Chapter 1BIRGER WALLENBERG WALKED DOWN the marble steps from the glass and brass offices of Verdandi, his mother’s Italian investment company. It was another in a long row of companies that were his to deal with under the watchful eyes of the Midgard Group.
He appreciated the snappy style of their staff but suspected that Italian emphases on flair in secretaries did not bed for efficiency in a less literary meaning. Maybe his weeks of celibacy were weighing in. These educated girls outperformed their testosterone brethren in going after what they desired. Being fabulously rich made him no drawback; unvoiced invitations veiled with flushed smiles. They all but whispered of love to him; te Amos in the sustained looks and assertive moves. Te Amo in the fall of staccato vowels. Invite me to d
