Page 8 of Out of the Shadows
DANIEL
Although I’ve waved Cosmo in, I’ve gone back to the document I was working on before the phone call interrupted me. It’s a deliberate tactic, signalling I don’t have the time for him.Keep whatever it is you want to talk to me about short and sweet, then leave.I don’t acknowledge him for several seconds, but I’m aware of every movement he makes.
He sits in the chair across the desk from me and lounges back, loose and relaxed and without a hint of nerves or awkwardness and, without wanting it to, it all comes flooding back.
Five years ago, when Cosmo was fresh from university and believed he knew everything there was to know in the world when in reality he knew bugger all. It had reminded me of myself at that age, that cast iron belief I could do anything, and I saw it in Cosmo. It was a compelling, attractive quality, but everything about him had been compelling and attractive, until the blunder which had almost cost me a shed load of money and a near kick in the repetitional balls. I blink at the screen, and at the unintelligible nonsense I’ve just typed in.
When I look up, it’s everything I can do not to look away.
All his attention is fixed on me, his cool green eyes unreadable.
He shifts to sit up straight, but takes his time about it; there’s a laziness to his movements which sets my teeth on edge.
“I’ve brought you my report. Initial thoughts, as you asked for.” He pushes the stapled sheaf of papers across my desk. I look down at it but don’t pick it up.
“Thank you, but an electronic copy would have sufficed.”
“Of course I’ll send you an electronic version, but I remember from — well, another time — you like paper documents, too, to scribble and make notes on. I thought I’d save you the trouble of printing one out.”
My shoulders jerk in surprise. He’s right, he’s exactly right, but how in God’s name has he remembered a detail like that? He’s got far more to remember about me — such as me bawling him out in front of an office full of people and threatening to have him removed by security if he wasn’t gone within ten minutes. He deserved to be fired, of that I had, and still have, no doubt, but not in the way it happened. It wasn’t my finest hour but once it was done, it was done, and there was no going back.
I pull the papers towards me.
“I’ll go through it and come back to you.” I turn my attention back to my screen, and the rubbish I’ve typed out. It’s a dismissal but he’s not taking the hint and I grind my teeth together.
“Thank you, Cosmo. I said I’d get back to you.” I look up and meet his eyes and my jaw tightens at the same time my stomach twists.
His dark green eyes are still focused on me.Feline. The word comes out of nowhere. Feline, like a cat stalking its prey, deciding if or when to strike. He tilts his head to the side, just a little, as his eyes narrow slightly. The challenge is undeniable, confident with more than a touch of arrogance. Whatever gauntlet he imagines he’s thrown down, I’m more than capable of picking it up — and throwing it back in his face.
I’ve faced down CEOs, Chairmen of Boards, and financiers with more ease than I have with this cocky little subordinate. He needs to learn his place, and fast.
I take a long, slow and silent breath, one of Geraldine’s centring techniques. Mindfulness, meditation or whatever, they’re not the bollocks I always claimed them to be. Silence fills the office, silence I’m leaving it to Cosmo to blunder in and break. I don’t have to wait long.
“I thought we could go over it now. I know your next meeting’s been cancelled. I checked your electronic diary,” he adds.
“How do you expect me to have a constructive meeting with you? I’ve not had the chance to read it. If you’d done the sensible thing and emailed it to me first…” I shrug my shoulders. A wash of red colours his cheeks.
“I’ll leave it with you.” He stands to leave.
“Wait.” I pull the papers closer. He’s right, I can look at this now. It doesn’t matter this is the first I’ve seen of it. I can speed read, and the curiosity of what he’s come up with is getting the better of me.
Cosmo sits back down as I begin to scan the document. Picking up a pen, I make brief notes in the margins, underline here and there, add question marks… It’s good, better than expected. But I’m not going to tell him that, or not yet.
“Not too bad, I suppose. For a first effort.”
“It’s a discussion document, designed to prompt thinking. It’s what you asked for.”And it’s what you’ve got, he may as well add. It is what I asked for, but this is more in-depth than a list of high level ideas.
I tap the nib of the pen against the paper. “I like this idea for targeting the LGBT+ market. It’s a growing sector and ripe for exploitation.”
He doesn’t bother hiding his snort of disdain. A cringe threatens to crumple my body. From the day he walked into my office, with his foot on the first rung of his professional life, he never hid who he was. I was impressed with his openness and with what I considered his bravery.
“I mean commercial exploitation.” My attempt at an explanation makes it even worse. “What I mean—”
“I know what you mean. It’s a sector of the market, just like any other. Well, not quite like any other.” He smirks, his green eyes meeting mine.
He pulls his chair in closer to my desk. “I think we could really hone in. Cleaver Jackson is all about niche markets, so why not bespoke and tailored investment portfolios that speak to the LGBT+ community? Even within that there’s room for diversification, room to really drill down to what speaks to gay men or to lesbians, for example. Different products tailored for all sections of the community, addressing different interests, different life stages. In other words true, specialist bespoke investing. Look at this, here…”
He leans over the desk and picks up the pen I’ve set aside, asterisking a point. He’s got the bit between his teeth, his eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he expands on point after point. I’m listening, I really am, but this close his words are not the only thing I’m aware of.
