.They all seemed to be big on this kind of thing, the louder and higher energy the better.Besides that, Timo was endlessly networking with industry insiders and trading buddies before, during, or after work.

Why weren’t they all utterly exhausted — knackered as they said here — after their work days?Noah had cottoned on pretty early in his own education that the industry attracted extroverts.The whole culture was wildly male-dominated, macho, competitive, and didn’t know the meaning of downtime.

It was the actual work that intrigued Noah, the trading, the math and fast thinking, the adrenaline rush of getting better and better, not only watching fortunes rise and fall, but playing a hand in the whole high-stakes game.

He was an outsider looking in, not only as the new guy, nor as a foreigner in London, but as a personality.And he liked it that way.He’d been playing a role all his life, being who he needed to be to survive.Next step was one better, not mere survival, but thriving.Getting this experience on his résumé was exactly how he wanted to start.

Going out for drinks with the team after work, when he was supposed to be packing up his life at Angela’s and promised he’d be cleared out tonight, was, apparently, the price one paid for greatness.

Stupid to say yes without realising what had been asked.Then again, he couldn’t have said no.He might have got away with it if he’d had a really good excuse.An excuse like “I’m basically moving tonight, even if that only involves a few bags.”

But there was no way he was going to start talking about his personal problems at work and become the butt of even more gossip and teasing, like being back in high school all over again.He didn’t mind the American jokes so much.Hell, he didn’t have a high opinion of the States either.But the baby-talk was starting to grate on his nerves.The last thing he needed was for the likes of Dave and Arthur to find out he’d lost his flat and been living on a friend’s couch.Having had to work, taking gap years, he wasn’t even that young, just turning 26 before finishing college, but it was incredible how young a person could be made to feel by a few well-chosen comments about bottles and nappies by grown men who were so mature they said such things.

One more matter Noah couldn’t bring up in all this team-building, back-slapping company: how much he hated beer.Give him a cocktail, hard cider, bourbon on the rocks, even a glass of wine, but one glass was plenty for him, and one beer was one too many.The drinking was part of the culture.He had to be bounced along in their wake just to be a good sport, to fit in, to make the grade and feel that team spirit.

There were about a dozen traders and a PA in the office.Only seven to the party tonight.A few guys had managed to escape.More likely a few guys legitimately couldn’t be here.Still, escape was all Noah could think of between wondering how to get rid of the foul liquid without actually having to taste it.Could he switch glasses with someone?Pass two back and forth without notice so the man on his left or right steadily drained the level in both?Might get away with that if they were already drunk.

Just give it to someone and find a different drink.Not everything had to be a drama.Some people didn’t like beer.So what?

Fit in.Fit in above all.Play your part.

Noah shut his eyes, held his breath, lifted the glass.

“So how’ve you been settling in?”

He jumped, sloshed foam over the rim and down his fingers.

“Settling in?”Noah couldn’t help the impulse to shy away when he opened his eyes to discover his boss had just plopped down on the magically empty barstool beside him.Not only right there in his face, when he had the rest of his team to argue with and talk shop, but smiling again.Like a hyena.

“At work, the new job,” Timo went on encouragingly, flashing white teeth.“How are you doing?Do you need anything?”

Need anything?What was going on?Was Timo high?Was this a setup?Had Dave told Timo something about Noah, real or invented, in a bid to get back at Noah for dodging the Russia bullet with the boss?

Noah was good at seeing patterns.For the life of him, though, he couldn’t figure out this one.

He leaned away.“Yeah, it’s good.Everything’s good.”From what Noah had observed of him all spring, Timo had an attention span about as long as a fingernail clipping for non-career-building social situations.Work and his other driving passions like marathons took all his interest, leaving none for details like the wellbeing of juniors.Smile and nod and Timo would move on to something else as quickly as a diving kingfisher.

“Are the other guys giving you a hard time?”Timo asked and Noah shivered.“I know how it is when you’re an outsider.”

Noah started very slowly to edge off his barstool away from Timo, as if sheer slowness could keep his actions from being noticed.

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