Who: Blake and Alfie What: Blake needs someone to watch his finances, because the damn things won't watch themselves. Where: Alfie's office. When: This week. Warnings: Excessive male ogling? Let's just consider that a blanket warning from now on with this character.
There was no question that, if he had the motivation to do so, Blake could take care of his own money. But the way he woke up the morning of his scheduled meeting with Penelope Worth served as a fine marker all on its own of why he needed to bring the managing of his money to a professional.
He sat up from the floor, running a hand through his hair while surveying the damage. The inside of his mouth tasted disgusting, like stale rum and dust from the carpet. There were drink glasses overturned on the coffee table, vinyl records scattered by the stereo, and various articles of clothing (dress, panties, another dress) tossed around the living room like a hurricane had hit a girl’s closet and thrown its detritus around the room. His guests, twin blondes with hair down to the middle of their backs, had already availed themselves of the kitchen, and both of them had opted to take a shirt from his closet rather than dress themselves again. Good girls.
Coffee did him a world of good, and he bantered with the twins while he drank it black and lit himself a cigarette to take a little of the edge off his hangover. The pair was new, and he couldn’t remember their names for the life of him, but he knew how to ask in such a way that they just laughed and told him again, pointing out the things that made them different, reminding him of all the private places where they had distinguishing marks. He assured them he’d remember this time, and saw to it that someone pressed their clothes to give back to them before they left. He dressed and shaved and helped them into their taxi before getting into his own car and driving to the offices of Worth Financials.
The secretary was good - she knew him when she saw him, and extended a cordial greeting, though that could just as easily be because she’d seen his picture in the paper. Even hungover and freshly wafting cigarette smoke and aftershave it was obvious a picture didn’t really do him justice, dark eyes deep set and unapologetically roaming over her as she told him it would just be a few more minutes. She had red hair and green eyes, and he tried to think back and remember the last time he’d been with a girl with red hair. The stipulation of ‘real’ knocked several girls off the list. It had been a while.
He sat in one of the provided chairs and minded his own business, doing her the favor of pretending he was amateur at this and had no idea she was boring holes into the back of his head. When she told him that Ms. Worth would see him now, she thought she was being very good, but her body language had all changed, and her shoulders sagged when he smiled and thanked her. Done deal.
He shut the door behind himself. He was dressed in a rumpled black suit that he hadn’t gone through the effort to have pressed even though he’d done it for the twins, and he quickly surveyed the woman across from him. “Afternoon.”
Alfie didn’t have to work for anyone, not anymore. She chose her clients because something about them interested her, sparked something within her that age made scarce and life ever scarcer. She’d taken Thomas on for that reason, because she’d been interesting in seeing what the young man with the hidden scars could do, and she had not been disappointed. More family than work, she’d stayed with him for over a decade, and she did not regret even one of those years.
She’d taken on Anton Sparke recently for the same reason. His past, the wrongs, the man himself with all his cocksure arrogance, they’d all caught her attention - not many things did these days. Admittedly, she had been left questioning that particular decision after Luke’s kidnapping, and she intended to get in touch with Anton about the matter, perhaps with Anton’s assistant. Divorces were always better handled by third parties than by those getting divorced, Alfie knew. She had a great deal of practice in divorces.
This man, Blake Thorne, was unexpected. She knew his name, but little else, when he had contacted the office about a meeting. She’d looked into him, then, because he wouldn’t have even gotten the meeting if she hadn’t found something interesting in the man on paper. What she’d found reminded her very much of Anton, but without the altruism Anton was careful to surround himself with. No good personal assistant like the one Anton employed to keep his name clean in the press, no one like herself to cover his mistakes like she did Thomas.’
No, she’d found a man with a good head for investments, and with no regard for anything at all. That was what earned him the meeting, his lack of regard. She was interested in seeing if it was real - no more, no less. And when Stacy let her know the man was waiting outside, she listened to the tone in her secretary’s voice, and she shook her head and chuckled to herself. Men. “Send him in, if you would, and ask him to leave his charm at the door, if you would,” she said, an entertained grin on her face. At the very least, this should prove interesting.
He walked across to her desk. "If I have to do that, this is going to be a very boring meeting, and I seriously doubt either of us want to shoot for a thing like that." He extended a hand to shake. "Blake Thorne," he said, introducing himself where no introduction was necessary, smiling in such a way that made it clear he had no fear of first impressions. "I think my charm and I were on your schedule." He glanced toward the closed office door. "If I'd been aware of the sort of assistants you hired, I might have been here earlier."
Alfie took his hand without standing, and she shook it without hesitation or lack of strength. She quirked a brow, and she motioned to the chair across from her, and she spoke over his shoulder, knowing Stacy would be there to ask her if she needed anything, that she would have heard his comment. “Stacy, two waters, if you would? Thank you.”
She glanced at him, looking to see if he was chagrined, or if he did not care that he had been caught in what he had said. She suspected the latter, but she acknowledged that she did not know enough yet to make that assumption with perfect certainty. “You would have come for my assistant and not for me? I am offended, Mr. Thorne.”
Zero chagrin. He turned to check the girl's expression over his shoulder, and smiled at her before turning back to Alfie. "Not at all - I came for you. I just didn't know there would be an extra surprise waiting." He sat in the chair, his posture languid. "I've heard you're the best at what you do, and that you're selective about your clients. How could I resist a talented woman who plays hard to get?”
