Not really what anyone wants to hear on a Monday morning . . .
My boss was Natalie Wang. Sharp, smart, and could read the real estate market like it was a neon billboard.
We waited for the last person to leave the boardroom and I figured it was best to start the conversation. “What can I do for you?”
She smiled, then paused, chewed the inside of her lip for a moment. “I’ve heard rumours . . .”
Fuck.
“About?”
“That Mortimer Incorporated might be looking for new representation.”
I stared at her. “Mortimer . . . Which asset? If you tell me King Street Wharf, I’ll—”
“King Street Wharf.”
“Fuck.”
She smiled. “That’s what I said.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to get that contract.”
My smile became a grin. Excitement buzzed in my veins. “Time frame?”
“Unknown.” She pursed her lips. “It’s just a rumour. I heard a little birdy say Mortimer was pissed that Carter & Co had raised fees across the board, outside and above the CPI, and one long-term tenant has already given notice. They’ve had some other issues for a while but that was the final straw.”
Just to catch you up; Mortimer Inc owned a sizeable portfolio of prestigious real estate in Sydney’s central business district, or CBD as we locals called it. Carter & Co was a real estate management company who held the Mortimer contract. Oh, and if Natalie heard a rumour, it was real.
“You don’t hear rumours,” I replied with a smile. “You hear facts before anyone else.”
She almost laughed. “What’s your schedule like?”
“I’m wrapping up the Holdings job today and was meeting with the Qin group this afternoon. I’d rather not hand those off . . .”
She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t ask you to. Finalise what you have going, hand off whatever paperwork you can to a junior, and let’s start putting in some groundwork.”
I gave her a nod. “On it.”
Natalie rubbed her hands together. “Excellent. I’ll touch base with you on it tomorrow.”
I went back to my office, excited but wary. Sure, Natalie told me not to hand off my current contracts but also expected me to report on something tomorrow. When she said, ‘Let’s start putting in some groundwork,’ she meant, ‘I want you to give me a full report first thing.’ Which was fine. It was what they paid me big money for.
And who was I kidding? I liked a challenge, and I liked to kick arse at work.
My personal life was a different ball game. I liked to be the one who was tossed around on a bed, handing over all the control, all the responsibility, and all the pressure to perform, to excel.
I could let the other guy take charge, and it felt good to let it all go.
And thinking about Mr Friday Night—I didn’t know what else to call him—made me smile. Goddamn, the man had skills. And I would gladly hand over all the control, all the responsibility and pressure to him in the bedroom. Or in any other room he wanted me, to be honest.
I could get hard just thinking about the things he’d done to me, but I never relieved myself during the week. Oh no . . . I was very deliberately leaving that in his very capable hands. And honestly, Friday couldn’t come around fast enough.
Work kept me busy. I worked late every night and my sister insisted on dinner on Thursday night, so I had to rush from the office directly to meet her at the restaurant by eight. “You work too hard,” she greeted me with after clearly noting I was still in my work suit.
“Hello Susannah,” I replied, taking my seat at the table. “You look lovely tonight.” And she did. She wore a black dress with a small designer denim jacket and killer heels. Her blonde hair in waves past her shoulders, her skin flawless, though I’d expect nothing less from a beauty specialist at one of the city’s best salons.
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Michael. You know what I mean though. You do work too hard. I hope they appreciate the hours you put in.”
“They do. And I do.” I sipped my water. “I actually like my job. Did Mum or Dad put you up to this?”
Susannah’s smile told me they possibly had. “They’re both well, by the way.”
“I spoke to Mum on Monday.” It was brief, but it wasn’t a lie. I needed to change the topic. “How’s that gorgeous man of yours?”
“Still gorgeous,” she replied with a smile. She’d been seeing Jad for a while now. Two years, maybe. He treated her well and she was happy, so that’s all I cared about.
We ordered our dinner and had a glass of wine. She chatted about work and Jad, and I told her what my circle of friends had been up to. Well, it was more of a triangle, given there were only three of us. But they, they were just as busy as me, and we usually caught up for a few drinks and a laugh at a bar on Darling Harbour when we were free. The last time I’d seen them was at the bar the night I met Mr Friday Night, and that was almost three weeks ago.
I needed to give them a call.
God, have I really been that busy?
Susannah seemed to read my mind. “All work makes Jack a dull boy,” she hedged.
“I’ve been out.” I clearly didn’t sound convincing.
“Come out with us tomorrow night. We’re going to the lights festival at Barangaroo.”
Shit. Tomorrow was Friday . . .
“I can’t tomorrow.”
“If you’re working late, I will stage an intervention.”
I chuckled. “No, I, um, I have plans tomorrow night.”
This, of course, had her interest piqued. “Oh? Do I know him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Michael, spill the details. You’re smiling like you just learned the secret ingredients to Coca-Cola.”
I laughed at that. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“So it’s new?”
“No, that’s not it. I mean, it is new, but it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Well, it’s not anything remotely serious, let me put it like that.”
“Ah.” She nodded knowingly. Her smile was cheeky and she leaned in. “A booty call.”
I made a face. “I hate that phrase.”
“Well, what would you call it?”
“A . . . a pre-arranged meeting.”
She snorted and took a sip of her wine. “A booty call.”
I sighed. “He’s agreeable to our mutually beneficial . . . understanding.”
“And how long has this understanding been a thing for?”
“Two weeks. Tomorrow will be our third . . . mutually beneficial understanding.”
“Michael, you’re blushing.”
“No I’m not.”
“You totally are.”
“I just wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with you.”
“So I take it it’s very beneficial.”
I met her scrutinising gaze. “Oh, yes.”
She laughed. “Give me details.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Not those kind of details. I meant his name.”