Fierce

Prologue

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For my little sister. You are my weirdest and most loveable friend.

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He sat there, whiskey in hand, trying not to stare. He probably looked creepy, and he was trying not to. But he couldn't help it.

He couldn't stop looking at her.

He stole glances from behind his phone, over his friend's shoulders, over the rim of his glass; he looked from the corner of his eye, turning his body so as to not make it obvious...and creepy. More creepy than it felt anyway.

"Dude, stop gawping. It's fucking creepy."

"What?" he turned to Peter, his Personal Assistant, and blinked stupidly. He thought he was doing okay. 

"You're staring at that poor woman, and you should stop...cause it's fucking creepy."

That woman was anything but poor. Poor was last word he would use to describe her. "I'm not," he protested, but at the look his PA was throwing at him, he backtracked. "Okay, fine, I was. But jees..." he trailed off.

"I know. She's beautiful."

He nodded, but he didn't agree. Well, she was beautiful...obviously – very beautiful. But he had come across a lot of beautiful women in his life, and it was something else. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but it was there, and he couldn't stop looking.

"Oh bugger, incoming. Sorry mate, I'm outta here," Pete thumped him on the back and fled in the opposite direction.

Linc turned around to see a red faced John Anderson making a beeline for his table. This type of snobby party was exactly where you could expect to find a man like John Anderson – the type of newly rich social climber to fall over himself kissing up to other rich people. Fortunately for Lincoln though, if anyone knew about this woman, it would be John Anderson: a man who made it his business to know everyone else's.

"Lincoln my boy! How are you this evening?"

"I'm quite well thank you John," he continued. "And yourself? How is Mrs Anderson?"

"Oh we're both marvellous! Janey's having a fine old chat to Victoria– over there by the bar. How's business, Lincoln? Curtis tells me it's still a-booming. Congratulations, son. Your father would be chuffed."

Linc tried not to laugh – he knew his father was proud, but he would never be 'chuffed' about anything. "That's very kind of you John. We've recently completed the Australasian sector expansion, so after the South American venture wraps up we'll have a well-deserved br-."

"Very good, very good," John interrupted hastily. "Well, Lincoln, if your people need any help with their personal investments, then I would be most happy to accommodate them. Just give me a call, and I'll fast-track you."

"That's a generous offer, John. Thank you, I appreciate it," Lincoln paused - how to make this very obvious segue smoothly? 

"Oh nonsense," John flushed a pleased pink. "Anything to assist a friend, eh?"

Lincoln abandoned any attempt at subtlety, and flat out asked. "Do you know that woman there? Black dress, by the bar."

John looked across the cavernous space to the opulent black marble bar. 

"Ah yes. That would be Georgiana Abel. Why do you ask?" he smirked at Lincoln knowingly.

"She just looks extremely familiar but I can't seem to place her," Lincoln lied.

"Well I'm not surprised she's familiar – she has quite the reputation."

"Oh?"

"You don't know? Well, that doesn't surprise me, actually. Your father was never one for gossip either – both busy men, eh?"

Lincoln just shrugged – having no idea what to say to that. "Perhaps you could fill me in then John?"

"On her reputation? Of course! I'm sure everyone could really; she's quite notorious. Georgiana there is the only daughter of the Abel family, you must have heard of them - very old money. But not much business sense in the last few generations – except her, really. She singlehandedly built back up the family name, and fortune, from next to nothing. Impressive business-woman."

Linc couldn't hide his confusion. "Where does the notoriety come in?"

"Well...her extra-curricula activities are somewhat controversial. Many bed partners, if you know what I mean." Linc could piece it together; the comment wasn't exactly cryptic. "There are some broken hearts dotted around the city due to this young lady here!" John chortled. "Look there. Mr Hanley, Mr Davies, and now Mr Fenn by the looks of it. Of course there are more – many more." He pointed each of the men out casually.

From what he had heard, all three men were extremely eligible... or at least that's what his sister informed him. He knew they were from old money and could all be considered attractive, in their own ways. Lincoln turned around to view to massive room, and saw all three men. Two of them were glaring at each other from opposing sides of the ballroom, and both of them were staring down Mr Fenn, who at the bar besides Georgiana Abel.

Lincoln watched as the young Mr Oliver Fenn pulled out all the moves, trying to crack her polite indifference. After a while, her gaze skimmed him from head to toe, and then she tipped her head and smiled. She slowly ran her pointer finger around the rim of her champagne glass, saying a few words Lincoln couldn't decipher. Mr Fenn watched the hypnotic movement and almost tripped on his feet as he followed her onto the dance floor.

Lincoln caught himself blatantly staring at the waltzing couple and looked away in haste. With a dull kind of shock he realised that what he was experiencing was a curious type of fascination. He was fascinated by her...and he wasn't a man that was fascinated by much. He tended to just chug along- content to move through the paces of his life and go about his usual business. But to be stopped short by fascination?
Well, that was rare.

"Very interesting, John, thank you. Will you please excuse me? I see my sister." Without waiting for confirmation, he offered a firm handshake to the flustered John and made his way into the hallway outside.

From here, the tinkling of the glasses and murmured laughter was muted, and he felt himself relax for the first time all night. He slid his phone out of his inner breast pocket, and dialled his PA. "Pete? We've got a prospective client, mate – make an appointment for tomorrow....yeah, I know it's a Saturday...so? They'll make time for us. Yeah. Yes – look I'm heading off – you can stick around if you want. Right – free booze...exactly. Okay, bye."

Linc hung up, and trying not to smile, he walked out into the warm summer night.