Chapter 8
Issy pressed the button for the penthouse, entered the security code and took a deep breath as the lift doors slid closed. She reached for her phone to reread her father’s message, her stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation.
He must have seen Geoff’s interview, which had come out that morning.
Finally, her father was taking her seriously!
Would he offer her the AsiaPac Head of Operations role?
When she’d found out Elliot Blackburn was moving back to the States, she’d made it clear she wanted it.
There was another flip-flop in her tummy.
Why couldn’t her father give her a little more notice though?
Did he do it deliberately? She’d had to cancel her personal trainer at the last minute.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened directly into the apartment, the Harbour Bridge looming impossibly close beyond the open balcony doors.
This was her parent’s Sydney bolthole. It took up the entire top floor of The Brick, an infamous building located almost on the Opera House forecourt that had inspired countless protests twenty years before, when it was in the development phase.
The Brick was Malcolm’s first foray into property development and it turned out to be a baptism by fire.
He’d persevered, as he always did, and won.
As he always did. The residents of Sydney got over it eventually, which was exactly what her father had said would happen.
The sub-penthouse—which was half the size of this one— had just sold for seventeen million dollars.
‘Isobel?’ Her father’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen. ‘I’m in here!’
Malcolm sat at the dining table, the magazine open in front of him. She could hardly bear to think of his surprise when he’d seen her on the cover. She’d approved the photo—sitting, chin on hand—but she hadn’t seen the interview yet.
‘Hi, Daddy.’ She kissed his rough cheek.
‘Sit down.’ His tone was gruff, although it often was. He prided himself on being difficult to read.
She sat.
‘Explain this to me.’ He gestured towards the magazine.
She swallowed hard. The excitement she felt a moment ago was now tinged with doubt. ‘It’s an interview.’
‘Yes, Isobel, I know that. How did it happen?’
‘It … I … Geoff asked me—’
‘Don’t lie to me. I’ve just been on the phone to him. He said you’ve been pestering him for months. “I assumed she had your blessing,” he said.’
‘I don’t—’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t see what the problem is. Isn’t it … isn’t it good for the brand?’
Malcolm picked up the magazine and started reading.
‘Isobel Ashworth stands at the window, looking down at Sydney like Cersei Lannister gazing over King’s Landing.
Unlike the infamous Game of Thrones queen, she’s not planning to blow anything up.
Instead, she’s counting how many Ashworth hotels and property developments she can see from the palatial head office.
“Four hotels and six apartment complexes,” she says, with the carefree laugh of someone who’s never given a moment’s thought to their next mortgage repayment.
Jesus Christ!’ He threw the magazine across the table.
‘This is not good for the brand, Isobel!’
The magazine skidded off the edge of the table and fell at her feet. She didn’t move.
‘Sorry, I thought Geoff would—’ She stopped, realising how stupid she would sound if she said what she was expecting.
‘Thought he would what? I’m a little unclear what you were expecting by talking like this to a veteran journalist. You thought you could play Geoff Patterson?’ He scoffed. ‘The man has won Walkley Awards, for Christ’s sake!’
‘I just want to be taken seriously. I thought maybe it would get your attention.’
Malcolm scoffed again. ‘You definitely have my attention!’
She took a deep breath. ‘I want you to consider me for Elliot’s role. I’ve tried to tell you that already, but you’ve just brushed me off.’
‘You think you can do Elliot’s job?’
‘I think so.’
He shook his head. ‘Based on what?’
‘I’ve been working in the business for six years.’
‘Yes. And you’ve moved from one role to another the moment you’ve got bored or things have become difficult. If you see yourself as a serious player in this business, you need to earn it. It won’t just fall in your lap.’
‘I know that.’
‘Do you?’ He held her gaze.
‘I do. I promise I do.’
He leaned forward. ‘Okay, then I’ve got a job for you.’
Her stomach fluttered again. She knew it! He was going to offer her the Ops role. He was just toying with her, making sure she really wanted it.
He cleared his throat. ‘The Hartwell Entertainment Precinct is due to open in just over a month, but the contractors are running behind schedule. The project manager just quit. Sounds like chaos, frankly. I need you to go down there until completion, to keep an eye on things. An Ashworth presence usually gets things back on track.’
‘You want me to oversee a project? In Hartwell?’
‘It’ll be a chance for you to prove your commitment to the business.’
‘But—’
‘Let me guess.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You don’t want the job.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want it! I do! It’s just relocating to Hartwell isn’t—’
Malcolm raised a hand to stop her. ‘And you wonder why I don’t take you seriously.’
Issy’s favourite instructor, Abby Joy, beamed from the Peloton screen, her tight curls in a perky bunch on top of her head, rippling abdominals gleaming with just the right amount of sweat.
‘Okay, squad! Let’s conquer this mountain together!’
Issy pumped the pedals. This was exactly what she needed after the disastrous meeting with her father.
Her quads burned as his words reverberated in her head.
Moved from one role to another the minute things got hard.
Was that true? Was he right? She did get bored quickly, that part was true, but she wasn’t shy of a challenge, was she?
She just hadn’t had to deal with very many.
Besides, wasn’t it good to have a broad knowledge of the business?
‘Let’s give it everything you’ve got!’ Abby implored, as the image of Spencer’s smug face flashed in Issy’s mind.
Was he behind this? Had he been in her father’s ear?
She’d been half-expecting him to dob on her about the interview and have it pulled before it could even be published.
If only he had! For once, he would have been doing her a favour.
‘Feel that burn, Joy Squad!’
Issy responded with a surge of power. Sweat dripped off her forehead as her name—Dizzy_Issy—moved into third place on the leader board.
She stood up on the pedals so she could push even harder.
Her heart rate hit one seventy. Her mind flicked back to the conversation and she prickled with fury.
A construction project! What was her father thinking?
She didn’t know the first thing about project management.
Or construction sites. And Hartwell, of all places!
She’d barely spent a week in the place since she’d been packed off to boarding school at twelve. What on earth would she do there?
‘Come on, squad! You can go harder than that!’ Abby preached. ‘Success is a state of mind!’
Issy’s singlet was drenched in sweat. A tsunami of rage rose up in her as she moved into second place.
It was a test. He’d set her up! Blindsided her!
God. Her father was a genius. He knew she wanted that COO role.
He’d tricked her. If she said no, she would never get another role in the family business.
She would basically be handing it all over to her brothers.
Spencer, in particular; Felix was too busy with fringe investments to care.
She knew this feeling. It was the sense of being trapped. It reminded her of playing chess with her father as a child. Other dads went easy on their kids, letting them win now and then. Building their self-esteem. Not Malcolm Ashworth, though. Not even once.
‘We’re nearly there! Thirty seconds to go!’
Crap. She was still in second place. Her heart pounded as she chased Spin_King69. Her heart rate hit one ninety. Sweat droplets fell on the screen where Abby bounced on the pedals with endless energy. She had her hands in the air, standing up at full height on her bike.
‘Ten seconds!’ Abby shrieked. ‘Give it everything you have left!’ She was nearly climaxing with excitement. It was always around this point in the workout that Issy started to hate her.
She passed Spin_King69 to claim first place.
‘Woo hoo! We are DONE!’
Issy slumped forward over the handlebars, gasping for air, as the realisation dawned, crystal clear in her mind.
She had no choice.
She was going back to Hartwell.
Checkmate.