the time since he’d done so. Francesca stared down at the numbers on the page. Lindström made more money in a year than she would ever see in her whole life.
And he was already rich, to begin with.
No wonder he had thought it would be fine to flee the country after his hit-and-run.
It couldn’t be more obvious that Lindström was the kind of person to whom everything had always come easy. You almost couldn’t blame a guy like him, Francesca thought sourly, for thinking that the entire world was set up to serve his needs. When had he ever had any occasion to experience anything different?
The next page was another gossip article. Friska’s Royal CEO Gets Fresh! Beneath the headline were eight different paparazzi photos of Lindström, each time with a different woman.
She skipped down and began to read the article. It described Lindström as one of the hottest and most eligible bachelors in New York City, claiming that he spent every weekend at a different Manhattan bar and with a different woman.
She passed the article over to Laird. “Look at this,” she said. “Think it’s true?”
“Probably,” he said. “Guess he’s not with Lina Delmonte after all. He probably just had a one-night stand with her or something.”
“How does he have time for all this?” Francesca said. She herself could hardly manage to balance a social life with her responsibilities at the FBI. “How can he be such a successful businessman and still have time to party with all these women?”
“Well, it’s probably really easy for him,” Laird said. “When you or I want a date, we have to find someone we like, introduce ourselves, hope they like us, try to figure out something we both want to do…normal stuff. Lindström probably just says something like, ‘hey, I’m a prince, want to get a drink?’”
Francesca snorted. “Probably,” she agreed. “And I bet every single woman in the city is just throwing herself at his feet. On paper, he’s the perfect guy, isn’t he? A successful businessman. A health food enthusiast. Royalty, but not directly in line for the throne, so you’d get all the perks and the prestige without any of the worst of the royal responsibilities.”
“Are you saying you’d go for it?” Laird asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” Francesca scoffed. “He isn’t my type.”
“What about him isn’t your type? Blond hair and blue eyes? Tall and muscular?”
“I don’t mean physically,” Francesca said. “He’s fine to look at.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“He’s a playboy,” she said. “And he’s spoiled as hell. You can tell just by reading this file that he thinks he hung the moon in the sky. I can’t stand arrogant guys. If I wanted to spend time around someone who thought they were better than me for no good reason, I’d just go back to the office.”
Laird laughed. “You have a point there,” he said. “He is kind of a Chuck Stevens, isn’t he?”
“Oh, I’ll bet he’s exactly like Stevens.”
“The only difference being that Stevens wouldn’t actually commit manslaughter and then flee the country,” Laird said. “Whatever else you want to say about the guy, he’s got a healthy respect for the law. You’ve got to give him that.”
Francesca nodded thoughtfully. “I wonder if it would make any difference,” she mused.
“If what would make any difference?” Laird asked.
“The manslaughter charge,” Francesca said. “Say he’s acquitted, and he gets to go back to his life in New York. Do you think he’ll still be just as popular with women? There’s no way he’ll be able to keep this story out of the papers. People are going to know. Will that be enough to turn the bimbos away?”
“You sound like you’re personally offended by the fact that women go for this guy,” Laird noted.
“It bothers me,” Francesca admitted. “You know how hard I have to work to be taken seriously. Just because I’m a woman, people think I’m not as reliable, not as smart, not as competent. And women who act like this are only reinforcing that idea.”
“Shouldn’t they be allowed to have their fun, though?” Laird asked. He pointed at one of the photos of Lindström. “He’s certainly having a good time.”
“And what would you say if you saw a woman acting like he is?” Francesca asked him. “What if there was a feature with Lina Delmonte partying with ten different guys? You wouldn’t say she was entitled to have her fun. You’d think she was slutty.”
“So you’re saying what?” Laird asked.
“I’m saying I wish women would think about