Read His Lordships Daughter Online

Authors: Brian A de'Ville,Stewart Vaughan

His Lordships Daughter (7 page)

“In pole position?”

Steven frowned. “Joking apart, Phyllipa please…”
he pleaded, ignoring her wishes on formality. “Please allow us to do one job at a time eh?”

She smiled. “You look very attractive when you get annoyed.”

“Please.” He urged.

It was Phyllipa’s turn to frown. “Look, Mister Grant. I am going to load this company with work whether you like it or not.” She peered into his face. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want the contracts?”

“Of course I do. It’s just that there are a lot of technicalities about this industry, and I don’t think that…”

“You don’t think I’m up to it.” Phyllipa cut in, an angry look on her face, “Do you? You doubt my word.”

“Not your word.” The MD protested, “Your ability.” He spread his hands, palm upwards. “It’s very complex.”

She looked at him, almost coldly. “Last night you told me that I hadn’t a snowball in hell’s chance of bringing in the Kristex contract.”

“I haven’t changed my mind on that. I still don’t think you will.”

Phyllipa’s face flushed slightly. “Listen!” She told him, furious that he doubted her. “Today I will bring you that contract.”

Hey boss’s eyes narrowed and looked at her, curiously. “What do you mean, “
Today
”!”

“I’m having lunch with their chairman.”

“With their chairman.” Echoed Steven incredulously.

“With their chairman.” She affirmed.

“Well, don’t you think I should be with you, purely on the tech side.”

“No I don’t.
You
are the one who keeps telling me I won

t get it.”

Steven banged his arms down on Phyllipa’s desk and held his head in his hands whilst Phyllipa looked on and smiled. “I still think I should be with you.” He pleaded.

“Out of the question.” She said. “I don’t want any non-believers with me. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to discover the secret of my modus operandi, would
I
?

The Managing Director rose to his feet, stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and glared annoyingly at her. “There are a million words which I would like to say to you.” A hard glint appeared in his eye. “But when it comes down to it, I can only ever think of one. “Difficult!” that’s the one, you are very very difficult.”

“You didn’t say that last night, Steven did you?”

His handsome face softened “Did you enjoy my company?”

“I loved the flowers.” She answered, flippantly. Bending, he put his face next to hers. “And my company?” he whispered in her ear.

Phyllipa turned her head, sharply, snagging her delicate mouth across his cheek, but before he could utter a word, she was out of her chair and into his arms, pulling his warm mouth to meet her own. Her body wriggled, melting into the contour of her companion and for a fleeting moment only their clothing prevented their bodies welding together.

It was Phyllipa who broke away, conscious of her bodily appetite hungering for this man. She shivered at the very thought of having him between her loins and the delight it would entail. But, she told herself, overjoyed that she could put a rein check on her burning sexuality, that the timing was not quite right. She smiled at the consoling thought that it would be. Oh yes, it will be she whispered to herself.

Steven straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair. “Last night.” He repeated. “Did you enjoy my company?”

“Of course I did!” her face glowed “Of course!”

“Then we can do it again. Tonight?” but Phyllipa shook her head.

“Not tonight.” She looked at the Tag Heur on her wrist. “I have an appointment, remember? So I won’t be back in the works today.” She put on a teasing smile, “But, tomorrow you will have that contract.”

“Can I phone you?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ignoring his question as she snatched her handbag and car keys and walked to the door.

“Good luck.” Her boss shouted
. “You are going to need it.”

A look of resignation appeared on her face as she swung around on him. “You still don’t believe me do you?”

Steven shook his head. “I don’t know what to believe.”

The MD watched her leave, noting the easy way her body made of walking, and he bit his lip in frustration. Every move she made was sheer poetry and he knew he was helplessly in love with her.

Sighing, he was walking through the print floor, past the offices when he remembered the slip of paper which Phyllipa had given him last night. Taking it from his pocket he walked back and called in to see June, his secretary. “This is M
s
Gore’s home address. See that it goes on file.

“Well!” June said, wryly. “Congratulations! At least we know where she lives.”

“Yes it’s a start.” The MD chuckled, walking back to his own office, leaving June looking at the slip of paper in her hand. For the tenth time se re-read the address printed on it. It was the Knightsbridge flat of her
fiancé
, Clive Braseby, the banker.

All sorts of things rushed through her head but none of them made any sense. Suddenly, conscious of her stomach turning over, she sat down heavily. Something wasn’t quite right , in all the time she had known Clive, she had never heard him mention the name of Phyllipa Gore, yet here she was living in one of his flats. “His bit on the side.” She asked herself as her stomach did something else. “I don’t think so.” Shaking her head, rising from her chair, she walked down the corridor to her boss’s office.
“Are you sure this address of Ms Gore is correct.” with
a slight tremble in her voice.

Steven looked up from his work. “What’s wrong with it?”

His secretary shook her head, not quite sure of herself. She co
uldn’t voice her fears to him
, Clive’s insistence for completely privacy about their relationship was paramount to her. “I just wondered if it was correct, that’s all.”

“It’s the only one she gave me.”

“Oh, well, I’ll check it out.” She walked back to her office.

For a few seconds Steven stared at the closing door. Why was everything to do with their latest employee open to suspicion? Now her address was being questioned. Staring into space, he suddenly shrugged h
is shoulders, dismissively, and
returned to his work.

