The voice seemed to get even angrier. ‘No, I’m his secretary. Now get off this line and don’t try to get in touch with him again, or you’ll regret it.’
Fiercely Sophie said, ‘I’m not trying to blackmail him. Tell him I just need to see her, that’s all. I won’t tell a living soul, so long as I can just see her.’
The phone went down with a crash and Sophie slowly replaced her own. Tears began to run down her face, blinding her.
Paul Brougham leaned back in his green leather swivel chair and drummed his fingertips on the matching desk, frowning as he listened to Freddy. Behind him a huge window glowed with the lights of London’s riverside night scene; a helicopter flew above the skyline, watching the homeward flow of traffic out of the city. Paul heard the engine note and glanced over his shoulder, grimacing. He should be going home himself soon, he was exhausted and dying to get into a hot bath and have dinner with Cathy, but Freddy’s news was too worrying. All day they had heard that there was movement in the shares, someone was buying them in large batches and the city was buzzing with curiosity.
‘I’m still not sure what’s going on except that the buyer is Media Inco World News,’ Freddy said.
‘Why are they hitting on us? They’re American, for God’s sakes – and big over there, too.’
‘Word is they’re looking around for a matching European company. I guess we’d fit their profile, and Salmond, the guy who runs them, is needy – he’s hit a ceiling over here and he’s looking for growth outside the US.’
That was what Paul had feared, but how far would Salmond want to take his attempt? He might back off if he met strong resistance and be satisfied just to have some sort of influence on the board. Before he talked to Salmond, Paul would like to have a clearer view of the man’s financial position.
‘Could you find out as much as you can about him for me?’
Freddy nodded, looking grave. ‘One thing, Paul, he’s solid; the man himself has a vast fortune inherited from his Swiss father. No cash-flow problems there.’
Paul met his anxious gaze and made a rueful grimace. ‘You’ve always worried too much, Freddy. We may have cash-flow problems, but then we always have had. We’ve got by until now, haven’t we?’
‘But this time bluffing may not be enough. This time we may be up against someone with a bottomless pocket and a habit of getting his own way.’
‘This time is no different from any other time. All business is based on people. I keep telling you that, Freddy. It will be me against him, whoever the guy is.’
Paul swivelled to face the London skyline, his face set. This wasn’t the first time he had had to face a take-over attempt, but this time it sounded as if he might have a fight on his hands, and if it came to a showdown he would have problems fighting back. Freddy was right about that. His cash-flow was in the usual state of flux; his companies weren’t nailed down, he was vulnerable and maybe this guy Salmond knew it somehow. A shrewd eye could always pick out clues from a company balance sheet.
Oh, what the hell, he had always won before. He would find a way to stop Salmond. Why did it have to happen right now, though? Now, when he had more than his usual share of worries. This had been a bad year. They had had a series of financial setbacks and he knew he hadn’t dealt with them with the old force and speed. In the past they had faced far worse, and he had ruthlessly despatched any opponents, but something was different now. He had always been obsessed with the business, but since he had met Cathy . . . yes, he recognized with a drawn breath, it had been since he met Cathy that he had changed. Work didn’t mean as much to him. He couldn’t concentrate. The minute he thought of her everything else faded away; he felt the clutch of desire deep inside him and his insides seemed to turn to water.
If he was going to beat a take-over bid he had to get himself back in control.
‘Tomorrow we’ll call a board meeting,’ he said to Freddy over his shoulder. ‘Talk to all our friends and allies. We’re going to need them now. Off you go for now, Freddy, and get a good night’s rest. You’re going to need it.’
When Freddy had gone, Paul looked at his watch. Before he left himself, there was a call he ought to make – would she be home by now or still in her office? If he knew Chantal Rousseau she would be at her desk.
He was right. When he rang her office she answered the phone in a voice sweet as honey and warm as Provençal sun. ‘Paul, mon cher, ça va?’
‘Bien – et toi?’
‘Pas mal.’
>
‘Tu es seule ce soir?’ he asked, needing to know if anyone else was with her or if she was alone, and she murmured, still in French.
‘Quite alone, Paul – what do you want?’
Once upon a time, if she had asked him that question, in that melting voice, he would have felt a sensual beat start inside his body. He had never been in love with her, but she was a sexy woman, terrific in bed; their affair had gone on for quite a while. It had ended when he met Cathy.
Their public relationship had continued, of course, since Chantal was a top executive with one of his major shareholders, an important fund management company who held around a quarter of his company shares on behalf of their investors, and had been one of his chief supporters for a long time, advising on acquisitions and taking a strong interest in the running of his business.
‘I’m calling an emergency board meeting,’ he told her crisply, using English deliberately now, to make it clear that he was ignoring the very personal note he had heard in her voice, that soft, inviting purr he knew only too well.
She used English too then, her voice dry. ‘Ah, you’re taking the threat from Salmond seriously, then?’
So she already knew about it? But of course she would; everyone in the market would know by now.
‘I would be a fool if I didn’t. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’