Читать книгу Boardrooms of Power - Heidi Betts - Страница 10

THE more Gabriel thought about it, the better he liked the idea of Rose accompanying him out to the island. He was utterly convinced that, hurricane or no hurricane, neither of them would be in any physical danger and somehow the thought of having her for company was very appealing.

‘We would probably be able to make some serious inroads into sorting out the niggles that have been blighting this whole business for months,’ he pointed out. ‘And having you around would mean that I could work twice as fast because I wouldn’t have to do any of the transcribing myself. Four days and I reckon we could have the matter under control.’

Rose looked at him as if he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. ‘You’re expecting to work while a hurricane rages outside?’

‘We don’t know that the hurricane is going to hit the island.’

‘But the weathermen seem pretty convinced.’

‘Weathermen are notoriously wrong when it comes to reporting on the weather. In fact, in any other line of work the sheer inaccuracy of their reporting would get them sacked on the spot.’

Rose opened her mouth to protest at Gabriel’s vast sweeping assumption but he was already moving on, developing his plans out loud.

‘Of course, I realise that with this course ahead of you and the glittering prospect of a bright new career, you might no longer have the necessary dedication to tackle a job that’s going to take you out of the country…’

‘You know I would never give anything but one hundred and one per cent to the job!’

‘Except when it happens to fall at inconvenient times…’

‘There will be no one on the island, anyway,’ Rose pointed out dubiously. Her knowledge of the place was pretty sparse, confined to the brief dispatches she had read over the months, but mostly she knew of the hiccups in the nuts and bolts of the building work and little else. ‘Who do you plan on talking to about what’s been going on with the site if there’s no one there?’

‘Of course there’ll be people there! You don’t think they’re conveniently going to disappear while there’s a hurricane watch on because they all just happen to have second homes somewhere else, do you?’

Rose reddened and glared at him. ‘I’ll go and sort the flights out.’

‘Book two.’

Rose paused by the door and stared him down, which was a very difficult thing to do when her heart was thumping like a steam engine inside her chest. ‘I’m afraid I just won’t be able to make it, Gabriel…’

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s not this man, is it? Getting in the way of your job even though he’s only been on the scene for two minutes…?’

‘Of course not!’ At the back of her mind, she knew there was absolutely no imperative to defend her decisions but Gabriel’s pointed silence accompanied by that infinitesimal raising of his eyebrows was enough to get every self defensive mechanism in her body rearing up into immediate action. ‘Joe would never dream of being chauvinistic enough to try and dictate how I conduct my working life…’

‘No. I forgot. He’s the perfect gentleman.’ Gabriel grinned and got a well-deserved glower in response.

‘I can’t come with you because…’

‘It would be incredibly helpful…’

‘Because…’Rose ignored his velvety interruption ‘…there’s too much to do here, especially as I’ve had to take a bit of time out with all the interviewing…’ The pointless interviewing, she wanted to add.

‘I’m the boss. I’m excusing you for the next four days. There’s too much to gain, if you accompany me, in terms of speed…’

‘You could take Ralph…Surely someone on the board would be better served there with you…’At this point she had virtually jettisoned the sensible argument of how exactly work would be conducted if they were having to shore up the building with sandbags or whatever. Hard to transcribe emails in gale force winds and twenty foot waves.

‘Somehow I don’t think Ralph would be overly impressed at having to play secretary to me out there. Anyway, I doubt his ability to type is as quick as yours…I just don’t get it, Rose…You’ve never had a problem accompanying me on trips before…’

‘Not to storm-battered islands in the middle of the ocean…’

‘Which brings us back to those damned over-pessimistic weathermen. Why don’t you book the passages over and if you do decide to come I would be very grateful.’

He returned his attention to whatever was absorbing it on his computer screen and Rose, taking the hint, left his office, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Okay, she would book the two passages. He had given her permission to change her mind. The wasted fare would be peanuts to him. Not only could his conglomerate absorb it but he could personally absorb it as well and not even miss it from his bank account.

