Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Boss?

by Nina Harrington

  ‘For the record. My decision to cancel your contract has nothing to do with what happened last night. You have every right to hold a birthday party if you choose.’

  ‘Cancel? Oh, no...’ She coughed and shook her head. ‘Freya told me that this was a top priority job. I turned work away to come here to do this. You don’t cancel at this short notice. I won’t allow it.’

  Then she whirled around and waved her arm towards the paintings.

  ‘This is your family! My grandfather started the tradition of painting portraits of every head of the Elstroms, starting with your great-grandfather right down to that one of your uncle, which my dad worked on when I was a girl. And now it’s my turn. Tradition. I like that idea just fine. You are carrying on the family tradition and so am I. So you’re having your portrait painted whether you like it or not.’

  She blinked and grinned but his reaction was to close his eyes for a second and cross his arms.

  ‘Then let me explain again. It’s very simple. I have absolutely no intention of having a painting of my face hanging on that wall and I certainly do not have the time to sit around while you sketch my wrinkles. As far as I’m concerned, you can take your fee and go home right now. Think of it as a bonus.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ she choked. ‘You dragged me all the way out here to the centre of London to do the work and now you’ve changed your mind? Is that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘I haven’t changed my mind. This was never my idea in the first place. The first thing I knew about it was when you told me last night. My sister made the arrangements, not me.’

  ‘I have a signed contract,’ Toni replied, crossing her arms to match his, her eyebrows high.

  ‘I can cancel it and you can keep your fee. Go home with my blessing.’

  ‘Just like that?’ she gasped.

  ‘Just like that. You will have your fee in the bank today. I’m sorry for wasting your time. Do we have a deal, Miss Baldoni?’

  He held out his hand and she took it. And held it and kept on holding it until he looked down and frowned and tried to pull it away.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘My job. Part of creating a portrait is making a connection with the sitter so you can capture something unique about them. I always start with the hands. Or, in your case, one hand. I like hands and yours is spectacular.’

  She gave a quick nod. ‘You like being outdoors and working for a living in hard environments. Alaska makes sense now. Yes. I can do something with that. And it explains why you’re so grumpy here in the office.’

  ‘I am not grumpy,’ he said and pulled his hand back. ‘Did you hear what I said? You’re going to have your fee. So feel free to go and do one of those jobs that you passed over to come here.’

  ‘Grumpy. Here is how it works. I sign a contract and I deliver the goods. No arguments, no discussion; that is what’s going to happen.’

  He glared at her and did the eyebrow thing again. ‘Are you always so stubborn?’

  ‘Frequently. Especially with uncooperative subjects like you. So you may as well get used to the idea, because I am painting you. Even if I have to do it from memory and press clippings. That’s the way it works.’

  She stepped back and made a square with the thumb and forefingers of both hands. ‘Oh. Would you mind doing that look again? Scowl a little more to one side. That’s super. I was looking for a scary image for Halloween.’

  ‘Double the fee if you leave now.’

  That stopped her and she clasped hold of one of the boardroom’s carved wooden chairs.

  ‘What? No. I gave Freya my word that I would do the very best work that I could. Promises mean something in my family. If I give my word that I will do something I will do it. End of story.’

  ‘Is it? Let me guess. I know a few things about families too. Something tells me that you’re desperate to prove to your father, the famous portrait painter, that you’re his equal.’

  He leant back against the wooden panels with a smug expression on his face. ‘Am I right?’

  * * *

  The words hit Toni like a slap across the face and she reeled back in a reflex action which had her gasping for breath.

  Suddenly it all became too much. Lack of sleep, the sadness of waving Amy goodbye as she drove away in a taxi, and then the harshness of this man all combined together in one mighty wave which washed over her, leaving her exhausted.

  Toni whirled around sideways to look at the portrait that her father had painted. There was no way that she was going to let Scott see how close she was to bursting into tears.

  It was several minutes before she was ready to reply in a hoarse whisper. ‘Whose family are we talking about? Yours or mine? Because I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr Elstrom, but this time you’re wrong. My father passed away several years ago. The only person I have to prove anything to is myself.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a long slow sigh. ‘My apologies. I didn’t know.’

  Toni replied with a sharp nod. ‘There is no reason why you should know. But, you see, I really am the last of the Baldoni artists and your father wants a Baldoni hanging on this wall. Which means. Me.’

  Toni half turned from the waist and risked glancing at Scott, who was looking at her with something close to respect in his eyes.

  She stood in silence for a moment and then her shoulders dropped. ‘Freya has already paid me half my fee for the portrait. I don’t want to give that money back.’ Then she shrugged. ‘In fact I have already spent it on something important—but that doesn’t matter.’

  She lifted her chin but carried on in a softer voice. ‘What does matter is that I want to deliver this portrait. I can work on your likeness from photos and sketches. But it makes a big difference if I can get my client to sit down and be fairly still for a while. I can see that might be a problem. So tell me how we can work together to make this happen.’

