Fall in New York, the season of inspiration for every poet, high fashion coats on the runway and leaf strewn sceneries accompanied by the chilly breeze. As the green summer collapses into a cascade of red, gold and brown falling leaves, it marks the end of a rally in the financial markets.

Meanwhile on Wall Street, September has earned it's reputation as the worst performing month historically in the stock market. Prices on the trading screen mirror the transition to fall as the stocks start blinking red, followed by the drop in value.

It is a common sight to have my eyes concretely glued to the screen on the first Friday of every month. Data on Non farm payroll and unemployment rates are about to be released in an hour. There is a close watch on the job data today as August ended on a high note. Post the vigorous bull run, prices are no longer undervalued, instead borderline expensive.

A hint of uncertainty or a whisper of lamentable news can send prices tumbling down, spreading fear like a disease across the markets. This, is precisely why I love my job as a hedge fund manager, hardly a dull day at work. The stock market is like a lover, a passionate and capricious one. A man who keeps you on your toes, he is moody and volatile on a bear market. However, when he switches to a bull market, he is withal doting and profoundly generous.

Dating the stock market is an everyday affair, always needy and demanding of your full attention. A contributing factor as to why I've been single for 5 years by now. My dating life is scheduled around economic calendars. Additionally, I have imposed specific times when phone calls are restricted, for example 7.30am to 4.30pm, a concept that all men out of the industry could never fathom.

The other problem of mine? I get bored terribly easily, making it difficult for a guy to keep my attention for long. It's near impossible to find anyone else that gives you the same amount of thrill and excitement that the market exudes.

Standing at 5ft 7, with a petite figure, long dark brown hair, fair skinned, large doe eyes and soft features, it wasn't as if I fared terribly on the physical side. I simply find dating to be tiresome and boring. Especially if it requires effort in search of topics to talk about. Even if I do 'date', the men will realise that 'dating' a woman whom infrequently needs you except for the rare occasional stand in dates isn't fulfilling enough for their male ego. Which leads me back to the drawing board for my dating life.

Even so, I wasn't the slightest bit bothered by my lacklustre relationship affairs at present. Alas, women like me don't intend to settle. Should I ever fall in love one day, it has to be a mad romance.

It is 8.30am now, data has just been released. Though it wasn't weak, neither were the figures phenomenal. "Here's your coffee, Brooke" says Brandon, my trusty assistant placing my morning addiction in front of me.

"Thanks, you're the best. Also, send out a memo to start trimming positions. Judging from the sentiment, markets aren't too pleased with the uninspiring numbers", I replied taking a grateful sip of my coffee. Nodding obediently, he gets to work right away. Over the years, he is now well accustomed to the urgency of time.

At 9.10am sharp, Sarah my best friend calls. She, for one, could never grasp the concept of not calling during non sanctioned hours, or rather she never abides by it. "Shoot, you've got 60 seconds. Starting now", I answered.

"What a pleasant good morning to you too", she replies drily, "It's Fashion Week, what else can be more important?".

I chuckled, "I almost forgot, see you after work".

"Wait. What are you going to wear?", Sarah continues, ignoring her allocated 60 seconds.

"I'll be wearing a frown if I can't sell at a good price, your time is up", I grinned hanging up the phone.

"This is why you're going to grow old with a hundred cats in an abandoned castle, Brooke", was the last words I heard her grumbling before the line cuts. She is right though, I am known as the unattainable Ice Queen of Wall Street. Contented, undamnable and void of any emotions regarding matters of the heart.

A golden rule that I've learnt from the stock market is to never follow your emotions. Listen to your heart and be prepared to get burnt. The last time I failed to heed this advice, I was led by my heart in relationship affairs. Needless to say it was set on fire (in a bad way). The ashes of it's remains are still buried somewhere deep inside, I wonder if it still functions.

The rest of my day consists of monitoring, trading (buying/selling), researching and drawing up strategies. There are 2 other hedge fund managers in my firm, Thomas and John. As the only woman, there was a great deal at stake when I first joined. I had to prove, not only was I an equal, but also exceptionally good at my job. As of present, I'm pretty tight with Thomas except for John.

John manages currencies and European markets. I, on the other hand look after US and whole of South East Asia. Every year we vie for the best returns, it's the 8th year by now, we are still alternating between each other and never exchanged more than 150 words in 2920 days. As of today, I'm holding a healthy lead thanks to the August run but a stormy September could detour my course.

By the time work ended, I am ready to turn off and tune out of the markets. Frank, my driver was waiting downstairs by the roadside in my black Rolls Royce Phantom EWB. He is the most consistent man in my life at the moment, definitely more reliable than my father, which I haven't seen nor spoken to in 15 years ever since my parents divorced.

My mother on the contrary, is dearly precious to me. She lives in South Korea and visits for 6 months, once a year. It has been two days since she returned to Seoul, and I'm starting to miss her already.

Every time she visits, she would raid my house for cocaine. As a traditional lady, her idea of anything Wall Street related translates to cocaine and strippers. The media portrayal of our industry, swarming with drug and sex addicts isn't helpful either. The Wolf of Wall Street movie intensifies her belief all the more. I have many addictions, thankfully drugs aren't one of them. Since my love life is nil, sex is also out of the equation.