Everything was booked for first thing the following morning. She had checked on the Internet and gathered that the likelihood of the hurricane sweeping over the island was fairly remote. They probably would be able to get some vital work done.

She paused at the easy way she had assumed herself to be accompanying him.

So, she didn’t want to go but he was right. She had never complained before about going with him to meetings, overnighting in the same hotel as him. If she made a point of complaining now and refusing to go, his sly little brain would soon start whirring into action and he would either mistakenly assume that she had morphed into a bimbo whose private life was influencing her professional one or, worse, he would think that she was scared to be in his company.

In the very dark recesses of her mind crept another taboo thought. The notion that the weather might defy the odds and she knew, deep down, that if he was to find himself in any trouble she would want to be by his side.

Where that left Joe, perfect gentleman and epitome of everything a mother would like her daughter to bring home, was a question she would deal with later.

Four days wasn’t long and it might well be less, depending on circumstances.

It was what she told herself the following morning as she slung clothes into her pull-along suitcase. Neither of them were taking anything that would have to go into the hold. Too much opportunity with the various changes en route for it to go missing in action. Gabriel would also be bringing his laptop computer, although whether they would be able to link up to a phone line was anybody’s guess.

In any event, Rose packed notebooks and pens. The old-fashioned tools were often the best under pressure.

Work kept them busy for the better part of the flight to one of the bigger islands. Rose read the reports at a furious pace. Together they discussed what could be done to shore up the naked part of the site if bad weather struck. When they weren’t working, Rose feigned sleep. And then the tail-end of the journey was lost in the confusion of changing planes and finally taking a boat over with the boat man reminding them constantly that they were mad to be undertaking a trip when the weather was going to change. Hurricanes rarely affected that particular spot and the man seemed unnaturally enthusiastic about the possibility of one.

By the time they finally hit their destination, Rose was practically dead on her feet. She had started the day at a little before five and had had very little to eat.

Nightfall on the island, in conjunction with very few street lights, meant that she could barely appreciate the scenery. Not that it made much difference when all she wanted to do in the back of the prehistoric taxi as it bumped its way over the single track road was to nod off and go to sleep.

How did Gabriel manage to keep going for so long without any signs of wear and tear? He didn’t even look grubby! Maybe because he had chosen his clothes cleverly.

He was saying something to her now and, in reply, Rose yawned widely.

‘Not the kind of response I usually evoke in a woman,’ he murmured, to which she yawned again and he patted his shoulder, an irresistible invitation for her to rest her head on it. Which she would, she decided. Just for a minute or two, until she became accustomed to the sticky heat which was quite different from the soaring summer temperatures in England.

She awoke to the sensation of the clanking car shuddering to a halt and her eyes flew open.

Horror of horrors, she’d dribbled! There was a damp patch on his shoulder and when their eyes met, he shot her a crooked smile.

‘Don’t worry. It’s human.’

Rose pretended to misunderstand. ‘What is?’

‘I actually found it quite sweet, somehow innocent, for you to be resting your head on my shoulder and dribbling ever so slightly.’

Rose’s mortification followed her out of the car but, as soon as she gazed at the work in progress in front of her, every hesitant self-conscious emotion fell away.

She was staring at something so ambitious and so impressive, even in its half-finished state, that she gasped aloud.

‘Like it?’ Gabriel was just behind her, bending down to murmur the question into her ear.

‘There’s still a way to go,’ she said prosaically.

‘Coward. Why don’t you just admit that you love it? It’s an architectural adventure.’

‘Who designed it?’

‘I did.’

‘You?’

‘No need to look so shocked.’ Gabriel lightly ushered her in with his hand under her elbow. ‘You’re not the only one with a few secrets up your sleeve.’

Rose was too stunned by what she was seeing to argue the toss with him.

The original gloriously opulent hotel with its sprawling network of state-of-the-art condos, which had been the original plan and which, in fact, was still accessible on the computer, along with all the other documents, had been transformed into what appeared to be three dwellings, either very close together or else linked in some way. Each had its own individual turret and encircling them was a broad patio, still in its primary stage but which, he was telling her, would eventually be weatherproof hardwood.

