Читать книгу Bargaining With The Boss - CATHERINE GEORGE, Catherine George - Страница 7

CHAPTER ONE

A BITING east wind blew flurries of snow across rolling uplands where Northwold Breweries blended with such ecological care into its Gloucestershire surroundings. The various specialist buildings and linking walkways were masked by skilfully landscaped banks and trees, and normally the sixty-acre site was a green and pleasant place. But on this particular January morning the stark white view from the managing director’s office resembled a lunar landscape.

Eleri Conti arrived early, as she always did, and went into James Kincaid’s office with her usual glow of anticipation for this first, private part of the day alone with him.

He was standing at the window, tall, loose-limbed, dressed in one of his dark custom-made suits and a flamboyant tie as usual. But when he turned his face wore a grim, haggard look so dauntingly different from usual that Eleri’s smile of greeting died a sudden death. In her favourite black gabardine suit and white shirt, her dark hair caught back with a large ebony clasp, she faced him across the desk as she’d faced him at this hour almost every working day for the past year. But today something was obviously wrong. The atmosphere was bleak enough to rival the day outside.

‘Good morning, Eleri. I think you’d better sit down.’ He waved her to a chair.

‘Good morning, Mr. Kincaid.’

He sat staring down at his desk in brooding silence while Eleri grew colder by the second as all kinds of worrying scenarios crowded her mind, not least the loss of her job as personal assistant to the managing director.

At last James Kincaid squared his formidable shoulders and looked up, his eyes sombre. ‘There’s no way to make this easier. I wish there was. In short, Eleri, I’ve been informed that someone at this branch of Northwold leaked information about the Merlin takeover. As a result someone else made a nice little killing on the market.’

Eleri went white. ‘And you are accusing me of leaking the information?’ she asked in utter disbelief.

‘No!’ James Kincaid shook his head vehemently, raking a hand through his hair. ‘Or at least not accusing. I’m merely asking if you know anything about it.’

‘Which is the same thing.’ Eleri had to exert rigid self-control to remain erect in her chair. She felt physically sick, as though the man opposite had dealt her a body-blow. Which, by doubting her integrity, he had. And worst of all she felt searingly hurt—because the accusation had been made by James Kincaid, for whom she cherished feelings kept strictly hidden. No one, either in Northwold or in her family, had the least idea that she was the victim of that tired old cliché: the secretary in love with her boss.

What, she thought bitterly, did she find so attractive about the man? He was far from classically handsome, with swarthy skin, unruly brown hair, forceful nose and a wide though well-cut mouth. Straight, dark brows above deep-set pewter-grey eyes warned the onlooker that this was no man to suffer fools gladly, and he wore his expensive clothes carelessly, as though from the moment he put them on he never gave them another thought. But, in comparison with James Kincaid, for Eleri all other men suffered. Willpower kept her utterly still in her seat as James took up a pen, rolling it between his fingers. Familiar with every little mannerism of his by heart, it gave Eleri deep satisfaction to see that he was affected—if only a little—by stress.

At last he looked up and began to explain rapidly. ‘Eleri, just before the takeover went public on Tuesday, a trader in a London bank did a swift, profitable bit of dealing—buying Northwold shares at the old price then selling them a short time later when they rose quite sharply once the news was out. It was a relatively modest sum, and the trade only attracted attention because my sister’s husband works for the same merchant bank. Up to that point the takeover was top secret.’ He paused, his reluctance apparent as he added, ‘Of the office staff here, you alone knew about this beforehand. And I know that a friend of yours works at the bank in question.’

Eleri stared at him in bitter disbelief. ‘You really believe I would pass information to someone in a position to make use of it?’ Her eyes flashed coldly. ‘My friend would never do such a thing—even if I had been stupid enough to be so—so—’

‘Indiscreet?’

‘Unprincipled,’ she corrected stonily. ‘I told no one about the takeover, Mr Kincaid. No one. And I deeply resent your suspicions.’ She jumped to her feet, but he waved her back to her seat.

‘Sit down, please.’