"Good evening, Ms Brooke. Where to now?", greets Frank from the driver seat. "Hi Frank, you can drop me home, thanks", I replied as I reclined the seat and stretched my legs. Its been a long day. The drive from the firm to my apartment in 995 5th Avenue takes half an hour, plus and minus depending on traffic. This small window of downtime is my opportunity to catch a quick shut-eye.

"We've arrived, Ms Brooke", says Frank waking me up from my power nap. "Thanks Frank, by the way you can take the weekend off. I'll see you on Monday morning 6.30am", I replied, stepping out of the car. He nods his head and waves goodbye as I head up to my apartment.

Once inside, I call Sarah and tell her that I'll pick her up in an hours time. The first thing on my agenda now is to change into an outfit more front row fashion friendly. The apartment was originally a five bed room floor plan. I took the liberty of combining three bedrooms into one and turned it into a large walk in wardrobe. All 3 corners of the elongated room are fully utilized with clothes and 1 for handbags and shoes. Situated in the middle are 6 large jewellery display counters arranged back to back. Needless to say, I have a shopping addiction, one I don't intend to cure.

The problem with being spoiled for choices is the time consumption. I could never decide on what to wear, plus I get distracted effortlessly. Thankfully, my wardrobe bad habits remain in the closet and never spills over to the stock market. A recipe for disaster to the portfolios. Eventually after a dozen tries, I settled on a plain white corset top, tucked in a black high waisted wide legged palazzo pants and a navy blue open sleeve long cloak across my shoulders. I paired it with a yellow gold diamond drop choker, matching dangling earrings and bracelet set to brighten up the look. I grabbed a black clutch, slipped on a pair of black classic Louboutin peep toe pumps and was finally ready to go.

Sarah's condo is down the street in 875 5th Ave building. Though I was past an hour to pick her up, she was probably still getting ready. I texted her when I arrived, and as expected she demanded another 15 minutes. I have no qualms since the word punctuality cease to exist in our dictionary. We've waited for each other so many times, till we lost count and stopped apologizing. I am early only for work and beyond fashionably late for everything else. Wasn't there a saying that goes, a Queen is never late, everyone else is just early?

Sarah lives by that quote religiously, appearing after 20 minutes and slides in my grey Aston Martin DB11. Apparently, we were both the Queen in our friendship.

"You're driving. It means we're going to be extra late", she groans, "You drive so slow, you're an embarrassment to your Aston Martin".

"Shut up and buckle up", I grinned.

"I highly doubt there's a need to buckle up with the speed you're going. My grandmother can probably out run you", she snickers.

Sarah is a stunning blonde at 5ft 8, she's a head turner and also my closest friend. I've known her longer then half my whole life. By virtue of that, we were way past pleasantries and formalities. Sarah and I are an embodiment of a typical sunny blonde and sullen brunette friendship with an unbreakable bond, often poking fun at each other minus the bickering.

We arrived in time for the 2nd show. Our front row seats were secured through Sarah's connections and our expensive shopping habits. Sarah comes from old money, her great grandfather built an empire of casino resorts across Asia, resulting her status as an heiress. A low-key one. Though her family amass billions of fortunes, they were eminently discreet about their personal life. Their company is private listed, away from the eyes of public which makes information pertaining them limited.

Despite her inherited wealth, Sarah believes in earning her own money, an immensely respectable trait. Albeit in reality, the interest on her fixed deposits were covering most, if not all her expenses. I could never bring myself to burst her bubble when she happily cashes in her monthly pay check of $2500 as a marketing executive for a magazine company.

We sat through the remaining shows that lasted till 10pm. Watching the designs strut the runway was awe-inspiring. By the time the event ended, I have a rising itch to go shopping. Considering it impossible to fulfill that desire as the malls were closed, we opted to quench it with drinks instead, while checking out a newly opened club called The Vault.

I handed the car keys to the valet while Sarah arranged our guest lists. The entrance of the club was designed to replica a bank vault. After walking through a dark tunnel lit by a single spotlight, we were inside the main space. The interior was noticeably anti climaxing compared to the entrance. There were only metal standing tables scattered around the corners, however nobody seemed to mind the mediocre deco as the dance floor was full, packed with clubbers sandwiched together, bobbing around their tables. We battled our way upstairs to the VIP area which was remotely better with carpet flooring and leather couches spread across the upper deck.

"Brooke Morgan! Is that you?", there was an uncertain tap on my shoulders from behind.

I turned around to a familiar face, "Tim, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Hong Kong". Tim is an old friend, and a highly talented FX trader. 3 years ago, he was head hunted by an overseas bank offering him an offer he could not refuse. Rumour has it that the price tag on the buyout package was astronomical, beyond anyone could imagine.

"I got transferred to lead a new team here, I am back in Manhattan for at least another year. By the way you look great, not a day older since we last met. Market's been treating you well, I presume", says Tim grinning.

