The Merger Mogul Read Online Free PDF Page B

relationship; they’d only slept together
one night.  Then again when was he ever in a serious relationship? 
Maybe some time with Pamela was what he needed to get his mind off things for a
while.
    “Sounds
tempting,” he said sliding off the bar stool into the space that she already
occupied, “and I’m too weak to resist right now.”  Their bodies pressed
against each other in the tight space as he leaned around her and put $20 on
the bar rather than waste time charging the drink to his account.
    “Is that a gun
in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she said in her best Mae West
impression.
    “Let’s go find
out,” he said huskily.
    Mike, the bar
tender shook his gray head as he watched the pair walk off together.  It
was obvious what was up. Didn’t these kids think about AIDS or anything like
that?

 
 
    “Thanks. I
needed that,” Daniel said just over a couple of hours later as Pamela walked
him to the front door of her luxurious apartment complex, no doubt paid for by
her rich daddy.
    “Anytime,”
replied Pamela.
    He held the
back of her head, gave her a quick kiss on her lips and walked to his black
Porsche Turbo without looking back. He got in, started the powerful engine and
roared away. Pamela had certainly delivered all that she promised and if he’d
used her then she used him too so it was really win-win. So why did he feel so
empty?
    As he waited at
a light, he picked up his Blackberry which he’d left in the car and saw six
missed calls, three of which were from Angela.  Even as he put it back on
the passenger seat it began to ring.  The caller was identified as Angela
Pierce.  He groaned.  There was no way he wanted to talk to Angela
right now.  He really didn’t feel like explaining himself to her.  He
let the phone go to voice mail. He’d get Margaret to send round some flowers
and he’d do something special with her later in the week.

 
 
    Daniel walked
into his Upper East Side penthouse apartment, dropped his tennis bag on the floor
and went to the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge.
    “Is someone
there?” asked a cautious voice from the direction of the bedrooms.
    Oh, no! He’d
forgotten that his cleaning lady would be here although the apartment, with its
three bedrooms and en suite bathrooms, hardly needed cleaning since most of it
was rarely used.
    “Hi Clara, it’s
me,” he called.
    “Mr. Tennant,”
she said approaching, “What are you doing home at this time of the day? 
Are you sick?”
    “Some people
might think so,” he murmured referring to the time he’d spent with Pamela. “No,
Clara, I’m fine.  You just go back to your cleaning.  I’ll do a bit
of work here instead of going back to the office.”
    She looked at
him skeptically. “OK, I’ll try not to disturb you.”
    The telephone
rang and Clara hurried to answer it.  “Hello, Daniel Tennant’s residence.”
That would probably be Angela or it could be Margaret.  Before he could
signal Clara to ask who it was, she was saying: “Yes, he’s right here. Hold
on.” She held out the telephone.
    Daniel reluctantly
took the phone. “Hello,” he said.
    “Daniel, what’s
going on?” It was Angela as he expected. “First of all you make a date with me,
then less than an hour later, Margaret calls to tell me it’s off and that
you’ve left the office.  I’ve been calling you for the last three hours
and you haven’t answered your phone or returned my calls.  Where have you
been?  What’s going on?”
    “Angela, what
is this? We had sex this weekend and that gives you the right to know my every
move?” he asked defensively.
    There was a
shocked silence on the other end of the line.
    “You’re a cold
bastard, Daniel Tennant,” Angela said after a while. “You should be in Madame Tussaud’s .  You look real, but you’re nothing more
than a cold statue.” She hung up.
    Daniel slowly
hung up the phone. Angela was right.  He was a cold