Finally, I skim the new emails in my inbox. There’s one from Neil Wallace inviting me to brunch and separately explaining that there might be a potential sale of the Platinum Spring Hotel Group to a company based in Abu Dhabi but it’s highly confidential at this stage. Margaret has sent me a calendar appointment for the meeting I’ve moved to tomorrow and Gregory’s invitation to his interview with The Times Magazine is waiting for a reply.
To: Ryans, Gregory
From: Heath, Scarlett
Sent: Monday 9 Nov 2015 9:28
Subject: Re: Times Mag Interview (1pm)
Gregory,
Many thanks for the invitation to your interview today. Unfortunately, I have a brunch meeting which is likely to last until at least 1pm. Is this something in relation to which you need legal advice? If so, I could take a call before 11am to discuss.
Regards,
Scarlett Heath
Director
Saunders, Taylor and Chamberlain LLP
To: Heath, Scarlett
From: Ryans, Gregory
Sent: Monday 9 Nov 2015 9:29
Subject: Re: Times Mag Interview (1pm)
Scarlett,
Whilst it would of course be pleasant to have you watch me be interviewed by The Times Magazine, I have perhaps misled you with the subject of my invitation. There will be time during the interview and photographs this afternoon when I would like to discuss the potential joint venture with Shangzen Tek. It would be a helpful and efficient use of my time.
Regards,
Gregory Ryans
CEO GJR Enterprises
To: Ryans, Gregory
From: Heath, Scarlett
Sent: Monday 9 Nov 2015 9:30
Subject: Re: Times Mag Interview (1pm)
Gregory,
I could be at your office as soon as possible after my brunch meeting but unfortunately 1pm may be a push. I could accommodate an alternative time this week to discuss the joint venture if that would be convenient?
I have also noticed that your previous email was sent from GJR Enterprises. I had originally understood the Shangzen deal was to be executed through your company Eclectic Technologies. Please would you let me know the correct entity as I may need to run a new conflict search?
Many thanks,
Scarlett Heath
Director
Saunders, Taylor and Chamberlain LLP
I purposefully don’t tell him that I’ll be at the Savoy for my brunch meeting, knowing he’s partial to gate-crashing my client meetings, or at least having Jackson stalk me on his behalf.
To: Heath, Scarlett
From: Ryans, Gregory
Sent: Monday 9 Nov 2015 9:30
Subject: Re: Times Mag Interview (1pm)
My apologies, Scarlett, the joint venture will be run through a new company (part of what I would like to discuss with you) but I will be completing the deal on behalf of GJR Enterprises.
Regards,
Gregory Ryans
CEO GJR Enterprises
To: Heath, Scarlett
From: Ryans, Gregory
Sent: Monday 9 Nov 2015 9:31
Subject: iPhone
Regards,
Gregory Ryans
CEO GJR Enterprises
When I take my iPhone from my tote, sure enough there’s a message waiting for attention.
I’ve moved the interview to 3 p.m. I’d like you to come. We can go for dinner afterwards.
I quickly fire a message back. I want to be irritated with his demands and my own acquiescence but the thought of seeing him is making my stomach flutter. It’s half past nine and I miss him already.
I’ll come to the interview but only because you’re paying me to.
Are you quoting Pretty Woman to me?
I grin, remembering torturing him with his first ever showing of Pretty Woman. Mmm how I’d like to be curled into his chest with popcorn and ice-cream instead of texting him from my desk.
I’m impressed. One viewing and you know the words already. I usually do yoga on Mondays...for future reference...but I forgot my kit this morning. We have to talk about Shangzen, I can’t just indulge your wealthy-man arrogance and not put time on my clock. Dinner would be nice.
Another beep makes me chuckle.
You have a lot of attitude this morning.
I quickly message what I promise myself is my last text. You deserve it! Then I rest my phone face down on my desk but I can’t resist it for more than five seconds when another message comes through.
Aurora.
I beam, no longer cross or even wanting to be. Then I pick up my desk phone and dial Amanda’s extension.
“You’re so lazy!” she says as she answers, referring to the fact my office is about ten paces from hers.
“Yes but I’m busy. I forgot my kit for yoga, I’m sorry. Can we go tomorrow?”
“Don’t be sorry, I only go because you drag my arse. Tomorrow, never, whenever, fine.”
“Great, let’s do the morning session.”
“Urgh,” comes through the line before the phone is slammed down.
* * *
Ten forty-five comes around too quickly. I wrap myself in my coat and gather what I need to meet with Gregory so I can go direct from the Savoy.
“Margaret, I’m going to the brunch meeting,” I call, hanging my head around the corner of my office to the secretaries’ station.
As I’m walking along the corridor to leave, Jon makes his way towards his new office and I almost trip over my own feet at the sight of his.
“Get in here,” I say, inclining my head to his office where Amanda is actually at her desk doing work. I take in the view once again, his cheap grey suit, overly skinny tie and, worst of all, tan shoes. “Jon, a word to the wise, if a partner catches you in brown shoes with that suit, you’ll be sent home to change.”