Upon introducing Tim to Sarah, he invites us to join his table for a couple of drinks. "Come, I'm with a few industry people. You might know some of them", he mentions while leading the way. There were three of them at the table, I recognized two amongst the trio. One of them was Keith, a private banker and the other Steven, an analyst.

The third guy stood out distinctly. Standing at 6ft 2 with a strong chiselled jaw line, square face, hard eyes, perfectly styled wavy dark hair and a clean cut look, he is definitely a handsome one. He wore a well tailored suit that defines his broad shoulders and complements his proportionate lean muscular body. However, it was his debonair playboy image and a devil may care attitude with a touch of arrogance that completed his overall look.

Revoltingly rich, disgustingly good looking and dangerously suave, he resembled a double agent from a spy movie. The kind of villain that seduces you before betraying you, ruining your heart, life and career. Exactly the type of guy I love to hate.

"I see you've met Keith and Steven. Brooke this is Nate, Nate meet Brooke", Tim does the introductions. He flashes a cocky side grin, lifting his glass of champagne as a greeting. There are two leggy models next to him, one on his left arm and another on his right. I nodded my head and walked away, the air of confidence around him obnoxiously suffocating. Somewhere in that mind of his, I bet he thinks that he's God's gift to women. For some reason that seemed to irk me, plus the two women on his side were swooning at him, vying for his attention and probably reaffirming his already inflated ego.

"That's Nate Graham from ATTA Capital, he's the top hedge fund manager in his firm, maybe you've heard of him", Tim mentions while pouring us our drinks.

The name Nate Graham was starting to ring a bell. Infamously known as the Wall Street Casanova, he was often spotted with a different girl every week. The younger male interns idolize him. Notorious for a 2 dates maximum only record, word has it that's all he needs to get a girl in bed, even a tough nut. Personally, I think that's an exaggeration.

"Isn't he the guy that dated a celebrity recently?", chips in Sarah. Tim chuckles, "I lost count of his endeavours, let's just say he's the kind of guy I'd trust with my life savings, but I'll never leave my sister alone with him for more than 10 seconds".

I scoffed, "Isn't 10 seconds giving him way too much credit?".

"Trust me, I can last more than 10 seconds, you'd be begging me to stop before it's over", a deep husky voice appeared beside me. It was Nate, sporting a smirk on his face. "Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, I'll be bidding farewell. I've got important business to attend", he finishes his drink and sets down the glass, walking away with the two giggling women wrapped around him.

"Did he just mention a threesome?", gapes Sarah. Tim laughs, "Yep, you got it".

"Brooke, do you know who he reminds me of?", Sarah asks excitedly. "Who? Dan Bilzerian?", I replied sarcastically. She scrunches up her nose slightly, "Come on, you've got to admit he looks a million times better than Dan Bilzerian. He reminds me of your ex".

"Are you kidding me? Jacob may not be the sweetest guy in the world but he wasn't such a dick. Plus they don't look alike", I pointed out.

She snickers, "Please, they have the same player vibe". It was Tim's turn to look amused, "I never knew you liked bad boys, Brooke. Always thought you were a level headed one".

"I don't, she's talking nonsense", I snapped. Sarah laughs, "Oh, she loves bad boys, trust me. She's just in denial about it".

"Watch me marry a nice, loving, doting doormat one day", I retorted.

"Stay away from the nice guys, they are mine", Sarah shot back.

In truth though, Sarah was right about one thing, I never liked a 'YES' guy. Those awfully nice guys that bend over to all your whims. The least of our worries would be to fight over the same guy. Sarah loves nice guys. Though I would argue that they are boring, she might be the wiser one when it came to choices in this area.

Still, that doesn't mean that I'll ever like Nate, there's a difference between a bad boy and a serial womanizer. Nate falls under the latter. Plus, I'm too old at 28 to fall for a player, what I need in this phase of life, is a stable, dependable guy. A retired bad boy.

Our night progressed with light banters over drinks. Tim was noticeably attracted to Sarah, his way of courtship includes taking her side when she pokes fun of me. What a biased and unfair leverage. Sarah of course didn't seem to mind the extra ammo. After an hour of laughter and throwing shade, we retired early for the night. We have a full day planned for back to back fashion shows tomorrow.

"Brooke, is your number the same?", asks Tim as we were leaving. "Yes, it is", I replied.

"Great, I'll call you sometime", he says to me but indirectly meant to Sarah. I grinned knowingly. Although he is nice guy, Sarah never liked investment bankers. Unless they have a sensitive streak and passion for black and white movies, it's unlikely they can impress her with money. She likes an artsy fartsy, poetic emo type. I prefer alpha males. Write me a poem and I'll bolt immediately.

The whole weekend flew by with non stop fashion shows. There was no time to shop, despite our initial urge for retail action grew to an uncontrollable need. Sunday night once everything ended, I found my fix in online shopping. The concept of E-commerce to me, is like sending a present to your future self. I can't wait to unwrap my own gifts when they arrive and try them on. Satisfied with my purchases, I head to sleep early for Monday tomorrow.