Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The - Stieg Larsson [17]
“What makes you think that?” he said.
“The way you look at me, and the way you don’t look at me. And the times you were about to reach out your hand and touch me but stopped yourself.”
He smiled at her. “I reckon you’d bite off my hand if I laid a finger on you.”
She did not smile. She was waiting.
“Lisbeth, I’m your boss, and even if I were attracted to you, I’d never act on it.”
She was still waiting.
“Between us—yes, there have been times when I have felt attracted to you. I can’t explain it, but that’s the way it is. For some reason I don’t really understand, I like you a lot. But it’s not a physical thing.”
“That’s good. Because it’ll never happen.”
Armansky laughed. The first time she had said something personal and it was the most disheartening news a man could imagine receiving. He struggled to find the right words.
“Lisbeth, I understand that you’re not interested in an old man of fifty plus.”
“I’m not interested in an old man of fifty plus who’s my boss.” She held up a hand. “Wait, let me speak. You’re sometimes stupid and maddeningly bureaucratic, but you’re actually an attractive man, and…I can also feel…But you’re my boss and I’ve met your wife and I want to keep my job with you, and the most idiotic thing I could do is get involved with you.”
Armansky said nothing, hardly daring to breathe.
“I’m aware of what you’ve done for me, and I’m not ungrateful. I appreciate that you actually showed yourself to be greater than your prejudices and have given me a chance here. But I don’t want you for my lover, and you’re not my father.”
After a while Armansky sighed helplessly. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“I want to continue working for you. If that’s OK with you.”
He nodded and then answered her as honestly as he could. “I really do want you to work for me. But I also want you to feel some sort of friendship and trust in me.”
She nodded.
“You’re not a person who encourages friendship,” he said. She seemed to withdraw, but he went on. “I understand that you don’t want anyone interfering in your life, and I’ll try not to do that. But is it all right if I continue to like you?”
Salander thought about it for a long time. Then she replied by getting up, walking around the desk, and giving him a hug. He was totally shocked. Only when she released him did he take her hand.
“We can be friends?”
She nodded once.
That was the only time she ever showed him any tenderness, and the only time she ever touched him. It was a moment that Armansky fondly remembered.
After four years she had still vouchsafed hardly a detail about her private life or her background to Armansky. Once he applied his own knowledge of the pinder’s art on her. He also had a long talk with Holger Palmgren—who did not seem surprised to see him—and what he finally found out did not increase his trust in her. He never mentioned a word about this to her or let her know that he had been snooping into her life. Instead he hid his uneasiness and increased his watchfulness.
Before that strange evening was over, Armansky and Salander had come to an agreement. In future she would do research projects for him on a freelance basis. She would receive a small monthly income whether she did any assignments or not. The real money would be made when she was paid per assignment. She could work the way she wanted to; in return she pledged never to do anything that might embarrass him or risk subjecting Milton Security to scandal.
For Armansky this was a solution that was advantageous to him, the company, and Salander herself. He cut the troublesome PI department