The Innocent And The Playboy. Sophie Weston
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detected the evasion. Of course he would. He had built up a worldwide empire on management skills, which meant that he would have no problem at all in reading a minor employee’s disaffection.
He did not look worried by her attitude. Why should he? His reputation said he had a flair for rooting out opposition at the heart. He would have detected that this minor employee would not present him with any problems he could not deal with. Just let him not detect as well how carefully she had orchestrated her leave in order to avoid his thrice-postponed visit, Rachel thought.
Before he could challenge her further she said, ‘Were you looking for the boardroom? You should have turned right out of the lift, not left.’
He was looking at her intently. Before he could question her she said, ‘Let me show you.’
For a moment he did not say anything. She could feel him weighing up her reaction, assessing its implications, even its possible effect. Oh, yes, you could see why he was head of a multinational, multi-business empire.
She could have kicked herself. She held her breath, not quite looking at him. But he decided it was not worth probing, in the end.
‘Thank you,’ he said easily. ‘I’d appreciate that.’
She breathed again.
He fell into step beside her. He did not say anything further, but Rachel could feel his thoughtful gaze on her profile. She hoped she kept her expression neutral. By the time they reached the boardroom she felt as if the whole of that side of her face had been irradiated. Doing her best to ignore the feeling, she opened the door.
‘Mr di Stefano,’ she announced to the room.
It was not necessary. All the men there already knew who he was as well as she did, Rachel could see. And most of them were scared of him. She saw that too.
Well, at least she wasn’t scared of him, she thought. Not now. Maybe once. Not any more. It was ironic. He had done his worst to a vulnerable adolescent and she had survived. There was nothing left to be afraid of.
Reminding herself. that she was totally unafraid of Riccardo di Stefano was one thing. Meeting his eyes and retaining conviction was something else entirely. Prudently, Rachel kept her head turned away from that piercing gaze. Luckily it was not difficult.
It became obvious that Riccardo di Stefano had come to Bentley’s that morning with one object and one only. He was pleasant enough about it but underneath the good manners he was not making much attempt to hide that steely purpose. Philip Jensen was chairing the meeting and managed to deflect four pointed questions. Eventually Riccardo di Stefano changed tack. He stopped asking questions and interrupted Philip in mid-waffle.
‘Frankly, it seems to us at Di Stefano that you’ve lost your way,’ he said.
Philip Jensen was unused to direct confrontation.
‘If we can just keep with the agenda...’ he began fussily.
Riccardo di Stefano pushed the papers away from him.
‘Forget the agenda. What’s the point of talking about whether to go into Eastern Europe next year when the bank could collapse at any time?’
Rachel gasped. She was not alone. Riccardo di Stefano’s eyes swept round the table.
‘That sounds like surprise,’ he mocked.
Philip recovered. ‘Collapse? What are you talking about?’
‘Your little adventures into the futures market. You’ve got enough risk on board to wipe out the bank.’
Philip forgot he was in awe of Riccardo di Stefano. He sat bolt upright and glared. ‘That’s a preposterous suggestion.’
‘Is it?’
Riccardo nodded to a quiet man whom Rachel knew to be his company’s London director and who was on the bank’s board. The man produced a pile of printed sheets and began to pass them round. The result of Angela’s photocopying, presumably. Could Mandy possibly be right about his intending to put in a bid for the whole bank, then?
Rachel looked at the sheets blankly. They were figures of some sort. She was too shaken to focus on precisely what they represented.
The quiet man said, ‘I’ve been saying I wasn’t happy with bank strategy for six months. After the last board meeting I was so worried that I talked to Riccardo. He had our research department do a full analysis. These are the results.’
Philip picked up the stapled sheets and flicked through them. Sitting next to him, Rachel saw that his hands were shaking. He was clearly having as much difficulty in focusing on the figures as she had.
He managed, though, and looked up sharply. His eyes went very small and sharp and the tremor in his hands intensified.
‘Where did you get these figures?’
Riccardo shrugged. ‘Market information and some in-depth deduction. Then the research department in New York did some modelling. This is the result.’
Philip was shaking with anger now. With more than anger—fury.
‘You’ve been spying. This is market sensitive.’
Riccardo looked amused. ‘No need to spy. It’s all out there in the market if you go looking for it. With Sam on the board, I knew what to look for, of course.’
Philip stood up. ‘This is intolerable.’
Riccardo stood up as well. He looked utterly relaxed. How well Rachel remembered that cool, relaxed manner. How well she remembered how effectively he could use it—and with what devastating results. She braced herself.
Riccardo drawled, ‘I rather agree.’
Philip blinked. All Rachel’s protective instincts urged her to take his shaking hand. She curbed them. It would do no good and Philip would not thank her for humiliating him in public. She looked down at her own copy of Riccardo’s figures again.
Riccardo said, ‘Face it, Philip. You’ve driven this bank into the ground. Mismanagement followed by panic. Speaking as a major shareholder, I’ve had enough.’
Rachel was probably the only person at the table who was not surprised. Even Riccardo’s quiet colleague looked taken aback. A general spluttering of indignation and recriminations broke out. Riccardo sat down again, leaning back in his chair. He watched them all lazily.
Rachel lifted her eyes from the papers in front of her. Across the table Riccardo was the only one not trying to make himself heard in the hubbub. The only one apart from her, that was.
Suddenly something seemed to draw his attention to her. Seeing her silent, he raised his brows. Then he looked directly at her, straight in the eyes. Rachel felt as if she had touched a naked wire. She jolted back in her seat, breaking the eye contact feverishly. But she knew he was still looking at her.
Beside her Philip was roaring, ‘Breach of confidence ... Complain to the authorities... The bank will sue...’
Riccardo was unimpressed. His lip curled faintly. He said nothing. Suddenly Rachel could not bear it any more. She stood up. The move was so unexpected that it attracted everyone’s attention.
If she had ever imagined a scenario like this she would have been alarmed at the thought of taking public initiative away from Philip. But she had never imagined it. And anyway there were older and far more serious things she had feared in her life than Philip Jensen’s potentially wounded ego.
So she said levelly, ‘Gentlemen, the main item on the agenda was future business strategy. My report is in your folder as item four. I suggest we break to consider Mr di Stefano’s analysis. Then we can come back and discuss it. We can look at the strategy options once we’ve agreed where the bank is falling down now.’
She sat down. There was a murmur of assent.
Riccardo had gone very still. The long-fingered hand on the table was clenched tight. His eyes