‘Understood.’
I ought to have known that my transport would be Jackson. When I step out of the office, he’s already opening the back door of the Mercedes.
‘Good morning, Miss Heath,’ he says, showing his teeth as he smiles.
‘It’s Scarlett, please. And this is becoming a regular occurrence. Is he always this controlling?’
‘That’s what makes him good at what he does.’ Jackson closes the door behind me and for the fifteen-minute journey, I quiz him. He’s a sort of driver-cum-bodyguard, ex-forces. Gregory frequently tries to give him the weekend off but it depends on his schedule and Jackson is always happy to work. A cleaner-cum-chef visits Gregory’s apartment every day but she doesn’t live in.
‘Any other extravagances?’
‘A few,’ Jackson chuckles. ‘When he gives himself time to enjoy them.’
Under the stress of my pitch on my first trip to GJR Tower, I’ve forgotten how impressive the office block is. I’m greeted at the entrance by a very merry receptionist in a grey suit and blue necktie. She passes me over to a concierge, who takes me up to the twenty-seventh floor. The lift opens to a sign stating this floor is the home of Eclectic Technologies, with a bolt of electric lightning flashing through the glowing, white words.
Another receptionist takes my coat and offers me a drink while I wait. She probably thinks I look like I could use some caffeine. She dials an extension and tells the person on the other end to let Mr Ryans know that his ten o’clock has arrived. On hearing his name, goose pimples form up my arms one by one like falling dominos. I quickly stomp on my thoughts and try to remember why I’m here.
I sense his presence before I see or hear him – the blood pumps harder in my veins, my temperature rises and a knot ties in my abdomen. When I glance up, he’s watching me from the internal reception door. My neck heats under the intensity of his stare.
‘Hi!’ is all I manage.
‘Hello, Scarlett.’ He looks effortlessly cool in his tailored, charcoal suit and black tie, his thick hair slicked back and slightly to one side.
Dragging my eyes from him, I fumble around my seat, picking up papers and my bag. He holds the glass door open for me and I glance at the receptionist as I pass, giving her a polite smile but receiving a scowl in return. The short walk to the boardroom feels endless. We ask each other how we are. We’re both well. I pass comment about the great British weather. Gregory apologises for moving our meeting forwards.
Williams is already seated at the sizeable oval table when we enter the room. ‘I have to go,’ he says into his phone. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven.’
‘I hope that was Amanda,’ I say. ‘Sorry, that’s completely inappropriate and absolutely not my business.’
I clumsily spill my documents onto the table then awkwardly pull my red dress straight.
‘It’s good to see you again, Scarlett,’ Williams beams. His manner instantly putting me at ease, unlike his CEO.
A member of kitchen staff knocks and enters the room with three coffees, a pot for topping up and a plate of pastries that smell fantastic – butter, chocolate and sweet spices.
Williams takes a cinnamon swirl as soon as the plate lands on the table, then wipes his fingers on a serviette. ‘And yes, it was Amanda.’
I nod, unsure of the most appropriate response. Unbundling my documents, setting up my laptop, and regaining my composure, I take control of the meeting and do what I know best, what my dad wants me to do and what I’ve worked hard to do. Settling in to my role as their legal advisor and pretending that Gregory is just another client, I start talking law.
Williams relays Lawrence’s apology for not being able to make the meeting, which is annoying as a lot of my curiosity about the deal concerns his ownership of Connektions Limited and indirectly, Sea People International Inc. I decide to ask questions second and talk Gregory and Williams through my brief due diligence on Sea People first. Gregory pays less attention than I think he ought to but Williams listens intently.
After the best part of an hour, I ask, ‘Do you have any questions so far?’
Gregory’s usually focused eyes are distant. Distracted, as if he couldn’t care less about the company he’s taking over. Williams asks five or six questions, apparently more intrigued by the prospects of his investment. There’s a silence after I answer the question and Williams and I both look to Gregory, expecting him to speak. He doesn’t.
‘Well,’ Williams says eventually, ‘it’s eleven-thirty; why don’t we take a quick break and I’ll order more drinks?’
I have to admit Gregory’s attitude towards the deal strikes me as peculiar and his lack of interest is clearly irking Williams. I excuse myself to the ladies’ to give them some space.
They’re standing side by side in front of the window when I return.
‘I don’t care.’ Gregory sounds peeved himself now, his South African twang more prevalent than usual. Harsher even, more manly and sexy as hell.
Williams hangs his head then pats his friend on the shoulder and walks back to the table.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask sheepishly.
Williams tucks in his seat. ‘Absolutely. Where were we?’
