Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Very, very strong.
“Well.” Aiden clears his throat. “Let’s work on selling those bonds then, shall we? And let’s play nice while we’re at it. Great job on getting us that extra basis point, Nora.” He gives my arm a quick squeeze, lingering too close for half a second too long.
I can feel several pairs of eyes on us. Even Theo looks up, his gaze moving from Aiden to me and back again. I could be imagining it, but I think I see curiosity flicker across his expression. Curiosity or . . . no, wait, anger makes no sense. Why would Aiden touching me make Theo angry?
Still, my face burns. Is everyone thinking what I think they are? And why is Aiden lingering this way? He made it crystal clear our relationship is professional now, nothing more. But every once in a while he’ll do something like this, making me wonder if he still has feelings for me.
I pull up my blotter. It shows the entire team’s trades for the day, and mine is the first one; it just needs Theo’s approval to go through, and then I’ll have a nice hefty chunk of sales credits before eight a.m.
Not a bad way to start a Monday. I can’t wait to see Theo try to squeeze into Nicky’s shirts. And the pants? I have no idea what Theo will do about those. Then again, in my experience guys who act like big swinging dicks rarely have the goods to back it up, so maybe he won’t have trouble shoving his tiny junk into Nicky’s pants.
Rubbing my hands together, my pulse leaps when I see the trading ticket finally go through. And then I see red when I look at the sales credits. Theo was axed to buy the bonds I sold him, which means the trade is “beneficial” to the desk. The sales force always gets extra sales credits for executing beneficial trades. The amount should be at least double the number I’m looking at now.
“Hey, Morgan, check those sales credits when you get a minute,” I say, deciding to give Theo the benefit of the doubt by assuming he doesn’t know our systems yet. “The trade is beneficial.”
“Sales credits are correct,” he replies. “You hit me on twice the number of bonds I was looking for.”
I turn my head to look at George and shake my head. Is this guy serious?
He pulls his mouth to the side. Maybe.
Standing up, I say to Theo, “I also got you an extra basis point. On twenty-four million bonds, that could end up being fifty, a hundred grand in your pocket. More if the market moves in the right direction.”
Theo looks up, his eyes flicking to my mouth. He scowls. “Or it could be a hundred grand loss. Sales credits are correct, Frasier.” He turns back to his screens and starts typing. His phone rings. He picks it up—he uses the old school black plastic handset instead of a headset and microphone, like me—and laughs. “Walt. Hey, buddy. Long time no see. Yeah, yeah, happy to be back in the QC. Yeah, I’d love to visit Chicago . . . I know the guys at Bexley well, Jason’s an old friend . . . just say the word . . .”
It’s all I can do not to scream. First, only news anchors and douches refer to Charlotte as the “QC,” short for Queen City. And second, he’s stealing my sales credits. Not to mention the fact he smiles for a dude, but only seems to scowl for me.
I would very much like to tell Theo I’ll not only ride a vacuum cleaner, but I’ll decapitate him with one too. A couple solid blows to that giant head of his should do the trick.
That still wouldn’t solve the sales credit issue though. I could cause a scene. Run this up the flagpole, get Aiden involved. But that’d make me look like a sore loser, and a squeaky wheel to boot. I can take care of my own problems, thank you very much.
Doesn’t mean I can’t bitch about it. I need a minute to cool off before I get back to kicking Theo’s ass, so I shoot some of my girlfriends on the floor a quick Bloomberg and set up a coffee run. Then I grab my wallet and stand, shooting Theo a glare.
“You wanna play dirty, Morgan? Be my guest. I’m still going to win.”
He’s off the phone now, and he looks at me for a long beat before getting to his feet. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
“I’m accusing you of being a dirtbag.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “What I gave you was fair.”
“What you gave me was bullshit. But don’t worry, I learned my lesson.” I cross my arms over my chest and head for the end of the row a few steps ahead. To my surprise, Theo follows me from his side of the row.