The land which had originally been intended for the condos would become a nine hole golf course—a very challenging nine hold course, he hastened to add, not for the faint-hearted. A short but killer links course, benefiting from the sea breeze that blew along the coastline.

Right at the moment, the sea breeze was still gentle, although the driver had told them that people had already started leaving the island if they could and, if they couldn’t, they were battening down the hatches and preparing for the worst, getting tinned food and bottled water in for the duration.

Rose anxiously tried to work out how secure the structure would be in a raging hurricane. It looked pretty solid and almost completely finished in terms of its final build but, since she had no idea about foundations, she couldn’t say for sure.

‘Anything that can move has been stowed away safely,’ Gabriel said, reading the direction of her concern. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, there won’t be any flying benches or planks of wood.’

‘The sky’s so blue…it’s hard to think that a hurricane might be on the way.’

‘I know, but in this part of the world the weather can change in a matter of minutes. Isn’t that right, Junior?’

Junior, the driver, was at least seventy. A very sprightly and knowledgeable seventy. They entered the building to a long, informative monologue on the weather patterns of the Caribbean.

Rose was the first to stop and stare. The façade had been impressive enough, but inside was a fertile imagination in full flight. She had expected square, unfinished brick and cement buildings, maybe with the occasional homage to detail that would distinguish them from the run of the mill. Not so. Black and white tiles were the backdrop for a dramatic water feature that dominated the far corner of the entrance hall. The rooms on the ground floor, Gabriel was explaining to a speechless Rose, would be dedicated to the kitchens, the restaurant and all the various domestic necessities that made a place run efficiently, including a health spa. The floor above housed some of the bedrooms and sitting rooms which could be used by the guests at any time of the day or night. The feeling would be one of a home away from home.

‘I don’t know anyone who has a home like this,’ Rose murmured, taking in the detail in the woodwork and the artistry in the way the place had been designed. ‘You thought of this yourself?’

‘I’m a frustrated architect,’ Gabriel said lightly, but when Rose glanced across at him he wasn’t grinning. ‘Leave the bags, Junior, and you head back to your house. Start packing the corned beef away.’ He grinned at Junior, who launched into a protest that was swept aside. ‘We’ve got food. We’ve got drink. We’ll be fine. You can come out when the worst is over.’

Rose was dimly aware of this exchange of conversation as she ventured further into the villa, noting that it was in a far more advanced state of completion than she had expected. So much for her fears for Gabriel as he hunkered down in a building with no roof, missing walls and absent plumbing, at the mercy of the unforgiving elements.

At least here everything was finished. The tiled lobby led through to splendid wooden floors, the windows were beautifully dressed with colonial-style shutters, there was paint on the walls and ceilings. All that seemed to be missing was the water from the water feature that spanned one corner of the entrance hall and the prerequisite plants.

‘I had no idea the place was fully operational!’ Rose said accusingly. ‘Where’s Junior?’

‘Gone to take care of his family.’

Which just left the two of them. Alone. In the urgency of the travel plans and the hectic nature of the trip, Rose had not paused to contemplate in any real depth what the situation would be when they finally made it to their destination. She’d assumed, in her naïveté, that the hotel would be uninhabitable and they would therefore book into whatever inn was available. But the villa was inhabitable, minus anyone else in it. Her heart slowed and for a few seconds she felt giddy.

‘He would have stayed. In fact, he would have brought his wife and three of his daughters to take care of us but that really wouldn’t have been fair, would it?’

‘Of course not.’ Lots of empty rooms and just the two of them. Sharing a meal. Waiting for the impending storm. What if the current failed, as it undoubtedly would? She had visions of the two of them, huddled in a dark room with just one another for company. Not an ideal situation for safe, casual chit chat about work. The giddy spell threatened to become full-blown.

‘We’d better go and check the kitchens, see what’s there and then we’ll sort out sleeping arrangements.’

