Authors: Alicia Hope
Verity’s voice brought
him
back to the task at hand. ‘The
EC
meeting
’
s
getting all too
clos
e
.
’ She gave a tired sigh.
‘
As my first as CEO,
I
have to prepare
extra
well for it.
My performance will no doubt be under the microscope.
’
He studied her for a moment, and then,
despite hi
m
s
elf
,
pointed to
a print-out
that had caught his eye
.
‘
Is that a hard copy of your presentation on refinery production?’
She nodded.
‘Well, y
ou know you’ve left
yourself open to criticism there
, don’t you?’
Verity looked up, surprised by
his sudden candour. ‘Where?’
Royce
swore silently
, wondering why he couldn
’t leav
e
her to dangle
, so to speak,
from the fraying rope ladder above the snake pit
.
A
fter all, she was the one who'd
pushed her way
into a man’s world;
why not
let her see
for herself
how cutthroat it could be?
But he needed his CEO to trust
him—at least for a while.
Royc
e could feel the
shadow of
Ella’s presence o
n the
edge of his consciousness. A
n
other memory came to him, of
their first big fight. Ella ha
d
come home from work
in
a flood of
angry tears
, too
furious
to speak.
After she’d calmed down a bit
,
s
he
finally
told him the sorry tale, of
having
the
kudos for an
achievement
of hers
stolen
by the same male colleague who’d previously made her
a scapegoat
for one of his
worst
mistake
s
.
She was feeling
hurt
and powerless
,
and
looked to Royce
for support and reassurance, b
ut he’d
made light of her grievance
,
saying,
‘Well, a
ll’s f
air in love and
war,
and corporate
confrontations
.
’
He hadn’t meant to be insensitive, just thought
she needed to toughen up. H
is heart clenched as he recalled
the look in her
tear-stained
eyes
,
Et tu, Brute
?
The
memory stung
, and
prompted him on.
‘Here,
’
he said, running
a long finger
over a table of figures on the paper,
‘
where you prov
ide the production statistics. If you show the board members t
he
comparison between expected and curren
t production
like
that
, you’ll have them
hyperventil
ating
.’
‘But it’s the truth. Are you suggesting I lie to them?’
‘Of course not. Look, it might be
the truth
,
but
sometimes we need a
softly, softly
approach when delivering
bad news. A
bitter pill is more easily swallowed if covered in honey.’
He gazed briefly
into Verity’s
eyes
before
looking
down
again
at
the papers in front of him.
Verity
drew back abruptly.
Was she
seeing
things, or had a
conspiratorial
smile flick
ered across Royce’s face
?
Is t
his bloke, sitting here helping me, the same guy
who stormed out of this room
,
hating me with a passion
,
not all that long
ago?
She
couldn’t help
staring wonderingly
at the top of his bent head, before
joini
ng him in
examining the offending document
again
.
It was
late
before they surfaced from their intense endeavours. Verity put down her pen and
had
a well-deserved stre
tch
. Settli
ng back, she became aware of Royce’s
scrutiny and realise
d she’d relaxed in his company.
Careful!
Remember who
you are, and more importantly,
who
he is.
His intense regard brought
heat to her cheeks and she felt ill at ease with him again.
‘Hungry?’
It was only a word, but
spoken softly in his deep voice, it felt like a caress.
Her pulse quickened. She took care to keep her reply crisp and business-like. ‘Yes, famished. I
missed lunch
.’
‘Perhaps we could have a meal somewhere? I have no other plans for tonight.’
She ca
ught her breath. Royce James was
asking
her out for dinner.
Oh
,
this is ridiculous, you’re reacting like all the other air-heads. For crying out loud, he
’s only asked you
to have a meal
wi
th him!
A
re you going to become all girlish every time a business associate invites you somewhere? You’re
not ‘just’ a woman, you’re
the CEO of an international corporation now, remember?
‘Well?’
Verity eyed
him.