  Scott waved an arm around in a circle.

  ‘I cannot give you that time. Look around you, Miss Baldoni. I have just been made the head of a company which no longer exists. My father decided to close the business a month ago and make the few remaining staff redundant.’

  His fingers clasped around the back rung of a chair.

  ‘It’s going to take me months to sort out the financial situation and come up with some sort of rescue package before this building is sold to developers. Apparently, they could make at least six luxury apartments out of this three-storey building.’

  ‘Apartments? Oh, no. That’s terrible. Are they allowed to do that? Seriously?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Specialist builders can prop up the creaky outside walls and make the structure safe and strong but it will mean gutting the inside and starting again. Two hundred years of history is about to be wiped away as if it never happened.’

  ‘I see. Well, that explains something I’d been wondering about,’ Toni replied in a low voice, almost mumbling to herself before she looked up into Scott’s face to find him looking quizzically at her.

  ‘From what Freya told me, your father has been working here most of his life and took over about twenty years ago—that must be from your uncle. Yes? But he didn’t have his portrait painted. Even though he is obviously very traditional. It makes sense now. This was going to be his last chance to be painted as the head of Elstrom Mapping before the company closed. He wanted the last portrait on the wall on the day the building was sold.’

  She pushed her hands deep into her pockets. ‘That’s sad,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Sad but true. Because you’re right.’

  He stepped in front of the portrait painted by Toni’s father and they stood side by side and stared up at the young, vibrant blond-haired man whose essence had been captured in oil paint on canvas.

  ‘My uncle Neil was th
e action businessman—the dynamic and charming star who was a natural athlete and medal-winning explorer. He excelled in public speaking, making presentations and was dazzling to the media. While my father...?’

  Scott pushed his hands into his trouser pockets.

  ‘My father worked out as a boy that he was never going to compete with his older brother Neil. He preferred to stay in the background and let his brother take the limelight. So they sat down and worked it out between them. My father would stay here in the office and do the meticulous work behind the scenes while my uncle Neil travelled the world using Elstrom maps and bringing in more orders than they could cope with. It was win/win. Until my uncle was killed in an avalanche in the Himalayas. And the whole thing fell apart.’

  ‘Now it’s my turn to be sorry. He looks like a remarkable man.’

  ‘He was extraordinary. And that was part of the problem. Do you know why my father never contacted the Baldoni family? Because he never once felt that he was the man in charge. I was about twelve when my uncle had the accident and as far as my dad was concerned I was the man who was destined to take my uncle’s place. My uncle had never married or settled down anywhere long enough to have a family, although he was never short of female company. Which meant one thing. I was the heir. The man who was going to be the next head of Elstrom Mapping. My father told me on my eighteenth birthday that all he’d been doing was keeping my seat warm for me.’

  ‘Wait. Are you telling me that he never wanted his portrait painted?’

  ‘Never. It was going to be my portrait hanging on the wall next to my uncle. Not my dad. Me.’

  ‘Wow. So why...?’

  ‘He finally accepted this Christmas that it was never going to happen.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh, it’s quite simple. I walked out of this building two years ago and made it perfectly clear that I had absolutely no intention of ever coming back. That was it. Unless Freya suddenly developed a burning fascination for sea charts, the Elstrom line ended with my dad. I was out and was out for good.’

  Scott nodded to the wall and as he spoke every word seemed to come from a deep, dark place. ‘It has taken two years for him to finally get that fact into his head and admit defeat. Lars Elstrom truly would be the last head of Elstrom Mapping. There was no way he was going to get me to come back and run the business. No way at all.’

  Then he turned around to face her and leant back against the table. Head high. Eyes narrow and all business.

  ‘Do you get the picture now, Miss Baldoni?’

  FIVE

  Toni sat back in one of the boardroom chairs and tried to take in what Scott had just told her.

  Scott Elstrom didn’t want to be here one little bit. In fact he had made it clear to his family that he had no intention of ever coming back to run the business.

  No wonder he was grumpy!

  She knew what it was like to be dragged out of your normal life by a situation out of your control.

  When her parents died in the train crash she had been left utterly alone at eighteen with a ten-year-old sister to bring up.

  Scott was lucky. He still had his parents and a sister who cared about him. He could pull this off. If he wanted to.

  ‘But you’re back to stay now. Aren’t you?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘I promised my father that I would give him six months.’ Scott’s voice was flat and cold but at least he had stopped scowling at her.

  Toni pushed off from the chair and flipped both hands into the air with a big grin on her face.

  ‘Then everything has changed. Your face should be right up here on this wall next to your uncle. Six weeks or six months—it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to me. You’re the latest CEO of Elstrom Mapping and it’s my job to paint your portrait.’

  Then she rubbed her hands together. ‘Any chance of a coffee before we get started on the sketches? It’s a bit nippy in here.’

  Scott didn’t move an inch. ‘You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?’

