𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 | ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

Chapter 6

PRESSURE'S A FUNNY THING. It makes some people snap. Like the MIT student who decides to take out half the student body with a long-range rifle because he got a B-plus on a final. It makes some people choke. Two words: Jorge Posada. Enough said. Pressure makes some people fall. Crumble. Freeze.

I am not one of those people. I thrive on pressure. It propels me, drives me to succeed. It is my element. Like a fish in water.

I get to work the next day bright and early. Dressed to kill with my game face on.

It's go time.

Hermione and I arrive at my father's office door at nine a.m. on the dot. I can't help but check her out. She looks good. Confident. Excited. Apparently she reacts to stress the same way I do.

My father explains that Tom Riddle called to say he would be coming to town ahead of schedule. As in tomorrow night.

Lots of businessmen do this. Push meetings up at the last minute. It's a test. To see if you're prepared. To see if you can handle the unexpected. Lucky for me—I am and I can.

And then we begin. I insist on ladies first.

I watch Hermione's presentation like a kid watches a gift under the tree on Christmas Eve. She doesn't know that, of course. My face is the very definition of bored indifference. On the inside, though, I can't wait to see what she's got.

And I'm not disappointed. Don't tell anyone I said this—I'll deny it until death—but Hermione Granger is pretty fucking incredible. Almost as good as me.

Almost.

She's direct, clear, and persuasive as hell. The investment plans she lays out are unique and imaginative. And destined to make a shitload of money. Her only weakness is that she's new. She doesn't have the connections to necessarily make what she's proposing happen. Like I've said before, part of this business—a big part—is having the inside track. The hidden info and dirty secrets that outsiders can't get to. So although Hermione's ideas are strong, they're not altogether viable. Not a slam-dunk.

Then it's my turn.

My proposals, on the other hand, are rock fucking solid. The companies and investments I outline are well known and secure. Granted, my projected profits aren't as high as Hermione's, but they're certain. Dependable. Safe.

Once I'm done, I sit beside Hermione on the couch. See us there? Hermione's hands are folded neatly in her lap, her back straight, a sure, satisfied smile on her lips. I lean back on the couch, my stance relaxed, my own confident smile a mirror image of hers.

For those of you out there who think I'm a shit heel? Watch carefully. You're going to love this part.

My father clears his throat, and I can read the excited gleam in his eyes. He rubs his hands together and smiles. "I knew my instincts were right on this one. I can't tell you how impressed I am with what you've come up with. And I think it's obvious who should move forward with Riddle."

Simultaneously, Hermione and I smirk at each other, gloating triumph written all over our faces.

Wait for it...

"Both of you."

Irony's really a bite in the ass, isn't it?

Our eyes turn to my father, and the grins drop from our faces faster than an Acme safe in a Road Runner cartoon. Our shocked voices speak at the same time.

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"With your artistic flair for investing, Mione, and your concrete know-how, Draco, you two will be perfect together. An unbeatable team. You can both work on the account. When he signs with us, you can share him—the workload and the bonuses—fifty-fifty."