A Very Corporate Affair book 3 (The Corporate series) (13 page)

"Same for me. Want to know what I think?" He nodded, "I think you're in love with Janine, and I'm in love with the Ruskie Ratbag. We're both good looking people, so there was always going to be an attraction, but now we've acknowledged and explored it, we can admit that it's either not the right time, or that the chemistry isn't there, and let it go."

"I think you're spot on with your assessment. Can we get back to being best friends?" He looked relieved.

"Yeah. Although I don't think it's all that fair that you asked your girlfriend on our holiday. I would never have done that to you."

"Sorry about that. She was giving me so much grief about it. Why don't you ask Ivan to come? Then the four of us can go."

"Doubt if he'd be able to at such short notice. I will ask though."

"What are you gonna do with all these clothes and things? I doubt if they'll all fit in your closet. The shoes definitely won't."

"I might keep a lot of them packed up until after I move. I need to work my way through them, see what needs altering or cleaning, and sort them all out. There's a lot there, so it'll take a while. I'm gonna go through all the handbags first. There was a wad of cash in the first one I picked up."  

"I'll give you a hand if you like." He pulled open the first box of handbags, and between us, we went through all of them, throwing the contents onto the bed. Each one seemed to hold makeup, perfume, and a wad of cash. When we were done, James sorted the cash into piles of a thousand pounds per heap. There was twenty five grand in total. I counted the pile of cash Ivan had given me, and in total, I had just over two hundred thousand pounds. James whistled through his teeth, "generous bugger isn't he?"

"The handbags alone must be worth more than that," I said, stroking a Hermes bag. "All of these are designer, average price about five grand. There's at least 100 here. I began to go through all the cosmetics, sorting it into keep and throw piles, while James made more coffee.

"Rather than throw all that, you should take it into work, and see if the secretaries want it."

"Good idea." I piled it all into a carrier bag, and set it down next to my gym bag, ready for the morning. I put a washload of laundry on, and tidied the boxes as best I could, before shoving the cash in my knicker drawer. I kept the jewellery hidden in the handbag, stuffed in the closet amongst all the others.

I decided to give Ivan a call about the holiday. I didn't expect his phone to be switched on, but it was.

"Hi babe, what's up?" he said as he answered on the first ring.

"James has invited Janine on holiday. Would there be any chance you'd be able to join us too?" He went a bit quiet.

"You go next Sunday don't you?"

"Yeah, I know it's short notice."

"I could fly over for the weekend, but not the whole two weeks. I pencilled in two weeks in France in August, I have to organise these things in advance."
You didn't invite me to join you?

"Ok, not to worry, it was just an idea. See you tomorrow."

"Night."

I went into the living room. James was sprawled out over the couch. "Ivan can't take the time off, so I'm gonna let you and Janine go on your own. I don't fancy playing gooseberry."

"Oh Elle, I feel so bad about this whole thing. We wouldn't make you feel uncomfortable, I promise."

"Can we leave the subject now please? I've said no." James turned back to the telly in a bit of a huff. I went to my room, and got on with some work, ready to hit the ground running the next day.

The next morning, I was at my desk by half seven, checking my schedule, and sorting out the work I'd got ready the night before. By ten, I'd got tons done, and was strolling into the boardroom at Retinski. I sat back, and watched Ivan outline his plans to the American end of the Conde Nast board. They all behaved identically to the UK directors, sitting a little straighter, eyes gleaming with greed at what could lay before them.

They all seemed very polished, and astute to the point of slyness. Vaguely, I mused that we'd all have to watch our backs with such sharp characters around. I really didn't like the finance guy,  nor the PR director, who gave me the creeps. I sat and made some notes as Ivan asked questions about the American operations, which were larger than the UK ones, but not as profitable. It looked to me as though they had let their costs run away, but their revenues had been somewhat static for the last few years. By joining everything into the umbrella company, we could cut costs significantly, and get a better grip of the outgoings. That only left the issue of growing the revenue. I made a note to explore the possibility of involving Joan Lester in giving them some assistance.