Amanda gasps dramatically, sitting bolt upright in her desk chair.
“Never mind them. I’ll send you home for offending my office. You’re not a footballer, Jon, you’re a lawyer.”
“Just fix them for tomorrow. The partners really will make you change,” I say, trying to soften the blow of Amanda’s theatrics.
Jon looks like a child who just had his favourite toy ship snatched by a bully. “They’d really send me home?”
I nod apologetically. “Afraid so. What you wear is the first impression a client gets of you.”
“Insta-judgment.” Amanda pouts.
“Right, I’m off to a meeting. I won’t be back this afternoon so I’ll meet you at Iron Monger’s Row in the morning, Amanda. Six thirty.”
“Urgh, fine. Fitness freak.”
Neil is already waiting in the executive chauffeur car when I make it out of the office. He’s wearing a black, hard-hitting, pinstripe three piece suit that tells me two things. First, the stakes are high. Second, he’s going to flaunt his Head of Corporate title.
“Good morning, Neil,” I say, settling into the cold black leather of the car.
“Scarlett, how are you?” He shifts his upper body to face me, his lanky legs trapped by the passenger seat in front of him.
“I’m well, thank you. And you?”
“Yes, yes, very well. We’re going to meet with Mr. Ghurair. He’s the CEO of his family’s construction business. Extremely wealthy. His family own the most profitable construction company in the United Arab Emirates. Demand is high and they’re taking advantage. They’re looking to acquire in the UAE and they want to break into more western markets.”
“Are they big enough to float?” I ask, hoping for an initial public offering.
“Undoubtedly, but they tend to keep things in the family in the Middle East so
I don’t foresee an IPO anytime soon.”
“That’s a shame,” I say, genuinely disappointed.
“Right. Are you ready to bring your A-game, Scarlett?”
My brows rise unintentionally. Neil Wallace is asking me if I have ‘A-game’?
“Alright, alright, I’m just trying to be up with the kids and all that.”
I snort a too-loud laugh as Neil holds open the door to the kerb outside the Savoy. “Down with the kids.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s down with the kids, Neil.”
“How very peculiar. Perhaps I’ll keep my colloquials on the down-low over brunch.”
I laugh again. “Colloquials? Down-low?”
“It’s my son, I’m trying to fit in with him but I really haven’t the slightest idea how to mesh with a teenager.”
“Neil, stick to archaic, it suits you.”
“Tell my son that. Come on then, lady, pull yourself together.”
I stop laughing and replace my upturned lips with an expressionless line then straighten my coat.
“Ready?” Neil asks.
“Ready.”
The concierge dips his top hat as we approach the Savoy, one of London’s oldest and finest hotels. We walk through grand mahogany doors onto a black-and-white tiled floor. The Savoy never fails to impress me with its sheer grandeur and elegance. A butler makes a beeline for us. Savoy Butlers are something of an institution in Britain—grey button-up coats, top hats, leather gloves and regal accents.
“Can I help you with your files, madam?”
“Please. We have a brunch reservation but I’d like to leave these. They’re confidential so I’ll need to—”
“I understand entirely, madam. We’ll store them in a locker for you and I’ll bring the key to your table.”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
“And your coat?” he asks, taking the ring-binders from my arms.
I unravel myself from my coat and place it across his free arm, then straighten my skirt and blazer as Neil hands over his knee-length black coat and the red scarf that drapes loosely around his neck.
A second Savoy Butler leads us to our table in the restaurant. “Mr. Ghurair, your guests.”
“Abdulla, it’s an absolute pleasure to see you again.” Neil beams, offering a hand. “This is Scarlett Heath, the colleague I mentioned to you.”
“Ah, yes, nice to meet you, Scarlett.”
“And you, Abdulla,” I say, shaking his hand. “When did you arrive in London?”
“I arrived Saturday. I have a good friend who invites me to his football when I visit. He takes care of me.”
Abdulla remains straight faced beneath his black moustache, despite his friendly tone.
“Shall we?” Neil says, gesturing with a hand for us to sit.
The waiter steps forward to pull out my chair but before he gets to it, I flash my eyes to his and subtly shake my head. He clasps his hands together at his lower back and takes a step away from the table as we sit. Then he moves to place our linen napkins across our laps, starting with Abdulla. I smile my thanks when I catch his eye. I appreciate being wined and dined and having doors held open for me as much as any woman but this isn’t the kind of meeting to draw attention to my gender.
We’re presented with leather-cased brunch menus and remain silent for the short minute it takes for us to choose an order. I don’t look for long, opting for the first brunch plate I like to prevent any unnecessary delay or show of indecisiveness.
“Madam, are you ready to order?” The waiter pulls a pad of paper from his black trousers and a pen from the pocket of his burgundy waistcoat.
“Yes. I’ll have eggs Benedict on brown, a fresh orange and an Earl Grey tea, black with a slice of lemon. Thank you.”
He moves to Abdulla then Neil and takes our menus with him as he leaves us to talk.
“Abdulla, I was enlightening Scarlett as to the family business on our way here. She was very impressed, as I always am. I think I’m right in saying you’re looking to acquire in the UAE and Europe?”
