‘Fine. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Adam abruptly.
Molly raised her eyebrows quizzically. Adam looked down at his desk.
‘Molly, something has come to my attention that could be incredibly awkward for a number of people, not least myself.’
Molly shifted in her chair. She had a feeling that the late-night cognac and indecent proposal she had envisioned weren’t on the cards tonight.
‘Something happened in the office on Friday night which was – is – quite frankly unacceptable.’
Friday? What happened on Friday? Oh God! Molly had a flashback to her boardroom tryst with Jasper, remembering his hands, his mouth, the pure sensual pleasure … but there was no way Adam could know about it – was there?
She looked at him and Adam met her gaze, his expression steely, his jaw locked and impassive.
‘Molly you know what I’m talking about,’ he said slowly.
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t,’ she said lifting her chin defiantly, ‘you’re going to have to illuminate me.’
‘If that’s how you want to play it,’ said Adam, reaching for a remote control and pointing it at a television at the side of his desk.
The picture flicked onto a grainy black-and-white image. Molly’s face was immediately recognizable, thrown back in pleasure as she lay on the boardroom table, her skirt up around her hips, her legs splayed like the arms of a clock, a man’s head between them. Adam kept the television on a moment longer than was necessary, then snapped it off.
Molly could hear the sound of her own quickened breathing filling the silence. How could she have been so stupid? She had been in that boardroom a hundred times and never noticed CCTV. She tried quickly to think of something to say, an excuse, a denial. But it was useless. She had been caught red-handed.
‘Molly, we just can’t have that sort of thing going on in the office.’
She nodded solemnly and Adam paused.
‘I take it Marcus doesn’t know?’ he asked.
‘Of course not,’ she said, the words coming out like a croak. ‘It was a one-off. I was so stupid, so fucking stupid,’ she said, biting her lips in anger.
‘I think this Friday should be your last day in the office,’ he said flatly.
‘What?’ she gasped. ‘You’re joking!’
‘Why should I be joking?’ asked Adam angrily. ‘My events coordinator fucks someone who isn’t her boyfriend, my vice president – my friend – on my boardroom table. Why should I be joking?’
She could feel her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Adam could hear it. Right now Adam Gold had the power to destroy her whole life, to wipe out the entire existence she had become so comfortable with. The Standlings, the parties, the Maserati. Everything.
‘But I thought I was doing a good job, I thought …’
She looked up at Adam, her eyes pleading. ‘You’re not going to tell Marcus, are you? Please Adam, I beg you.’ Her voice was beginning to crack and real tears spilled down her cheeks.
Adam glanced away for a moment, shaking his head. ‘I won’t. For now.’
Molly breathed a sigh of relief.
‘But my loyalties are to him, Molly,’ continued Adam. ‘And if I get even a whiff that you’ve screwed around on him again, not only will I tell Marcus about your little extracurricular activity, I’ll get you blackballed from so many companies in London, you won’t be able to get a job in this town shovelling shit.’
‘Thank you, Adam, it will never happen again, I promise you.’
‘Don’t thank me,’ said Adam, looking at Molly with disgust. ‘Just get out.’
‘What do you mean, you haven’t told Marcus?’
Karin was furious. How could he not tell him? Men could be such idiots. She and Adam were sitting at the best table in a fabulous new chic French restaurant in Chelsea, and he’d made her evening by telling her he had just fired Molly, but then gone and spoiled the whole thing with some sort of weird twisted male logic.
‘But what would it solve, honey?’ said Adam, filling her glass with water which she drained almost immediately. ‘If she’s telling the truth and it’s a one-off, then there’s no point telling him. Marcus has had a run of bad luck with women, but he seems to really like Molly. If she’s a serial cheat, well then he’ll find out soon enough, but I’d rather it didn’t come from me.’