  ‘Nope—’ she grinned ‘—I have every intention of sticking around and taking your photograph and generally making a nuisance of myself until I have all the material I need to work my magic. It’s so important to get to know the client as much as possible. So, you see, there is no way that you’re going to get rid of me.’

  He stepped forward, totally invading her space until she could see every hair of his grey and blond beard and practically feel his breath on her cheeks.

  His skin was red and chapped and his hair needed cutting but somehow Scott Elstrom rocked that master-of-all-he-surveyed look better than any stylist she knew could have pulled off.

  Any lesser mortal would have backed off. Not her.

  ‘I could pick you up one-handed and carry you outside. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ She smiled, reached out with her right hand and squeezed his rock-hard biceps, sighing in appreciation, and then her gaze locked on to his eyes. ‘But then I would have to set up my paints on the pavement outside your front door and call on all of my media friends to interview me. Just think of the TV crews and reporters who would be hassling you day and night. Wouldn’t that be a nice treat?’

  ‘Stalker,’ he replied in a low, deep voice which seemed to echo around inside her head and come out of her ears.

  ‘Grumpy.’ She blinked then instantly refocused on those startling blue eyes which seemed locked onto hers.

  Time expanded. All she could hear was the sound of their breathing and the chiming of a very old clock somewhere in the building.

  Oh. And the burning of the air between them as if it was ignited by the fierce electricity that sparked in the few inches that separated them.

  She had heard that ozone was addictive and maybe they were right because the air she was breathing now was so thick with pheromones and testosterone she could have sliced it and served it with tea.

  It was almost a relief when Scott stepped back. But, to her astonishment, he grabbed her hand with his long strong fingers and started marching towards the door.

  Was this it? Was he calling her bluff and throwing her out on to the street?

  ‘Come with me,’ he growled. ‘I want you to see for yourself why there is no time to spend hours of my life sitting for a portrait.’

  * * *

  It was an office of sorts. But it was totally unlike anywhere she had ever seen.

  Every flat or even vaguely flat surface was covered with stacks of paper. All sizes—plain, decorated, scraps of what looked like paper napkins covered in handwriting, envelopes of every description.

  Tables, chairs and bookcases were all crammed full of sheets of yellowing paper with the overspill stacked in vague piles on a faded threadbare carpet.

  There was a rounded shape in front of the window which might be a sofa because she could see curved wooden feet at either end but, instead of cushions, there were scrolls tied with string and ribbon, about twenty cardboard tubes standing on end and box after box of padded envelopes with exotic bright stamps on the outside.

  Floor-to-ceiling bookcases with glass doors lined each wall and Toni could just see through the thick layers of dust that they were crammed to bursting with double-stacked papers and books of all sizes and bindings.

  At some point a stack of thin booklets had been knocked off the desk and lay scattered on the floor where they could easily be stepped on.

  Scott released her hand with a flick and Toni gingerly stepped forward and picked up one of the booklets.

  It was a catalogue promoting Elstrom Rare Documents Restoration Services, dated 1958. The original cover must have been a deep blood-red but the colour had faded until it was a faint spotty pink. The letters were blurred and indistinct, the paper inside yellow and fragile.r />
  Replacing the booklet on top of another like it on the desk, Toni looked around at the chaos and swallowed down a lump of cold concern.

  ‘Have you been burgled?’

  ‘Burgled? No.’ He laughed. ‘This is my dad’s private office. Sorry. Was my dad’s office. Mine now. And it has been like this ever since I can remember.’

  ‘You’re kidding me. Seriously? He ran the company from this room?’

  ‘He knows where everything is. Every invoice, every receipt, and every letter he has ever written or received is in this room. You’re looking at forty years of his accumulated paperwork plus everything he inherited from my uncle, who had this office before he did.’

  ‘Wow. It’s really quite remarkable. Do you mind if I take some photographs?’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘This room. I had no idea that places like this exist any more.’

  ‘They don’t—’ he coughed ‘—not if they want to run as a business. Somewhere in that heap of unopened mail are bills which need to be paid so that the telephones and lights still work. Somewhere. I’ve been here two hours and I’ve hardly touched the surface.’

  Toni whistled out loud as she took several pictures with her digital camera.

  ‘Good luck with that little challenge.’

  Then she snuggled deeper inside her padded coat and looked from side to side. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to start,’ she whispered. ‘And this office is freezing; any chance you could turn the heating on—’ she cupped her hands and rubbed her palms together ‘—or is that bad for the documents?’

  ‘Leather and paper like the humidity. It keeps them soft. As for the heating? The temperature seems fine to me, but I haven’t had time to check the boiler and the electrics. A building this old has its quirks.’

  Toni peeked around Scott and nodded towards the desk.

  ‘How can you not feel cold? I’m standing here shivering.’

  He frowned. ‘Your hand did feel cool.’

  ‘It’s a cold day. By London standards, anyway. Is there a tea room? Kettle? Cups? Anything?’