Peter and I met at my first job. He's a lawyer and I was tax accountant appointed to his case by my firm.
His office back in those days was huge and sophisticated, unusually but tastefully decorated. Peter was an enigma. Everyone knew about him. Young Brilliant no want for clients. Everone clamoured to get hold of him. He was successful,. Ruthless divorce lawyer. "Getting rich of others peoples misery" I used to chide him. "Setting them free" he used to counter argue. He was a loner, isolated and sort of weird if keeping to yourself even though you are rich and good-looking is weird.
The day I walked into his office, I later found out, was the day he decided we'd be married. I was terribly impressed with his beautiful office. I was entranced but the idea of working for Peter. But being very professional it was important to me that I retain the account. Despite his reclusive lifestyle, Peter Adams was a high profile client. It was a great show of faith in me that my firm had sent me to speak with him. I was only thinking of his accounts and doing the best job I knew how to do.
Walking in, I informed his secretary of my arrival and sat down in the waiting room. I glanced rather nervously around the room as she walked up the long corridor to his office. I spotted a camera hidden behind a dark dome in the corner of the room opposite me and wondered if he were watching me through it. Something told me he was. Something told me that he was deliberately watching me.
His secretary came back down the hall and informed me he would be happy to see me. Glancing into the camera's I straightened my skirt and walked up the olive green hall. On the walls were rimed gilt pictures done in a shiny gold. There were stands with lush green maidenhair ferns beneath each light. It was a strange and comforting kind of energy.
When I walked into the deep red lush office with its mahogany furniture for the first time a kind of thrill went through me. The room was so beautiful bit also disquieting. There was darkness behind all of this good taste and the effect was unsettling. And unearned intimacy. Peter was sitting behind his desk, which was to my left but facing the centre of the room. He was upright in his chair with his hands laced together at the fingers resting n the table.
"Anna Preston!" he stood up and came around to the front of the desk. "Excellent! Just excellent to finally meet you." He took my hand and gave it a hearty shake.
"Peter Adams! Yes it is good to meet. I am glad you have no problem with me being allocated by my firm to take care of your taxation concerns."
"Problem? Why would I have any problems? I specifically asked for you."
And he turned his back directly to me and walked around to the other side of his desk sitting down in exactly the same position he was in when I walked into the room. "Tell me Anna. How are you going to help me?"
I had no time to puzzle over his strange remark. Instead I got straight to his taxes.
Peter, not surprisingly, turned out to be very knowledgeable, which was good for me because he could tell I was good at my job and very well prepared. We worked for four hours straight on his file and came up with he basics for his annual budget as well as the skeleton for the end of year return. I felt tired. I had been concentrating hard making sure I got it right.
When we were done, I quietly began to pack my papers away. I was strangely disappointed that the day was over and that I would have to leave this nice office and this unusual man. For some reason, I thought we'd hit it off.
Peter Clearly had the same idea. He watched me as I packed away with a smooth still stare that I could feel like a breath on my skin.
"Anna, it's five thirty. I think your done for the day. I want you to have dinner with me."