Karin couldn’t believe it; how had Molly been able to secure Adam’s silence? With sex? No, he wouldn’t do that – would he? She tried to put that thought out of her mind. What irked Karin the most was that it had taken such a huge amount of planning. Molly was such a slacker, Karin knew that she wouldn’t bother to fact-check or take references on anything. If she had, Molly would soon have discovered that HangDog Productions didn’t actually exist and that Jasper Goodman, the man she’d fucked on the boardroom table, wasn’t a gung-ho party planner with an impressive CV and a Rolodex of society contacts. He was Jonathan Gooding, an out-of-work actor and sometime escort who would do anything for money and who had deceived Molly Sinclair beautifully. Damn it! If only Adam had told Marcus. After Molly’s conniving in Monaco, there was nothing Karin would like better than to see the dreadful woman out of the picture. Well, almost nothing.
‘Don’t let Molly Sinclair put you in such a bad mood. She always seems to rile you,’ said Adam as the waiter placed their food in front of them.
‘I just have a lot on my mind,’ said Karin truthfully.
‘I hope this isn’t still to do with me not coming to St Tropez, is it?’ asked Adam, raising a crystal wine goblet to his lips. ‘Karin, this refinancing is crucial. It was the only time I could get all the guys from the bank together.’
She shrugged, smiling. ‘You know I’m not one of those demanding women who insists their boyfriend be there for every minor life triumph.’
‘Hardly minor. Karenza is now an international brand.’
‘Not before time,’ she said, raising her glass to his.
She swilled the contents of her glass around before she put it back on the table and looked at Adam intently. ‘I met Victor Chen in St Tropez. He wants to buy the company.’
Adam put his knife and fork down. ‘A serious offer?’
‘As serious as these things are. He wants to take the company mass prestige, move production out to the Far East, bring down prices, increase stock. Basically he’s proposing to have Karenza in every department store from Manchester to Manila.’
‘Well, that’s one business model for the company,’ replied Adam.
‘Although I suspect you may have other ideas?’
A waiter came to fuss around them, refilling Adam’s glass with the restaurant cellar’s best white wine, and filling Karin’s with still water.
Karin paused again. ‘He also tried to sleep with me,’ she said.
‘What?’ snapped Adam, prompting a nearby waiter to lift his head to see what was going on. ‘Where? At the shop?’
‘No. He invited me to his villa for dinner.’
Adam glared at Karin, his face a mixture of anger and jealousy, which was exactly the response Karin had been hoping for.
‘And you went? I turn my back for a moment and you’re running off to some guy’s fucking villa to talk.’
‘Adam. It was to talk business. You know how it works.’
‘Of course I know how it works,’ he spat. ‘He wanted to screw you and he tried to seduce you with promises of a global business.’
Karin flashed him a wry smile. ‘And you know how it works so well because …?’
Adam looked at her, fuming. Then he shook his head and snorted with laughter. ‘Touché, Karin Cavendish,’ he said.
Karin leaned over and touched his sleeve. ‘Adam, I didn’t sleep with him. And I don’t want him to buy the business. But what I do want is fast expansion: roll out the lingerie, add another dozen shops within two years. I want to keep the company high-end, but sell on a much larger scale – do that and the private equity companie
s will be falling over each other for a buyout.’
Adam was mulling this all over quietly. ‘You’ll need external investment,’ he said.
Karin nodded. ‘But I’d rather not go back to Victor Chen.’
Adam looked at her critically. ‘I’ve offered once. I believe the response was that you wanted complete control.’
‘I still do,’ said Karin honestly.
‘Honey, that’s not the way it works,’ he said, trying hard not to sound patronizing.
‘Look, Adam, Victor was good for one thing,’ said Karin, ignoring his curtness. ‘He’s made me think about cutting my costs.’
Adam smiled. ‘Ah, I sense a plan coming on.’
Karin leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘As you know, the lingerie range launches before Christmas. The designs are done, but they haven’t gone into production.’
‘You’re thinking about moving it out to the Far East, aren’t you?’ nodded Adam.
Karin shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ve been too much of a snob.’
Adam repressed a snort and Karin smiled at him. ‘I’ve been looking at samples and there really is very little difference between product made in Italy and China. Knickers are made to come off, so does anybody really care where they come from? I’m going to cancel the order with the Italian factory and go elsewhere.’
‘I thought you said provenance was everything.’