The outer door opened and Bruce Gordon, the technical director, came in like a whirlwind. ‘James, I need—’ He stopped suddenly as he looked from James Kincaid to Eleri. ‘Sorry.’

‘Give us a few minutes, Bruce,’ said James tersely, and the other man nodded, backing out hurriedly.

Eleri sat in silence, making no attempt to disguise her hostility as James Kincaid went on with his explanation.

‘My brother-in-law,’ he said heavily, ‘works at Renshaw’s, in the City.’

Eleri stiffened. Renshaw’s was a merchant bank. And her friend, Toby Maynard, worked there on the trading floor. To mask her dismay she took the war into the enemy’s camp. ‘Did you tell your brother-in-law about the takeover, Mr Kincaid?’

His eyes hardened. ‘No, Eleri, I did not. Nor would it have mattered if I had. Sam would never have acted on it unlawfully.’

Knowing indignant protestations were useless, Eleri searched in her memory for some chance remark she might have let fall to Toby. Suddenly her face cleared. The last time she’d seen Toby she hadn’t even known about the takeover! Her personal involvement had been in the final stages only.

‘Until last week,’ she said crisply, ‘I knew nothing about the takeover. As you know very well, since you were the one who informed me one night last week when we were working late together. I’ve spoken to no one at all on the subject. And particularly not to the—the acquaintance in question, because he was in Val d’Isere on a skiing holiday until yesterday. Until last night I hadn’t spoken to him for three weeks. He rang me last night, as soon as he arrived back.’

‘If you mean someone by the name of Maynard, I’m afraid you were misinformed. He arrived back several days ago.’

Eleri’s eyes flashed coldly. ‘You’re wrong! Besides, how could you possibly know Toby’s the one—?’ She stopped, biting her lip.

‘You’ve obviously worked that out for yourself,’ said James wearily after a long, uncomfortable pause. ‘Sam told me. Maynard works for him—though of course he has no idea Sam is related to me, and therefore connected with Northwold, which is more to the point.’

The silence in the office deepened, emphasised by the usual morning sounds outside as the administration block filled up with people arriving to complain about the weather and get on with the business of the day. Eleri was deaf to it all. She sat rigid, her mind going round in circles.

At last she got to her feet, her face bleak below the smooth black hair. ‘Would you excuse me for a few minutes, please, Mr Kincaid? I need to make a phone call.’

He rose, nodding. ‘By all means. I suggest you drink some coffee and come back in half an hour. We’ll discuss this further.’

Eleri closed the connecting door behind her and sat down at her desk, then picked up her phone, punched out the number of Renshaw’s Bank in the City of London and asked for Toby Maynard. When told he wasn’t available, Eleri asked for Victoria Mantle instead.

‘Vicky, it’s me. Is Toby in today?’

There was a pause before her friend’s reply extinguished Eleri’s last flicker of hope.

‘Eleri,’ said the other girl, sounding miserable, ‘Toby’s gone.’

‘Gone? What do you mean? Gone where?’

‘Gone as in sacked, told to clear his desk and scram. Sorry, love. Toby’s been a total idiot.’

‘I’ve only just heard he came back early from Val d’Isere.’

‘Didn’t you know?’ Vicky swore colourfully. ‘He’s been back for days. Look, he’s probably at home. Ring him. Give him hell. I’ve got to go. See you tonight, love. Bye.’

Eleri waited for a moment, pulled herself together, then rang Toby’s flat and listened, frustrated, to the recorded message. ‘It’s Eleri, Toby. See you later,’ she said swiftly, then put the phone down and stared blankly at the pile of unopened mail in front of her, feeling as though her world were falling apart. At last, with sudden decision, she typed quickly on the keyboard of her computer, waited while the letter was printed, then signed it. She pressed the button on her intercom, asked James Kincaid if she might come in, then went through the communicating door and crossed the large, orderly office.

Without a word Eleri handed over the letter, and waited. James read the few terse lines of resignation then jumped to his feet, glaring at her.

‘I flatly refuse to accept this.’

Her chin lifted. ‘You must see that in the circumstances it’s impossible for me to work here any longer.’