“Yes. Correct. Our focus is Middle East for now. We do not want to be the biggest construction firm in the UAE, we want to be the construction firm in the UAE.”
I mentally scoff at the thought of the fun competition authorities would have with an attitude like that in Europe. Neil shoots me a warning glance and visibly relaxes when he’s confronted with my best fake impressed/intrigued smile.
Our drinks are placed around the table. Neil takes a sip of his black coffee after stirring in three brown sugar cubes—it must taste like tar—then gets back to business.
“So tell me, Abdulla, what are your immediate needs?”
Abdulla places his glass of sparkling water back on the table in front of him, then rests his elbows on the cotton cloth and interlocks his fingers.
“I have three companies that I would like to buy. Two are small family businesses that I know well. I can work with the owners. The third is a competitor. I do not like the family, I do not like what they stand for and I do not want them to have an...ah...say in how I run my business.”
“Then you either need to negotiate hard and get them out for as little as possible, or we need to think about differentiating the share classes, weakening their power to vote on matters of business,” I say, pausing for a drink of Earl Grey. “Weakening their power might be enough of a deterrent and they might decide to walk away but failing that, at least you wouldn’t relinquish control, as such.”
Abdulla nods but annoyingly looks to Neil for confirmation.
“She’s right,” Neil says, although it does little to dampen my irritation.
Three waiters place our respective breakfasts in front of each of us in perfect unison and I tuck into my eggs Benedict with decadent hollandaise, all the while counting to ten in my head. Neil clears his mouth of a forkful of smoked salmon before speaking again.
“We can talk about the detail of how you want to structure the acquisitions, Abdulla, but what sort of time frame are you working to? Three deals is a lot of work, of course quite how much work depends on the size of company involved, the level of due diligence required and any unexpected issues that crop up.”
“Yes. I recognise that. You are here because I am told good things about your firm, Neil, and I like you but this is your opportunity to tell me you can meet my needs. If you cannot, another firm will get my business.”
“Of course.”
“I would like to complete at least one deal by end of year.”
I almost choke on my mouthful of English muffin. My eyes flick to Neil’s over my glass as I soothe my throat with cool orange juice.
Neil’s face is firmly schooled into a poker expression. “Calendar year end or tax year end?”
“Calendar. The other two by tax year end.”
It’s no good, orange won’t stop me from choking this time. I can feel Neil’s eyes burning into me as I cough into my napkin. There’s no way we can commit to that, at least not without more detail.
“We can do it,” Neil blurts. “It’ll take a lot of resource but that’s the benefit of a firm of our size and stature, we have resource in abundance.”
No we don’t! We’re already snowed!
“Yes. I understand that my needs will not be cheap but I think we can come to arrangement.”
“What did you have in mind?” Neil asks.
“I would like to have someone in control from Dubai...on the ground, I think is how you say. I would like a link between someone in my company and your team in London.”
Neil draws back from his breakfast. He places his knife and fork down and leans back into his chair thoughtfully. “You want a secondee?”
“Yes.”
“Full time, in Dubai?
”
“Yes.”
I’m holding a forkful of egg midway between my plate and my mouth when I feel two sets of eyes blazing into me.
“Me?” I ask.
“You’d be a perfect fit,” Neil says, his eyes asking me whether I’ll do it.
“It would be good opportunity,” Abdulla adds. “And in Dubai, the sun always shines.”
I can’t deny it would be a fantastic opportunity. The wealthiest construction company in the UAE. Three more deals likely to follow. It’s a huge opportunity. “How long?” I ask.
Abdulla purses his lips and wobbles his head from side to side. “We need to discuss money but I think six months. I would like someone in Dubai for deal one in December, then to stay on for the others. They complete February and March then tidy up. Yes, six months, or bigger, more.”
Six months. Dubai. A massive CV builder. I could be giddy if I let myself. But what about Gregory? Leave him for six months, maybe longer. A court case for something I did. A house to sell. Making sure Sandy is okay.
“Why don’t you send me some details of the companies, Abdulla, then I can make a better assessment of fees and ways of helping you to meet your time frames? We can have a call to discuss or I can come out to Dubai for another meeting.”
“Yes. I agree. I would like to have a plan in place by month end. If not, I go elsewhere.”
“I understand completely.”
I’m grateful for Neil taking control as my head begins to feel like it might explode. I really can’t take any more issues, messes, questions, things to think about. A dull ache begins to build at the bottom of my skull. Can I really pass up an opportunity like this for a man I’ve known for a matter of weeks? A man who I’m completely and utterly besotted with but who I really don’t know is committed to me. A man who right now could be with me through a sense of obligation alone. But the way he looks at me, the way he touches me. He calls me his light. How can I doubt that he wants to be with me? Then again, why would he want to be with plain, ordinary Scarlett Heath?
“Madam? Are you finished?”
I straighten my knife and fork to six o’ clock on my half-eaten plate of food. “Yes, thank you.”
“We’ll take the bill, please,” Neil says, nodding to the waiter hovering by our table. “This is on us, Abdulla.”
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