Chapter 5 #4
I mentally scoff at the thought of the fun competition authorities would have with an attitude like that in Europe. Neil shoots me a warning glance and visibly relaxes when he’s confronted with my best fake smile.
Our drinks are placed around the table. Neil takes a sip of his black coffee after stirring in three brown sugar cubes – it must drink like tar – then gets back to business.
‘So tell me, Abdulla, what are your immediate needs?’
Abdulla places his glass of sparkling water back on the table in front of him, then rests his elbows on the cotton cloth and interlocks his fingers.
‘I have three companies that I would like to buy. Two are small family businesses that I know well. I can work with the owners. The third is a competitor. I do not like the family, I do not like what they stand for and I do not want them to have an… ah… say in how I run my business.’
‘Then you either need to negotiate hard and get them out for as little as possible, or we need to think about differentiating the share classes, weakening their power to vote on matters of business,’ I say, pausing for a drink of Earl Grey.
‘Weakening their power might be enough of a deterrent and they might decide to walk away but failing that, at least you wouldn’t relinquish control, as such. ’
Abdulla nods but annoyingly looks to Neil for confirmation.
‘She’s right,’ Neil says, although it does little to dampen my irritation.
Three waiters place our respective breakfasts in front of each of us in perfect unison and I tuck into my eggs Benedict, all the while counting to ten in my head. Neil clears his mouth of a forkful of smoked salmon before speaking again.
‘We can talk about the detail of how you want to structure the acquisitions, Abdulla, but what sort of time frame are you working to? Three deals is a lot of work; of course, quite how much work depends on the size of company involved, the level of due diligence required and any unexpected issues that crop up.’
‘Yes. I recognise that. You are here because I am told good things about your firm, Neil, and I like you, but this is your opportunity to tell me you can meet my needs. If you cannot, another firm will get my business.’
‘Of course.’
‘I would like to complete at least one deal by end of year.’
I almost choke on my mouthful of English muffin. My eyes flick to Neil’s over my glass as I soothe my throat with cool orange juice.
Neil’s face is firmly schooled into a poker expression. ‘Calendar year end or tax year end?’
‘Calendar. The other two by tax year end.’
It’s no good; orange won’t stop me from choking this time. I can feel Neil’s eyes burning into me as I cough into my napkin. There’s no way we can commit to that, at least not without more detail.
‘We can do it,’ Neil blurts. ‘It’ll take a lot of resource but that’s the benefit of a firm of our size and stature; we have resource in abundance.’
No we don’t! We’re already snowed!
‘Yes. I understand that my needs will not be cheap but I think we can come to an arrangement.’
‘What did you have in mind?’ Neil asks.
‘I would like to have someone in control from Dubai… on the ground, I think is how you say. I would like a link between someone in my company and your team in London.’
Neil draws back from his breakfast. He places his knife and fork down and leans back into his chair thoughtfully. ‘You want a secondee?’
‘Yes.’
‘Full-time, in Dubai?’
‘Yes.’
I’m holding a forkful of egg midway between my plate and my mouth when I feel two sets of eyes blazing into me.
‘Me?’ I ask.
‘You’d be a perfect fit,’ Neil says, his eyes asking me whether I’ll do it.
‘It would be a good opportunity,’ Abdulla adds. ‘And in Dubai, the sun always shines.’
I can’t deny, it would be a fantastic opportunity. The wealthiest construction company in the UAE. Three more deals likely to follow. It’s a huge opportunity.
‘How long?’ I ask.
Abdulla purses his lips and wobbles his head from side to side. ‘We need to discuss money but I think six months. I would like someone in Dubai for deal one in December, then to stay on for the others. They complete in February and March then tidy up. Yes, six months, or bigger, more.’
Six months. Dubai. A massive CV builder. I could be giddy if I let myself. But what about Gregory? Leave him for six months, maybe longer. A court case for something I did. My dad’s house to sell. Making sure Sandy is okay.
‘Why don’t you send me some details of the companies, Abdulla, then I can make a better assessment of fees and ways of helping you to meet your time frames? We can have a call to discuss or I can come out to Dubai for another meeting.’
‘Yes. I agree. I would like to have a plan in place by month end. If not, I go elsewhere.’
‘I understand completely.’
I’m grateful for Neil taking control as my head feels like it might explode.
I really can’t take any more issues, messes, questions, things to think about.
A dull ache builds at the base of my skull.
Can I really pass up an opportunity like this for a man I’ve known a matter of weeks?
A man who I’m completely and utterly besotted with but who I really don’t know is committed to me.
A man who right now could be with me through a sense of obligation alone.
But the way he looks at me, the way he touches me.
He calls me his light. How can I doubt that he wants to be with me?
Then again, why would he want to be with plain, ordinary Scarlett Heath?
‘Madam? Are you finished?’
I straighten my knife and fork to six o’clock on my half-eaten plate of food. ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘We’ll take the bill, please,’ Neil says, nodding to the waiter hovering by our table. ‘This is on us, Abdulla.’