‘Let’s just say I won’t be compromising our reputation.’
Adam met her gaze. ‘What do you want, Karin? My investment? You know Midas is about to float. I’m not sure now is the right time for me.’
‘This is pocket money for you, Adam,’ she said flatly. ‘I want to issue non-voting B shares in the company in return for a five-million-pound cash injection.’
‘Non-voting?’ queried Adam.
‘I know what I’m doing,’ she replied, her voice steely. ‘Do you want to make money or not? In two years’ time, you’ll be bought out for ninety million dollars minimum.’
‘You drive a hard bargain, Karin Cavendish,’ smiled Adam, his eyes pooling with lust.
‘It’s what you love about me,’ she smiled, running the tip of her toe up his leg.
‘Just promise me you didn’t fuck Chen,’ he said, motioning the waiter for the bill.
‘I didn’t have sex with him,’ Karin whispered in the quiet, rarefied atmosphere of the restaurant.
‘Come on. Let’s get out of here,’ she smiled wolfishly, as they both got up from the table. ‘There’s something we should do.’
32
As Summer had no idea of where Ricardo Lantis was taking her for dinner, she had dressed neutrally in a pair of black pants and a dark green silk vest. It was conservative for her and she felt a little old, but she didn’t want to be too sexy either. On the dot of eight, a black Bentley convertible came to pick her up. The driver introduced himself as Samuel and politely asked, as it was a warm night, if Summer would like the top of the car down. Summer had grinned but declined the offer, preferring to sit in darkened anonymity as they wound through the streets of London, finally gliding to a stop in a grand residential street in Belgravia.
‘This is Mr Lantis’s house,’ said Samuel, indicating an impressive Georgian house as he opened her door. Rather apprehensive, Summer walked up to the polished black front door and knocked.
An olive-skinned woman of about forty answered. She was too smartly dressed for a housekeeper, thought Summer. She was polished and haughty and a little frightening.
‘I am Dita. Good evening,’ she said, stepping back to allow Summer to enter. The cream walls of the hall were lined with framed photographs of Ricardo in all sorts of exotic locations – on the ski slopes, on a yacht, driving a sports car – and in each, his arms were around all sorts of glamorous blondes, brunettes and redheads.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked Dita. She beckoned to a butler who was already pouring a glass of champagne.
‘You must think I am terribly rude,’ smiled Dita, pressing the glass into her hand. ‘I haven’t introduced myself. I am Ricardo’s cousin. I am afraid Ricardo has just called to say he is going to be a little late. Work is his life,’ she sighed. ‘If something needs doing he will not stop until it’s done. Why don’t you go through and meet the others?’
Others? thought Summer, following Dita into a magnificent drawing room. Beautiful tapestries and art lined the walls and at one end was a walnut bar stocked with expensive-looking liqueurs in decanters. Stretched across the plump ivory sofa were two slim, beautiful girls, who were chatting and drinking from crystal tumblers. A third girl, with waist-length black hair and a backless dress was giggling as she tried to play the black grand piano. They all looked up as Summer entered, but none of the girls seemed surprised to see Summer.
‘Hi. I’m Tasha,’ smiled the prettiest of the three, ‘that’s Rachel and Becki.’ Tasha was about Summer’s age. She had long wavy chestnut hair swept up into a high glossy ponytail and a body that could carry off skin-tight black leather trousers and a fitted white T-shirt that had a diamanté palm tree on the front. For a second Summer wondered if they were Ricardo’s sisters. Or even daughters.
‘Are you coming out with us tonight?’ asked Tasha brightly.
‘With Ricardo?’ said Summer cautiously.
‘Sure,’ laughed Tasha. ‘Actually he’s just called, did Dita tell you? We’re meeting him at the club now. There’s no point leaving here for an hour or so, so make yourself comfy and we can all get to know one another.’
Summer was beginning to wonder what she had got herself into.