“Flattery will get you my undivided attention, Mr. Thorne, but it won’t get you a financial advisor,” Alfie said comfortably, leaning back in her chair and giving him a look that lingered as Stacy brought in the bottles of water and glasses to that went along with them. She waited until the door had closed, and she motioned toward it. “I’m afraid I would have to advise her that you were a rake,” she said truthfully, her tone saying she really did not mind rakes in the slightest. “But, more importantly, I’d have to tell her I don’t know the source of your wealth.”
“Undivided attention first, everything else second." He took a bottle of water from the secretary, watching her for a moment as she walked out before taking a swig, not bothering with the glass.
“I promise not to let the truth hurt my feelings," he said with a smirk, bemused. "As for the wealth, it's a pretty boring old story of inheritance, with a fun twist. Dad was a touch on the paranoid side, stipulated I had to take the money in cash and deposit it myself if I wanted to inherit it. I wasn't going to say no to the money just because the banks set his teeth on edge." The paperwork, what there was of it, all checked out. He had the best fakes money could buy, generally indistinguishable from the real thing - a solid social security number and a nebulous family tree. The money, if mysterious in origin, was clean as a whistle.
“Is that your mantra? Undivided attention first and everything else second?” Alfie asked, looking from the direction Stacy had gone and back to Blake’s face. “Because that is, you must admit, dangerous when it comes to matters of finance.” She wasn’t concerned about his money, however, and that showed on her face. “Why me?” she asked plainly. “And why now?” She sat back, her fingers on the rim of her water glass, and she looked at him. He was trouble, this one. Trouble and God help whatever woman fell into his bed. It almost made her yearn for her youth. “And what do you plan to do with the wealth I can grow for you?”
"Not quite," Blake said. "Doesn't really apply to everything, I guess." He was relaxed in his lie, since he'd been telling it to humans of every stripe for long enough that it felt like the truth. Alfie didn't seem to care much what he said in answer to her question anyway, and he met that appraising gaze with one of his own. Trouble was right. He pinned the woman across from him as capable, intelligent, and beautiful enough now that she had to have been an absolute knockout in her youth. All pluses. "I hear that you're the best, and I decided somebody should be looking after my finances because I've got no interest in doing it," he said, which was the truth, and it was that simple.
"Use it irresponsibly," he said, and the smirk was back. "But it is my money, after all."
Alfie liked rakes; she always had. This man, he was definitely a rake. He would have been impossible to control, of course, rakes always were, unless you managed to get under their skin. She didn’t think it would be easy to get under this one’s skin, and she hoped whoever tried was either naive enough to make him want to protect them, or good enough at the game to end up on top. “I don’t need to work with anyone,” she told him, because that was the sort of thing best laid on the line early. “I take on people who entertain me, who I find challenging. You wouldn’t be my employer, and I don’t allow myself to be treated as such. Shall I keep talking?”
The concept of a financial manager who took on only cases that amused her whims made him grin openly. "Just the sort of person I'm looking for," he said. "I'm not interested in people who tiptoe."
“Tiptoeing is good at the start of the rollercoaster ride, I find,” Alfie said. “Once you’ve reached the summit, the time for rollercoasters is long gone.” She pushed the glass aside, and she sat forward. “I know your financials, Thorne. Why do you want me?”
"Because I like to have the best," he said. "And I'm not interested in getting involved with people who only have eyes for money, even if they are my financial manager." He was friendly, and he still smiled, but his gaze was steady and intense. "And because I liked the sound of you from what I heard." An appraising glance, very male, very appreciative. "And because you've more than exceeded expectations."
“I do strive not to disappoint,” Alfie replied, and the entertained grin reached her eyes. “I’ll need full access,” she said, as if the deal was done and signed. “And I am agreeing on the condition that I will have a front-row seat for any trouble you might manage to stir up,” she informed him. “However,” and this was said more seriously, “I do have one serious question, and I require a serious response.” She paused, waited for him to understand the full weight of the question. “I do not involve myself with criminal activities. You can be as badly behaved as you like, but nothing that would warrant more than a misdemeanor. If that is not something you can abide by,” she nodded toward the door.
“Done,” he said. The request for front row access earned her a slightly wider smile.
His expression sobered just a little when she posed her question about criminal activities, but the smile didn’t dissipate entirely. “Ms. Worth , I take pride in my ability to thoroughly enjoy life without having to get in the way of anyone’s life or liberty. The pursuit of happiness, maybe, if monopolizing the things that I like counts as getting in the way of people’s pursuits of happiness., and judging by some punches I’ve taken there are people out there who view that as a felony. But no, there’s nothing like what you mean.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m boring, really.”
She laughed. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy you. Welcome to the family, Mr. Thorne, I hope you don’t expect me to pick out your wardrobe or stock your refrigerator, but Stacy would, I am certain, be happy to assist in more personal matters.” She stood, and she held out a hand. “I can have the papers drawn up. Let’s make you some money, shall we?”
He stood, and he shook on it. "Money sounds good," he said, dark eyes alight with every kind of mischief. "I'll have to talk to Stacy about those personal matters on my way out. Does she come with the contract?"
“Only if you convince her she does,” Alfie said with a smile. Oh, yes, this one would be fun.