‘Thank you, sir. It sounds like we have a way to move forward,’ he says, rising from his seat, holding out a hand, first to Neil and then to me. ‘Three weeks. No more.’
I have no idea how much of the conversation I missed, lost in thought. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Abdulla.’
‘And you, Scarlett. I will hopefully see you in Dubai soon.’
‘You may well,’ I say, feigning confidence in my words.
We watch Abdulla climb into the back of a limousine, then a Savoy butler whistles through his fingers for the next cab in line.
‘Actually, Neil, I’m going to stay here and work for an hour. I have another meeting not far away.’
‘Okay, well, give some thought to Dubai and we can discuss it further once Abdulla has given me a more detailed scope of work. You know, Scarlett, it would be a good experience for you and great for you to get so close to a new client. It wouldn’t hurt your chances of partnership one day to build a relationship like that.
And I don’t mean to speak out of turn but with what you’ve been through recently, losing your father, it might be a good time to take a break from London too.
I’ll leave it with you for now. Think about it. ’
‘I will,’ I say, knowing too well that he’ll expect me to go.
Once the car has pulled away from the hotel, I wander back into the bar and nurse a latte for fifty minutes, neither drinking the coffee nor doing any work until Apple’s standard ringtone chimes through my iPhone.
‘Sandy. I’ve been meaning to call.’
‘But you haven’t,’ she snaps. ‘How are you? I’ve been worried sick.’
I sigh. Sandy’s been more of a mother to me than my own mum ever was.
She stayed for more than five years of my life, for a start, and when the going got tough, in my dad’s worst days of Alzheimer’s, she stuck with us and nursed my dad so I could keep my career, keep making him proud.
Neither of them would be proud of me now, not if they knew what I’m capable of.
‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say.’
‘Girly, I ought to slap your backside. Your dad would kill me for not looking after you properly.’
I smile. ‘He really wouldn’t.’
‘No. He wouldn’t. But I ought to look after you better.’
‘How are things at Lara’s? Do you like the new job?’ It’s still strange to me that Sandy now keeps house for Gregory’s mother.
‘Demanding. We’re still cleaning up after the party. Stop changing the subject. How are you? I mean really, not what you’re feeding other people. Tell me the truth.’
‘Shit.’ The word leaves my mouth without any real intent or conviction.
‘Watch that potty mouth!’
‘Sorry,’ I mutter. ‘So Jackson told you what happened, how it happened?’ It’s also odd to me that Sandy is striking up a relationship with Jackson. And terrifying that, on some level, Gregory’s dark web has caught her too.
‘Yes, he told me.’
I hold my breath and nervously wait for seconds that feel like an eternity. ‘Say something, Sandy, please.’
An enormous exhale comes down the line. ‘Genesis 9:6. “Whoever sheds man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”’
I’ve no idea whether that’s acceptance or confirmation that I’m damned but that’s not what’s playing on my mind. ‘Sandy, please don’t hate Gregory. I can stand other people having an opinion of him but not you.’
‘Sweets, hate Gregory? I’m saying in his shoes, in the circumstances, knowing everything he knew about his father, what he did, who he was, I can only hope I’d have the strength to do what he did.’
Relief overwhelms me and fills my eyes with tears I can’t hold back. I dip my head, aware of my surroundings, and rub my eyes with the back of my hand, conscious that I don’t want to smudge black into my cheeks. ‘Thank you,’ I sniff.
‘Scarlett, please don’t cry. I want to give you a big, fat Sandy snuggle.’
Sniffing a laugh, I try to compose myself, feeling like everyone in the bar is watching me unravel over my now cold cup of coffee.
Christ, I never used to cry. ‘I’ve been asked to go to Dubai with work,’ I blurt, desperate to change the subject and my melancholy thoughts but actually introducing only my latest dilemma to the forefront of my mind.
‘Dubai?’ It’s more exclamation than question.
‘It’s for a big client and it could be a good opportunity but… I don’t know… I don’t think I can go.’
‘When?’
‘I’d need to leave in December.’
‘For how long?’
‘Six months, maybe longer.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, oh. The timing couldn’t really be worse, what with, well, you know. And then there’s Dad and the house to sort out, and… I don’t know.’
‘And you don’t want to leave Gregory?’
I groan, frustrated and increasingly aware that the ache at the back of my head is turning into a throb. ‘Let’s not talk about it now. I’ve got to go, Sandy, but I’ll call you later in the week.’
‘All right, sweets. You call me whenever you need to or want to and if you don’t want to in the next forty-eight hours, you’d better call me just because.’
I imagine her fake angry face and wagging finger, the same wagging finger she would shake at me when I was seven years old.
‘Okay. I love you.’
‘Love you too, sweets. Keep safe and tell that man of yours thank you from me. If anything had happened to you—’
‘It didn’t. I love you. Speak soon.’