He made a swift gesture of negation. ‘Just give me your word you had nothing to do with the leak and we’ll forget all about it.’

Eleri stared at him, incensed. “‘Forget all about it”?’ she retorted, no longer caring what she said. ‘You accuse me of being a party to insider trading, and then expect me to carry on as if nothing had happened? Always supposing,’ she added bitingly, ‘that I managed to convince you I was blameless, of course.’

He scowled impatiently. ‘Don’t talk rot, Eleri. I assume you’ve tried to contact your friend?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘He no longer works for Renshaw’s.’

‘That was inevitable.’ The grey eyes held hers relentlessly. ‘You tell me you haven’t spoken to him on the subject, so Maynard obviously got the information from someone else.’

‘He doesn’t know anyone else at Northwold,’ she said unhappily.

‘Then you must admit I had no choice. I was forced to ask you about it.’

‘Of course. So in the circumstances, Mr Kincaid, I don’t have a choice either. I shall leave immediately. One of the other girls will fill in for you until you can find a replacement.’ She smiled coldly. ‘After all, it would hardly do to keep me on in a position of confidentiality. I’d never thought about leaking information for profit until you gave me the idea. How could I trust myself in future?’

‘Nonsense,’ he snapped, and jumped to his feet. ‘Listen to me, Eleri. Your word is good enough for me. If you say you had nothing to do with it I believe you. And I understand your reaction. It’s only natural you’re angry. But don’t act on impulse. Take time to reconsider.’

For a moment Eleri was tempted. But anger and bitter hurt stiffened her resolve. She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. It’s out of the question.’

James Kincaid moved swiftly around his desk and seized her hand. She recoiled, startled, and he dropped her hand as though it burnt him.

‘I’m not into sexual harassment,’ he assured her coldly.

Eleri flushed. ‘Of course not. I’m—on edge.’

‘I merely meant to assure you that any reference you require is yours for the asking, if you’re adamant about resigning. But I strongly advise you to change your mind. Go off now for the weekend, think things over.’

‘I intend to find out what actually happened, certainly, but I won’t reconsider. Nor will I need a reference,’ she added.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’

‘A job is ready and waiting for me any time I say the word. With people who will never doubt my integrity,’ she added, with a cold little smile.

‘Eleri, I don’t doubt your integrity,’ he said with emphasis. ‘I regret this as much as you do.’

‘I doubt that,’ she said bitterly, and went from the room, closing the communicating door behind her.

Bruce Gordon beckoned her into his office.

‘James told me what happened—in strict confidence, of course,’ he said. ‘Go to that boyfriend of yours, beat the truth out of him, then come back here and get on with the job, my dear.’

‘I’ll certainly do the first bit, but I won’t come back, Mr Gordon.’ Eleri shrugged, her face set. ‘Even if I prove beyond all doubt that I said nothing about the takeover I can’t work here now. But thank you for the vote of confidence,’ she added warmly as James Kincaid came in.

‘Eleri, come into my office before you go, please.’

‘Of course.’

Eleri packed up her belongings, tidied her desk, deposited the morning’s mail with one of the other secretaries, then went in to James Kincaid, who was standing at the window again, looking out on the blizzard conditions outside.

‘You’ve been here for four years, Eleri,’ he said, turning to her. ‘This is a hell of a way to leave.’

‘Yes. It is,’ she agreed.

‘When my predecessor handed over the baton he said he had only one piece of advice to give me. “Make sure you hang on to Eleri. She’s worth her weight in gold.”’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Damn good thing he’s not here at the moment.’

‘Mr Reeder and I got on well together.’

‘Does that mean you’ve found it harder to work with me?’

‘No.’ She looked away. ‘I believed we had a good working relationship too, Mr Kincaid. Until today.’

‘We did. We do. I flatly refuse to look on this as final. Find out what happened,’ he ordered, ‘then come back to work on Monday.’

