Читать книгу Guilty Pleasures - Tasmina Perry, Tasmina Perry - Страница 18

‘How are you bearing up?’

Roger popped a slice of tender Welsh lamb into his mouth and pulled a face.

‘I can’t say I’ve been delighted by the events of the last few weeks,’ he replied sourly. Roger and William Billington were sitting in the dining room of Mark’s Club, the establishment Mayfair restaurant where Roger had been coming since he was old enough to sign a cheque. William had been Milford’s banker for more than twenty-five years, a role he had inherited from his father before him, but the two men were more than just business associates, and in fact Roger had dated William’s sister for a while before he’d mistakenly double-booked her with a feisty deb one New Year’s Eve. The resulting catfight was still fondly remembered by both men. Roger and William’s relationship was based on something much more solid: a shared love of fine wines, food and money. Once a month they met up socially, taking it in turns to buy each other lunch in the best restaurants around London.

‘Did you and Saul have a falling out?’

‘Not at all,’ said Roger, looking surprised. ‘In fact the whole family is in shock. Saul hadn’t even seen the girl in the last three years, she was something of a black sheep to tell the truth. Never used to involve herself in family affairs, never summered with us at the house in Provence – not since she was a girl, anyway. Never joined us for Christmas in Gstaad. Strange girl; very closed off, I’d say.’

William chewed a mouthful of his steak thoughtfully.

‘However, I heard that she’s removed you from your position – a bit of a sideways move?’

Roger barked a hollow laugh.

‘It’s so transparent, isn’t it? Some trick they’ve taught her at that management firm she was with no doubt. Make your mark, fire a few people, especially people more capable than yourself, who might make you look bad.’

‘Hmm …’ said William.

‘More wine sir?’ asked the sommelier, appearing at Roger’s side.

Roger nodded, tapping the top of his glass.

‘And she’s replaced you with whom?’ asked William.

Roger laughed cynically, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

‘Ah, you haven’t heard? Some 26-year-old with no fashion college background and no track record bar some lowly position in a tacky Hollywood accessories company.’

William winced. ‘Oh dear.’

‘Indeed.’ He scoffed, ‘I’d almost understand it if she’d have got in a heavyweight designer, someone from Hermès or Bottega Veneta perhaps, but she’s treating it as some sort of game. Trashed the entire new collection for no apparent reason, wasted thousands in the process. Now she has all these grand ambitions for expansion. I still have a 20 per cent stake in this company, William, and frankly I’m worried my shareholdings aren’t going to be worth the paper they are written on by Christmas.’