Outside, Rose could hear the sound of the surf and the little noises of night creatures going about their business. It reminded her of Australia, which was a depressing thought because that in turn reminded her of the fact that she shouldn’t be here with Gabriel because, actually, she should have left his employ to seek greener pastures elsewhere.

He was already striding off and Rose hastily followed. She felt tired and hot from the long trip but a shower would come later. A shower and a long rest so that she could recharge her batteries for whatever lay ahead the following day.

They passed through various rooms, all in a state of virtual completion.

‘I thought you said that there was a lot of work still to be done, that you needed to be here just in case something happened to the structure if the hurricane struck?’

They had finally arrived at the kitchens, which were equipped but in a basic fashion. There was a fridge, obviously one used by the workforce when they were in the villa, and various other cooking utensils, all bearing the signs of use. No oven but something portable on which to cook very simple meals. A table of sorts.

‘All this will go, eventually.’ He went to the fridge, pulled it open and was pleased to see some perishables, including cheese, eggs and butter. He knew what would be in the cupboards because he had spoken to the foreman as soon as he had decided to go to the island and had instructed him to stock up. Of course, at the time, he had not known that Rose would be with him.

Gabriel was still slightly surprised that she was there, although he knew why. Despite her show of laying down laws, Rose was a perfectionist who was deeply devoted to her job. It was simply the way she was built and he admired her for it. Whatever she did, she would do wholeheartedly. He had appealed to her Achilles heel, namely her sense of duty in sorting out what had been a thorny problem for both of them for a very long time. The villa had had its fair share of setbacks and she couldn’t resist his plea to accompany him to the island so that they could sort things out. Unlike most other women, actually all the other women he had ever known, the fact that a hurricane might rear its ugly head would not have put her off. She wasn’t easily spooked.

And she looked bloody amazing considering she had spent most of the day in various forms of travel, not all of them comfortable. The hair which had started out loose was now dragged back into a pony-tail that was in the process of unravelling but still managed to look sexy and she couldn’t have been wearing make-up because her face looked as scrubbed as it had before they started the trip. She was also sweetly disgruntled. And probably hungry.

‘What will?’ Rose gave him a sulky look and wanted to tell him that she didn’t really care, at least not at that precise moment in time.

‘You’re hungry.’

‘No, I’m not. I’m fine.’

‘Don’t be a martyr, Rose. There’s nothing more annoying.’

‘Oh, right. I’ve travelled halfway across the Atlantic because I thought you needed me to help you sort out this place and suddenly I’m being a martyr and getting on your nerves.’

‘I’m going to fix you something to eat and you’re going to say thank you very sweetly and stop being defensive.’

‘All what will go…?’ Rose asked grudgingly, as she watched Gabriel take cans and packets out of cupboards. Fair’s fair, she thought. She had cooked for him once and so he could jolly well return the favour, especially considering he had manoeuvred her over here on false pretences.

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at her and, not for the first time since they had left England, Rose wondered how it was that he could manage to look so fantastic after hours of travel. He wore what looked like linen trousers of some indeterminate colour and, although they were creased, they looked expensively and tastefully creased, and the dark shirt similarly looked tastefully dishevelled. Frankly, it was irritating. Especially when she felt like something the cat dragged in.

‘These makeshift appliances.’

‘I thought you were building a hotel here, Gabriel. I had no idea you had changed the spec.’

‘It is still a hotel. Of sorts. A hotel on a far more personal scale than was originally intended.’

‘There’s nothing on the computer…’

‘You probably haven’t caught up with all the paperwork. This place is no longer under the umbrella of the company. It’s now my personal baby, so to speak.’

‘Your personal baby?’

‘Of course, it will still remain a rentable option, but that won’t be its primary function.’

‘You got me over here on a project that has nothing to do with work?’

‘You chose to come over.’

For someone whose kitchen was full of the latest in high-tech gadgets, he seemed very adept at making do with the basics and was concocting something on the makeshift stove that smelled very good even though it was the product of some cans and a packet of pasta.

Rose realised that he had broken off what he was doing to look at her and she flushed. ‘I thought you needed me on a work level.’