Eleri almost gave in, then and there. She liked her job. And she cared for James Kincaid even more. But his suspicions had cut like a knife. Yet in one way she had cause to be grateful for them. They had pushed her into the resignation which was the only cure for terminal hankering after a man who thought of her solely as a piece of efficient office equipment. ‘I won’t do that, Mr Kincaid,’ she said at last. ‘The mere fact that an official explanation is necessary makes it impossible for me to stay.’

He shook his head irritable. ‘The explanation is purely for me. I’ve told no one about this, other than Bruce Gordon, and I only told him because he was about to offer me physical violence for upsetting you.’

Eleri smiled wryly. ‘He’s known me a long time.’

‘I’ve known you a fair time myself—long enough to find your involvement in anything shady hard to believe.’ He eyed her moodily. ‘If you hadn’t mentioned a friend at Renshaw’s it would never have crossed my mind.’

She looked at him blankly. ‘But the friend I told you about is a girl—Victoria Mantle. We grew up together.’

He frowned. ‘Then where the hell does Maynard come in to it?’

‘Vicky introduced him to me a few months ago at a party.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘Toby’s just a friend. I wasn’t even aware you knew anything about him.’

‘I didn’t. My sister’s husband, Sam Cartwright, told me Maynard confessed he got the information from someone at the brewery, but wouldn’t disclose the name. I put two and two together—and got five,’ he added, his jaw tightening.

‘I can see why you thought it was me,’ she said bleakly.

‘You say it wasn’t, so I believe you. Nevertheless, I was forced to ask for an explanation, Eleri.’

‘I want one, too,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’m leaving right now for London to get it.’

‘I can’t tell you how much I regret all this, Eleri,’ said James heavily. ‘Do you really have another job waiting for you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, resigned. THE be welcomed with open arms.’

‘And no reference needed.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m curious. You speak Italian, of course. Will the new job use your bilingual talents?’

‘More or less.’ The telephone interrupted them, and Eleri answered it automatically. ‘Mr Kincaid’s office.’

‘Camilla Tennent,’ said a light, feminine voice which had become all too familiar to Eleri over the past year. ‘Is James there?’

Eleri handed the phone over. ‘Miss Tennent,’ she announced, and left the room to collect her belongings, feeling deeply depressed. James Kincaid was a clever, ambitious man, relatively young for the post he held, and with his sights very obviously set on a seat on the Northwold board. He’d been at the Gloucestershire brewery only a year, but already he’d streamlined the plant to an efficiency which surpassed the other Northwold operations. She would have liked to stay, to be part of James Kincaid’s success story. But Toby Maynard had put paid to all that in the space of a few minutes’ trading.

Before leaving, she rang her mother. ‘I’m leaving for London early.’

‘I thought perhaps you wouldn’t go in this weather,’ said the familiar lilting voice. ‘Drive carefully to the station, cariad. When are you coming back?’

‘I’m not sure. I’ll ring and let you know.’

‘Don’t forget. You know what your father’s like.’

‘Who better?’ said Eleri dryly. ‘Must dash. See you soon. Bye.’

Then she rang Vicky to give her appalled friend the news. Afterwards she took one last look round her office, said goodbye to her colleagues on her way out of the administration block, then left to drive to the station, thirsting to confront Toby Maynard. She kept mulling over his treachery in the train, cursing the day she’d ever laid eyes on him. Early in life, disaster had taught Eleri to keep to strictly platonic friendships with the relatively few men she knew. Toby was young, fun to be with, and had taken her out sometimes when she spent weekends at Vicky’s London flat, but Eleri had always slept in Vicky’s spare bed afterwards. Her relationship with Toby had been pleasant, but unimportant. Yet, unbelievably, it had cost her the job at Northwold.

When Eleri left the train in London she took a taxi, hoping Toby would at least be able to provide her with some hot coffee. Wine was usually more available than milk in his smart Chelsea flat. Toby preferred to eat out. Even his breakfast cappuccino and toast had been, until recently, bought en route to Renshaw’s to eat at his desk.