Sitting in a VIP booth of the Athenaeum, a cavernous basement club made to look like a nineteenth-century opium den, Summer wondered when it would be polite to make a getaway. It was almost midnight. They hadn’t left Ricardo’s house until 10 p.m. and Ricardo himself had only showed up an hour later, when he’d given her ten minutes of chitchat about working late and how fantastic she looked before he had begun to circulate around the rest of the VIP area. Summer wondered how she had managed to get the wrong end of the stick. Suddenly, the loud Euro-pop stopped and the DJ played a cheesy fanfare. A waitress walked towards their table with a jeroboam of Cristal, putting the huge, £5000 bottle of champagne in front of them with a flourish. Summer cringed. She had seen this ritual before at Les Caves du Roy in St Tropez, but on home turf it seemed an even more vulgar display of wealth. Tasha, however, seemed delighted, clapping her hands and holding out her glass as the waitress struggled to open the huge bottle.
‘Are you coming back to the house later?’ she asked Summer, her eyes sparkling.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Summer. ‘Will Ricardo’s cousin be there?’
‘Who?’ asked Tasha.
‘Dita.’
‘Oh, Dita’s not his fucking cousin!’ laughed Tasha, running her hands through her ponytail. ‘She’s his … hmm …’ Tasha paused and frowned, putting her finger to her lips. ‘She’s his fixer.’
‘What, like a concierge?’ asked Summer, taking the drink Tasha offered.
‘Of sorts,’ smiled Tasha a little patronizingly.
Summer looked over at Ricardo sitting squashed in a booth with Rachel on one side, Becki on the other. She noticed that Ricardo had his hand right at the top of Becki’s thigh, her short skirt having ridden up so that Summer could almost see her knickers. Summer felt her cheeks flush, feeling stupid.
‘Dita is a madam?’ she said, realizing she sounded like a prude.
‘Easy tiger,’ laughed Tasha. Discreetly she opened a pill box, tipped a small pyramid of coke onto the back of her hand and snorted it. She shook her head, ponytail swishing in the air.
‘Dita isn’t a madam, silly. But she kind of helps Ricardo. I mean, when you’re that successful and rich, you don’t have time to sort out a social life, do you? Think about it.’
‘Well, he found the time to ask me to dinner,’ replied Summer moodily.
‘You’re upset about tonight, aren’t you?’ said T
asha, offering her the pill box. Summer shook her head. She was feeling light-headed enough, drinking on an empty stomach.
‘What did you think tonight was going to be? Hearts and flowers and some candlelit dinner for two?’
Tasha rested her hand on Summer’s knee. ‘I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean it to sound that way. Ric obviously likes you, but tonight he wanted to party a little bit. He’s probably had a really hard day. But listen. Stick with him, yeah? He’s so much fun, and so generous. He’s offered to pay for this fashion design course I’ve been desperate to do.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Becki says she heard that if you become one of his favourite girls, he’ll pay for your flat, car, holidays everything. It must be true. At Easter we all went to his chalet in Courcheve which was mental.’
Summer didn’t want to be involved with anything mental. In fact she had made up her mind to leave, but she felt in a very awkward position. Ricardo was Molly’s friend, after all; she didn’t want to embarrass her mother. Just then, Ricardo came over to her, motioning Tasha out of the way.
‘Drink up, Summer,’ he said, handing her a cocktail. ‘What about another glass?’
She sipped the drink politely, but Ricardo noticed Summer’s reluctant expression. ‘I can see the look on your face and I completely agree with you. It’s dull, here. Dull, dull, dull.’ He clapped his hands together and Rachel, Becki and Tasha, plus a couple of other girls Summer hadn’t noticed before, all stood up, ready to leave.
‘Actually Ricardo, I’ve had a fun evening, but I think it’s time I got going,’ said Summer as they walked towards the entrance.
Ricardo wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her out to the pavement. ‘Come on, honey,’ he urged. ‘The house is only five minutes’ drive away. I have some great cognac.’ He moved closer towards her, out of earshot of the other girls, his manner becoming reassuringly more serious. ‘Don’t you think I wanted a nice dinner tonight, too? I was really looking forward to good food, good conversation, but what can I do when friends come round to the house?’ He looked round at the girls and shrugged. ‘Next time I’m going to tell Dita that she must send them all home.’
Gold Diggers Page 24