‘I do. Things still need to be sorted out here.’

‘But it has nothing to do with work.’

‘What’s the use in nit-picking, Rose? There are no planes leaving in a hurry. The bottom line is you’re here and labouring over whether you should or shouldn’t be is a complete waste of time. When we get back to London, I’ll make sure to compensate you financially.’

‘It’s not about the money,’ Rose said stubbornly, but now she felt petty and small-minded. And who was she kidding, anyway? She was curious and interested to see the place he had decided to adopt as his own, curious and interested to have that little bit more insight into the man he was.

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Gabriel raked his fingers through his hair in pure exasperation. ‘Why don’t you try taking a little responsibility here, Rose? You knew the plans had been altered. I assumed you’d read the financial reports and worked out that the whole project had been transferred out of the company and into my own private banking.’

‘I…’ Skimmed over the financial report. She had expected something and so hadn’t checked to see if things had altered on that front. ‘Oh, you’re right. I’m here now. So why don’t you fill me in on what made you change your mind about…the purpose of this place…?’ Amongst his network of other financial concerns, Gabriel owned a small but elite chain of hotels in offbeat places. This island was perfectly suited for the purpose. Out of the way, not a tourist in sight, small enough to be exquisite but not so small that amenities taken for granted were absent. Tourists, Rose had discovered over years of dealing with their complaints, liked quaint, which was a lot different from uncomfortable. Quaint was the overhead fan with the air-conditioning option, as opposed to a stand up fan with open windows for added breeze.

‘I got involved with the project, simple as that.’ He brought over two plates of food. Pasta, some sort of tomato sauce smothered in cheese, chunks of bread, butter. It smelled delicious and, when Rose hungrily tucked into it, tasted as good as it smelled.

‘You get involved with all your projects,’ she pointed out. ‘This tastes great, by the way.’

‘Glad you think so,’ Gabriel said dryly. ‘Appreciate it, though. I don’t make a habit of cooking for women.’

Rose thought that that was stating the glaringly obvious. Home-cooked meals were on a par with domesticity and domesticity was not something he liked his girlfriends to experience. Fun, yes. Excitement, yes. Domesticity, absolutely no way.

‘You were telling me why you changed your mind on this project.’

‘We ran into problems about two months ago with the design. I sacked the architect working on it and decided to give it a go myself.’

‘Because you’re a qualified architect?’

‘Because I…’ Gabriel looked at her, fork in one hand.

‘Because you…?’ Rose’s gaze was curious.

‘I have a degree in engineering.’ Gabriel shrugged. ‘And art was always something I rather…liked…Or is that not a very macho admission…?’

‘It’s an extremely macho admission.’ Rose could feel her mouth go dry as their eyes met. ‘Don’t you know that there’s nothing sexier than a sensitive man?’

‘Is that your way of telling me that you find me sexy?’

‘It’s my way of saying that art is a wonderful thing to be interested in.’ She could feel herself perspiring as his eyes roamed over her flushed face. ‘I…I know you like art. I just never realised that you enjoyed it in a practical manner…’

‘Art was one of my A levels. Along with maths, French and physics.’

‘So you could have been a painter…’

‘Not quite.’ Gabriel shot her a crooked smile. ‘I lacked the creativity, but combined with my maths, and later my engineering degree, I discovered it could be quite practical when it came to design. Of course, there was no place for that in the world of corporate business, but it certainly came into its own when I sacked Jones from this project.’

Rose hadn’t realised that she had finished eating until Gabriel rose and took the plate from her, ordering her to sit down while he tidied. After all, he pointed out, she was there out of the goodness of her heart.

‘So all of this…is your creation?’

‘Most of it. What do you think?’

‘Well, I suppose we all need to do something in our spare time,’ Rose said prosaically as he seemed in danger of letting her interest go straight to his already oversized ego. ‘Tell me about it.’