Ivan took them all out to lunch, while I went back to my office to work on setting up the umbrella company. He had decided on an English sounding name, Beltan Industries plc. I worked my way through the paperwork required to create the conglomerate, listing the various companies as subsidiaries. I called Lewis to see if he was free to check over what I'd done, as it had been pretty complex, and I wanted his nod that it was all completed correctly.

"You're on the list of directors as a non exec. I thought you weren't going to do it?"

"That was Retinski. This is the umbrella that controls all of it. Not stuffed full of Russians, so I'm happier with this one."

"Good politicking Elle, not only a seat on the board of a vast conglomerate, but the job of setting it up too. Resigning from Retinski was a great move. I'm learning a lot from you."

"It wasn't like that Lewis. This was more about controlling a huge collection of vastly different companies, and finding a board that would keep everyone happy. It's not all about me you know." I was a bit annoyed. Ivan wasn't doing this just for me, and Lewis' insinuation that I was manipulating Ivan was wrong and a bit snide.

"Whatever the motivation, it's a hell of a feather in your cap."

"And Pearson Hardwick's. You have direct access to one of the biggest conglomerates in the world now. Quite a coup for the firm."

"Quite. You will be the golden girl when Ms Pearson hears about this."
He's jealous.

Lewis went back to his office, and I sat and contemplated his behaviour. I figured it was only to be expected that my older, wiser colleagues would be a bit put out that I'd only just started my career, and had waltzed into a non exec role that Lewis would have sacrificed his left testicle for, with the pay check that eclipsed anything I could earn as an ordinary corporate lawyer.

Laura came in holding the file she'd typed up for me in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other. "All that makeup's gone from the staff room. They were like a pack of vultures, fighting over it. Where did you get it from?"

"Dascha's house. Think she had a bit of a shopping illness. I'll see if there's anything else there next time I go." I felt a bit greedy keeping all the bags and clothes for myself, and resolved to bring in anything I didn't want.

Ivan emailed me just before I headed home, asking me to meet him and Paul in Smollenskis at eight the next morning. He said he might join the Americans for dinner that evening, so wouldn't be around. He did invite me, but I still had work to do that evening, and I had a flat to view.

Roger drove me over to Cinnamon Wharf, and the estate agent was waiting outside as we pulled up. It was a similar type of block to the one I lived in, with the addition of a 24 hour concierge in reception. I looked around at the marble and glass entrance hall, with its sculptures and  tasteful decor. "How much do the cheapest flats here sell for?" I asked the agent.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand. Did you want to look at one?" He asked, probably thinking I couldn't afford the penthouse.

"No thanks. There's no social housing here is there?"

He shook his head, "no, all privately owned. 90 percent are sold, mostly owner occupiers. Only three have been bought by companies, probably for their executives, rather than general rental. You won't get a neighbour on housing benefit, if that's what you're asking." He pressed the button for the lift. "The penthouse has two parking spaces in the underground garage. Service charge is ten thousand a year. There's a management company in place, with residents as directors." The lift pinged as we reached the twelfth floor. There was only one front door.
This flat must be vast.
He unlocked it, and stepped aside to let me in.

The apartment took my breath away. It was flooded with light from a wall of floor to ceiling windows overlooking a sunken terrace, and the river. It was huge, open plan, with a gleaming and glossy white kitchen area at one end, and plenty of space for sofas, and a dining table in the main reception. It had cream tiled floor, which the agent explained was limestone, with underfloor heating throughout. He showed me around the kitchen area, with its built in appliances, enormous cooker, and double size fridge. It had two doors leading off, one of which was the separate laundry room I'd put on my wish list. The other was a walk in pantry, fitted with shelves and a wine fridge.
Lovely.

The apartment had four bedrooms, as well as a separate study. The master bedroom had river views from more floor to ceiling windows, a gorgeous ensuite, with a very fancy shower as well as a jacuzzi bath. The dressing room was quite large, and nicely fitted. I figured it would be fine for my work clothes, and I could use one of the other bedrooms for the rest.

