Michael, my PA, bursts through the door, waving Sunday’s copy of The Edition, the leading UK newspaper.
“Have you seen it?” he asks, approaching my desk. He stops, drawing up short and shaking his head. “Of course you have.”
His expression is one of admiration. He seems to think I’m all-knowing and all-powerful. The consummate professional.It would never cross his mind that I might slip up, miss something.
How little he knows me.
He, like so many others, can’t see past the persona I’ve spent years cultivating.
“I’m so dumb,” he says, chastising himself.
I frown. That’s one thing Michael is not. If he were, he wouldn’t be working for me.
His eyes widen suddenly, and he snaps his fingers.
“That’s why you’ve been stonewalling the development,” he says, grinning.
I sit back in the chair and rest my hands flat on the desk.
“Not so dumb,” I say, and his smile widens.
“How?”
“I can’t reveal my source, but in business, it helps to have friends in a variety of places. Always remember that.”
It was one of the first pieces of advice my father ever gave me. That and,“Never show your true feelings or insecurities so they can be used against you, Kitty Kat.”
In this case, it was Quentin Cavendish, head of the country’s largest media corporation and best friend of my baby brother, Caleb, who saved the day.
“So, what now?” Michael asks, taking a seat and pulling out his note taker.
I suppress a smile. Always ready to work. His enthusiasm knows no bounds.
“Send a memo to the press department. We’ll need to release a statement immediately distancing ourselves from Moorland and Sons. The Frazer Hotel Group is no longer associated with them. Call a meeting with the asset management team, tell Elliot we need to revisit the initial list of architects we compiled, find out who’s available, and review their pitches. Arrange an emergency board meeting for Wednesday afternoon.”
My heart sinks a little at the thought, but I keep my emotions in check. The original list was short, and Moorland and Sons were by far the best.
“I’m on it. Anything else?” Michael asks, standing up.
“I’ll let you know,” I say, as he heads towards the door.
As soon as the door closes, I spin my chair towards the window and drop my head back. I close my eyes against the incessant pounding in my head and release a breath, trying to force the rigid muscles in my shoulders to relax. Eight o’clock can’t come fast enough.
I open my eyes and head to the coffee machine I had installed in my office, just for moments like these. I lean against the sideboard as it does its thing. My mind races with questions as I rehash all the information I’ve received.
Come on, Kat, you’ve got this. You’ve dealt with setbacks before.
I pick up the coffee mug and cradle it in my hands, taking a sip. My stomach churns at the bitterness, reminding me I skipped breakfast. I move slowly to the window and stare out over the city. I really need to shake the heaviness sitting on my chest.
This is just one more crisis for me to overcome. It’s nothing new.
When Quentin called a couple of weeks ago, I wanted to scream. We’d just signed the contract with Moorland and Sons.He warned me he had a team of reporters investigating them, and that I should be careful.
At the time, it had been one more thing to add to my list of things that could and were going wrong.
Moorland and Sons is one of the few companies within the UK that focus on sustainability in their architectural designs. They appeared perfect on the surface. Behind the scenes, however, it appears they’ve been paying off planning officers and buying officials. Something Quentin’s newspaper uncovered and exposed over the weekend. As a result of the exposé, they’re now under investigation, but the scandal is not something I want anywhere near the Frazer Hotel Group or our latest project.
It also means there’ll be a delay, something the board and our investors are not going to like. This project is something I’ve worked hard to sell them, it’s my baby, and has been my vision for the FHG since before my father died. But that’s me. I’m focused and driven to the point of obsession. As one reporter wrote a couple of years ago.