Rose forgot that she was hot, tired and sticky. Gabriel cleared away the dishes while she sat at the table and hung on to his every word. By the time he had made her a cup of coffee, with long life milk because there was no fresh milk on the island, she was living his dream for the project, wanted to see it eventually as a sprawling ranch-style villa that could accommodate all the members of his extended family, and the rest.

She wanted to ask whether his vision included his own family and kids, but that would have been a question too far.

‘Tomorrow’s a big day,’ Gabriel said in conclusion, after Rose had bombarded him with every question under the sun. ‘If the hurricane’s going to strike, it’ll strike within the next twenty-four hours. We should both think about getting some sleep.’

Rose felt stiff when she stood up. ‘I shall need to have a wash or a shower. Is everything plumbed in?’

‘Plumbed in and raring to go. As I said, the hold-ups have been irritating and lengthy but the basics are in, which is a blessing.’

He had advised her to bring her own towel, which she thankfully had, and her own soap. Also lots of mosquito repellent. There were no beds, just mattresses on the ground, which had been brought in specially for them. The workmen would use them afterwards, Gabriel assured her, so they wouldn’t go to waste. And there was also electricity, although he warned her to expect nothing if the hurricane struck the following day. For good measure, candles had been provided.

After this short speech Rose wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but the room he led her to was more than adequate. No furniture, but large and airy with an enormous en suite bathroom attached to it. As with the rest of the place, barring the entrance hall, the floor was of rich wood. There was even emulsion on the walls and shutters on the French windows that led directly on to the outside porch.

‘When it’s up and running,’ Gabriel explained, ‘there will be hammocks here and there on the porch so that people can relax out of the sun but still in the fresh air.’

‘Your idea?’

‘With a little input from my sisters, who claim to need relaxation more than me as they have children.’ He walked into the bathroom and gave it the once over. ‘There’s no mosquito net,’ he told her, lounging against the wall, ‘and no air-conditioning, so watch out for insects. You can burn one of those coils—’ he nodded in the direction of the ground by the bathroom ‘—but they’re not one hundred per cent effective. My advice is to sleep with the French windows shut. Just leave a crack in the windows open to allow a through draught and you can leave the door open as well. You won’t die of the heat. It cools nicely at night. I’ll be up early tomorrow. I’ll wake you. You’ll probably be tired but we might need to start securing things and getting prepared for the worst.’

‘Right.’

‘Are you scared?’

‘Of what?’

‘Creepy crawlies? Night time in a foreign place? The threat of a hurricane?’

Rose shrugged and shook her head. Nothing was as threatening as what she felt in the presence of the man leaning indolently against the wall in front of her. The strangeness of the situation was as nothing compared to the sudden, terrifying knowledge that they were alone in this place.

‘Brave lady,’ Gabriel murmured and Rose thought she could detect an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

‘Not every woman likes playing the damsel in distress.’

‘Most don’t have to,’ Gabriel commented wryly. ‘They naturally freak out at the thought of insects and thunder storms…Well…’ he pushed himself from the wall and strolled past her ‘…good night. If you need anything…you know where I am…in the room next door…’

‘Thanks, I won’t.’

And she would make sure to lock the door, just in case he got it into his head that she was really a damsel in distress underneath it all, that she really needed him to check on her to make sure she wasn’t cowering under the sheet in fear of the mosquitoes. He felt guilty, she suspected, at dragging her here under false pretences, whatever he said about the fact that she should have known the situation, and guilt might well make a gentleman of him.

She locked the door and then locked the bathroom door as well, although her shower was quick and cold. The plumbing might be up and running but it wasn’t a comfortable experience, although she did feel clean and refreshed afterwards.

She had to stick her wet towel half out of the bathroom window to dry naturally, as towel rails had not yet been fitted, and the ground was wet due to the lack of a door on the cubicle. But the mattress, basic though it was, was comfortable and through the open window the sounds of night-life were oddly soporific.

Rose fell asleep quickly. When she woke up, abruptly, with the prickling sensation that something wasn’t quite right, it took her a few seconds to orient herself and make sense of her surroundings, and then it occurred to her exactly what was wrong.