He
obviously
wasn’t
used to waiting for women to ac
cept his invitations
, and she
was tempted to r
efuse simply on those grounds. B
ut
she
knew it was in her best interest to encourage their tenuous working relationship.
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ she said,
adding
casually,
‘w
here do you suggest?’
‘I often call at The
Conservatory
on my way home
. They stay open until late. T
he food’
s goo
d
too
, and
the view over the Indian Ocean
is
soothi
ng after a hard day
.’
‘
I haven’t eaten there before, so it will be good to try somewhere new. Right, then,
’
and
Verity
got busy
arranging the remaining papers into neat piles on her desk.
‘I’ll meet you
downstairs,
in the
car park
?’
At her nod, Royce
went on to say
,
‘We
may as well both go in
my car, no point
taking two
.
And you can drive mine here in the morning. I’m getting the shuttle to the airport.
If that’s OK with you
, of course
?’ he added quickly.
‘Makes sense.’
She gave a
nother
brisk
nod.
Conversation
was minimal as they
drove
into town. Royce leaned forward and loaded a
CD
, enquiring
offhandedly
, ‘Care for some music?’
Verity hardly had time to
answer
before a mell
ow blues number filled the car
.
She leaned back, enjoying
the smooth sounds of Clapton’s guitar,
and
took in the
BMW’s
luxurious appointments
.
Yes,
its interior luxury
, walnut dash and impressive display of electronic gadgetry were all very
nice, but she didn’t regret choosing a
more workmanlike four wheel drive
as her company vehicle
. Not only was it more functional and modest, but it
gave her
detractors
less reason to
criticise
. She knew they would be watching he
r every move, hoping she’d go overboard with her newly-won status
,
and slip up
.
She wondered id
ly how they would view
her going to dinner with Royce.
Well I’m not
about
to concern myself with that,
she told herself emphatically.
If he’s willing to bury the hatchet so we can share a reasonable working relationship, then I’m prepared to do my bit. After all, we’re business colleagues and need to be able to work effectively together.
She made herself
relax
in
to
the smooth comfort of the leather seat
, and
did her best not to let Royce catch her admiring
his strong and skilful hands on the steering wheel.
On their arrival at the restaurant, the Maitre d’ acknowledged Royce like an old friend
,
a
nd showed them into the
Watermark r
oom. From their table under a window
, Royce and Verity had an enviable view of the illuminated beach a few metres below. The strategically positioned floodlight
s
cast a soft blue-white
gleam on the waves as they tumbled and frothed to shore,
only
metres past the building’s foundations.
When the Maitre d’ came with the wine list, Verity couldn’t resist complimenting him on his restaurant’s location, before enquiring why he had chosen the name ‘Watermark’ for the private dining room.
‘Well, madam, there’s a story behind it, two in fact.
You see, some years ago, this building was the beach kiosk, hence its proximity to the beautiful Bunbury foreshore.
’ He swept a hand towards the beach.
‘
I realis
ed it had potential, and
decided to extend the building
by adding
another wing.
’
H
e
smiled proudly.
Verity
glanced
appreciatively
around the main dining area
, taking in the polished
timber
on the
floor, walls and ceiling. The
atmospheric lighting,
glass tabl
es on carved metal legs
teamed with
chic but comfortable wicker chairs, and the picture windows running the full length of the seaward wall,
all
gave the room a comfortable
, rather than imposing,
elegance.
‘Now, as to
naming
the
Watermark room
,’ he went on, ‘
while the building e
xtensions
were underway we had an unusually high tide
during
a wild storm. I was so afraid for my restaurant, I came here during the n
ight to watch over it. I knew I couldn’t stop
the ocean
if it decided to donate my building
to
Davy Jones’ locker, but I spent hou
rs huddled inside, praying
my pride and joy would survi
ve all
that
the elements were throwing at her
. I kept going to the window and checking how far the waves had extended onto the beach, watching them come closer and closer all the time.’