Toby was not at home. Eleri ground her teeth in frustration, and was halfway down the street on her way to the Underground, and Vicky’s flat in Ealing, when Toby came loping into view, laden with grocery sacks. He looked tanned and casually elegant in a hooded ski-jacket and thick jogging pants tucked into costly leather boots. Normally he often looked haggard, like most young men in his profession, but his holiday had smoothed away the telltale signs of stress, and even dressed for a snowy day he looked immaculate—as always. He smiled in delight, and tried to kiss her cheek.

‘Eleri, you’re early—hey, what’s the matter?’

She pushed him away, glaring. ‘You’ve actually got the nerve to ask me what’s the matter?’

He thrust flopping, expensively cut fair hair back from his face, looking sulky. ‘Oh, hell. I suppose you rang me at the bank.’

‘Yes, Toby, I did exactly that. You weren’t there, so I spoke to Vicky—’

‘And she gave you all the dirt, I suppose.’ He unlocked his door, eyeing her morosely. ‘She told you I got the push?’

‘Of course she did. Not that it came as a surprise.’

He glared at her indignantly as he ushered her inside. ‘Why not?’

Eleri controlled her temper with effort. ‘Apply the little grey cells, Toby!’

He sighed. ‘I suppose she told you about my little profit-making venture.’

‘Actually, no, she didn’t.’

‘Really?’ He shrugged. ‘All I did was take a chance. I’d been unlucky lately, El, I needed to recoup.’

‘Recoup?’ Eleri stared at him stonily. ‘What for, Toby? A Ferrari instead of your Chelsea Tractor?’

‘You got that stupid name from Vicky, I suppose!’ he snapped. ‘It’s a Range Rover, and I’ve no intention of getting rid of it.’

‘So what did you want the money for? But never mind that. For starters, I heard you came back on Monday, not last night.’ Her dark eyes speared his. ‘It doesn’t matter a toss to me when you came home, Toby. But why on earth lie about it?’

He reddened. ‘I was going to tell you about it today. But—oh, blast, you assumed I’d just got back, so I left it. Why the fuss?’

She advanced on him like a tigress. ‘Don’t worry, Toby,’ she bit out when he recoiled, ‘I’m not going to hurt you, but I am going to make a “fuss”, and you are going to listen.’

‘Can I put this stuff away first?’ he said, backing away in mock alarm.

‘Yes, of course. And I hope you bought milk. I’m dying for some coffee.’

A few minutes later they were seated on opposite sides of the fireplace where Toby put a match to the logs for the blaze he liked—as much for image, Eleri suspected, as to keep warm.

‘So carry on, Eleri,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Make your fuss. Though I could do without it at the moment.’

‘Tell me what happened first.’

He eyed her mutinously, then shrugged. ‘In a nutshell, I gambled and lost.’

‘But gambling’s your job.’

‘My job, sweetheart, is to make money for Renshaw’s. Only recently I began to lose it more than make it. I began to get panicky—bad news for a trader. Another significant loss, and I was in the mire.’ He stared at the crackling flames. ‘Then in Val d’Isere I met a girl.’

Eleri was unsurprised. Although Toby enjoyed himself more with a bunch of men-friends than with women, he liked girls as pretty accessories to take to parties—and to bed. But when Eleri, right from the first, made it plain bed was never an option where she was concerned, Toby, surprisingly, had accepted it without question.

‘Go on,’ she said quietly.

‘Her name’s Arabella Pryce—fabulous skier and great fun. She was actually a chalet girl at the place the gang was staying. Quite a coincidence, really, because I’d met her before when she was a kid—I was in school with her brother Julian. Anyway, Bella and I got on like a house on fire from the start, and—well, you know, one thing led to another—’

‘Spare me the details, Toby,’ said Eleri wearily, looking at her watch. ‘And hurry it up. I’m catching a train soon.’

He stared at her in astonishment. ‘But you’ve only just got here! Dammit, Eleri, surely you’re not dumping me just because I had some fun on holiday?’

‘No,’ she said with perfect truth. ‘But it’s a contributory factor.’

‘It didn’t mean anything,’ he said in consternation. ‘I only brought Bella’s name in to it to explain getting fired—’

‘How did a holiday fling get you fired, for heaven’s sake?’