The second bedroom also had a walk in closet and ensuite, which would be great for guests. The other two rooms were plainer, and looked out onto the street. Perfect for my handbag and shoe collections.  I checked out the study, which was beautifully fitted out in pale oak.

"The piece de resistance for this penthouse is the terrace," said the agent, pushing open the wall of windows. They concertina'd open, exposing the entire reception room to the terrace. I stepped outside. The terrace was slightly lowered, so as not to interfere with the views of the river, and had Perspex rails. It wrapped around three sides of the apartment, and was the same limestone as inside. I wandered along to the end. I could see straight onto Ivan's terrace, which meant he could see onto mine.
Not so great.

It was tremendous bad fortune that Ivan stepped outside as I was standing there, and even worse when he was followed out by a dark haired woman. Her body language was flirtatious, and coquettish. I waited to see if anyone else joined them. I wanted to be wrong, but it felt like a kick in the guts after our weekend. I took out my phone, and called him. I watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Hi, how did it go this afternoon?" He asked, as I observed him pouring two glasses of wine.

"Yeah. Done as far as I can. Are you out with the yanks?"

"Yeah, just in the car now, heading over to the west end. Are you at home?"

"No. I'm viewing a flat, next to yours, and wondered who that woman is, ya lying bastard." I watched as he stood up, and looked straight at me. I clicked off my phone, and headed inside.

"Any other similar apartments, but in a different location on your books?" I asked the agent.

"Yes. I have another two places you can view." I followed him out, informed Roger that I wouldn't be needing him, and went off to view the other two apartments.

The second one was perfect, near work, and as large and well appointed as the first. It was slightly more money, at 4.75 million, but really did tick all my boxes. I headed home, and went up to see Oscar. 

He answered the door wearing just shorts. "Hey Elle, how did the flat viewing go?" He waved me in, and went off to fetch another glass to pour me some wine.

"Great. Found the perfect apartment, just down the road from here."

"Thought you were looking at Cinnamon Wharf?"

"Yeah I did, but the balcony looked straight onto Ivan's balcony, where he was entertaining a lady friend, while telling me he was out on a business dinner." Oscar winced.

"That explains why he called me, to ask if I'd seen you. Did you switch your phone off?"

"Yeah. Didn't want to listen to his excuses. He was meant to be trying to win me back, not getting caught lying and entertaining another woman. Anyway. Two things, first, I'd like to put an offer in on an apartment. It's 4.75 mil. Is that ok?"

"Yes, of course. Offer four and a half though first, they should go for it as you're a cash buyer. I'll transfer the money into your account this week, as soon as you give me the details. Now what was the other thing?"

"Can I join you in Tuscany? Only James has invited his girlfriend on our holiday, and I don't want to be a gooseberry with the two of them. That leaves me with two weeks booked off with nowhere to go, and no one to go with."

He smiled widely, "I'd be delighted. I can see if I can arrange a flight for Monday if you'd prefer. It doesn't matter when I go."

"That would be fantastic. Thank you so much." I flung my arms round him, hugging him tight. It felt ridiculously good to be pressed up against him again. He hugged me back, resting his chin on my shoulder.

I pulled away, and picked up my glass, we toasted our holiday, and I took a long sip, feeling the tension begin to leave my shoulders. Oscar promised to call me with our flight details the following day, and take my account details. I hugged him goodnight, and went home.

James and Janine were out, so I made a coffee, and checked my emails, immediately seeing the one from Ivan.

To: Elle Reynolds

From: Ivan Porenski

Date: July 8th 2013

Subject: sorry, yet again

Dearest Elle.

Yet again another email to say sorry. I shouldn't have said I was in the car when I wasn't. There's nothing going on with Natalya (the woman you saw), I just didn't want to have to explain who she was, or my business with her. I did in fact head over to meet the yanks shortly afterwards, which they can verify. I know this doesn't look good, but I beg you to trust me. I have no romantic or sexual entanglement with her, never have, and have no intention of it. She is just doing a job for me, and needed a last minute meeting yesterday.