‘I’ll tell you if you’ll let me finish!’ He shook his hair back. ‘To cut a long story short, I boasted a bit about juggling with millions in my job, and Bella said what a shame I was on holiday, because she had a hot tip to give me. About the Merlin takeover the following Tuesday. Her family own Merlin Ales. Or did.’

‘So you leapt from her bed and caught the next plane home!’

‘I didn’t do anything of the kind! I merely flew back on Monday instead of yesterday,’ he said, injured. ‘It seemed the perfect way to recoup my losses—I wasn’t even out for personal profit.’

‘How very high-minded of you. But aren’t you leaving something out, Toby?’ she asked.

He frowned. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘It was Northwold who took Merlin over, not the other way round,’ she said angrily. ‘And just in case it slipped your mind, I work for Northwold. Or did until today. Your little escapade cost me my job.’

Toby stared at her in horror. ‘What? How the hell could it do that?’

‘They think your inside information came from me.’

He swore colourfully and at some length. ‘What can I say, darling? I never thought about you.’

‘Which is glaringly obvious! You know someone called Sam Cartwright at Renshaw’s, I believe?’ she demanded.

‘Damn right I do. He’s the chief executive—the swine who told me to clear my desk,’ said Toby bitterly.

‘And although you gallantly shielded Miss Pryce by withholding her name, you did say the information came from the brewery. But you forgot to say which one.’ Eleri glared at him in fury. ‘Sam Cartwright happens to be the brother-in-law of James Kincaid—the man who was my boss until this morning. The boss who concluded I was your source!’

‘The man fired you because of me?’ Toby flung himself on his knees in front of her and caught her hands. ‘Eleri, I’m so sorry.’

‘He didn’t fire me. I resigned.’ Eleri freed herself and sat up straight. ‘Cut the drama, Toby. Penitence doesn’t suit you.’

He jumped up and stood over her, the picture of misery. ‘What a mess. I wish I’d never set eyes on Bella.’

‘Toby, don’t try to shift the blame.’ Eleri eyed him with distaste. ‘The lady was indiscreet, maybe, but you were the one who acted on the information.’

‘Don’t rub it in!’

‘What will you do about a job now?’

‘I’ve got contacts—in fact I’m seeing someone on Monday.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘Old school chum.’

Eleri shook her head. ‘Someone may strangle you with that old school tie of yours one day.’

‘Is there anything at all I can do to put things right for you?’ he said, sobering.

‘No fear. You’ve done enough already.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Right. Ring for a cab for me, please, Toby. If I leave in a few minutes I’ll make the next train home.’

‘What’s the point of going home?’ he demanded, looking so crestfallen she almost laughed. ‘I thought you were staying with Vicky as usual. We could go out to dinner, then see that new Branagh film if you like, and tomorrow I’ll get tickets for the theatre—’

‘You do that, by all means. But not with me.’ Eleri shrugged into her coat, then handed him his key. ‘Our platonic little arrangement—pleasant and diverting though it was—is terminated as of today.’

‘You don’t mean that!’

‘Oh, but I do.’ She smiled up into his sulky, good-looking face. ‘You’re a clever lad in a lot of ways, Toby—Cambridge first in Maths included. But the key word there is “lad”. You need to grow up a bit.’

He coloured angrily. ‘I’m not that much younger than you!’

‘Not in age, maybe. Otherwise you’re still a baby,’ she assured him acidly. ‘By the way, Toby, isn’t there something you should be asking me?’

He stiffened, eyeing her apprehensively. ‘Er—what, exactly?’

Eleri laughed in his face. ‘What did you think I meant? Wouldn’t it be good manners to enquire about my own plans now I’ve lost my job?’

‘Oh, hell—you make me feel like such a worm,’ he muttered, reddening. ‘But someone with your experience shouldn’t find it hard to get another job.’ His blue eyes widened. ‘This Kincaid chap you work for wouldn’t withhold a reference, would he?’

‘I’m afraid he might,’ she sighed, wanting him to fry a little. Her smile was as wistful as she could make it. ‘But don’t worry about me, Toby. I’ll get by. Somehow.’