 

 

Chapter 7

 

Sipping a glass of soda water and ice Phyllipa looked across the table at Michael Renton, chairman of Kristex.

“I only want the contract for twelve months.” She pleaded. They were sitting in the Blue room of the Davenport Hotel, a favourite watering hole of the Inchcape-Gores, having lunch.

The Chairman shook his head. “
Much
as I would like to help you Phyllipa, I don’t think I am going to be able to.” He took a gulp of whisky and pushed a fork full of prime Scotch beef into his mouth.

“Why what’s the problem?”

“I’m the Chairman of the company! I don’t poke my nose into those
sorts
of things. My Buying office handles all that sort of stuff.

Phyllipa smiled, but there was just a hint of coldness about it. “You amaze me Michael, I don’t know much about business but, I would have thought that within your organisation you would be all powerful?”

“To a degree I am.” He agreed, looking over his metal framed glasses at his companion. “But, I don’t want someone screaming “nepotism” at me!”

She laughed “Nepotism? Come on Michael, you are one of my Godfathers, that’s all. I do have three others.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Well you know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t but, I can see you are not minded to help me? Yet, by my asking, you already know it is important to me.”

“I would do almost anything in the world for you, but not that.” He flatly said. “Besides, if it will soften the blow of my refusal, where packaging is concerned we work two years in front. The amount of material involved necessitates holding huge reserve stocks.

Phyllipa looked at him again “Twelve months! That’s all I’m asking.”

“Sorry!” he said shaking his head.

Drinking her chilled soda water, she toyed with her cold salmon and salad “I don’t blame you really Michael, for not wanting to assist me in this matter.

“It’s not me Phyllipa. Not me personally, it just wouldn’t be good company policy at this moment.”
             
“Yes I understand that. But let’s talk about the second half of last year, shall we? Your dividend was what the stock market called…” she narrowed her eyes for a second or two as if trying to recall something… “What was it they said? Oh yes, “unimpressive” that was the word.” She sat back in her chair laughing “I won’t tell you what my father called it.”

The chairman looked up, forgetting his food, alarm crossing his face “You wouldn’t Phyllipa, Would you?”

“Try me!” she challenged
.

“But it wouldn’t be fair!” he looked around the crowded restaurant as if expecting help from someone. “Damn! It wouldn’t be cricket!”

Phyllipa slowly shook her head. “That is not the game we are playing Michael. My family have a big chunk of money invested in your company and if it’s not earning what it should be, then we switch it into something which is earning what it should.” She sipped her soda water again. “I’m sure you get my drift.”

The chairman took out a large handkerchief and wiped his forehead which had suddenly got very warm. “How long did you say you wanted the contract for?” he asked gulping some Scotch with a slightly shaky hand.

“Twelve months.” Phyllipa folded up her napkin.

He drank the rest of his whisky, quickly took his glasses off and cleaned them with his handkerchief. Then he nodded “Alright! Twelve months!”

“I’m very grateful Michael.”

The chairman looked at her “There will be a letter in tonight’s post. Where to?”

“What do you mean where to?”

“The company, Phyllipa?”

She laughed “Of course, silly me! SG Packaging. You’ll find them in the book.” She got up from the table. “I have to go.”

The chairman made an effort to rise, but she stopped him. “Please don’t get up, enjoy your meal Michael. Everything has been taken care of, and thank you once again” her eyes twinkled. “I knew I could rely on you. But as I said before, I know so little about business.”

“You don’t have to Phyllipa!” the chairman muttered to himself watching her leave the restaurant “Not with the sort of pressure you can use.”

 

Although she had told Steven she wouldn’t be back in her office that afternoon, she decided to return there as she wished to clear some outstanding business up. Entering the company office, she watched June banging away on a Word Processor. She was very fast, her fingers almost blurred as she hammered the keys. Looking up from her work, she spotted her visitor and waved. “Hi! I’m glad you called in. I’d like a word….won’t be a minute.” Phyllipa took a seat and waited, finally completing the typing, June swung round on her. “There’s a little pub around the corner,” she confided. “We all use it. It’s called the Bull’s Head.”

Phyllipa nodded. “Yes, I know it.”

“I wondered if you would care to have a drink with me after we finish.” She checked wrist watch. “Which will be in about five
minute’s
time. We’ve got to talk!”

“Have we?” Phyllipa joked, wondering what on earth about.

“It’s confidential!” June banged on the printer with her hand. “This has been playing up a bit, lately, but it always seems to work quicker if I hit it.” She laughed as she hit again. It made a funny noise then started printing again.

“Actually, I called in to sort out these salary cheques of mine. “Phyllipa told her. June pulled a drawer open, lifted out a cardboard file, opened it and passed it over. “They are all in there.”

Phyllipa glanced at the contents. “Could I ask a favour?”

“Of course. At your command!”

For a few seconds, Phyllipa looked at her curiously, then closing the file handed them back. “Would you send these to the “Save
the
children f
und”

June looked surprised. “All of them?”

“Plus all future ones.”

June nodded. “Will do.” Grabbing her handbag, she looked at her face in a small mirror. “Let’s go.”

It was only a short walk to the Bull’s Head and within minutes they were sitting comfortably in the small lounge. Phyllipa opted for her usual soda water and ice, but June liked something stronger. “Gin and tonic for me. I love one at the end of the day.”

They sipped their drinks and Phyllipa looked at June.

“Now, tell what it is that is so confidential?”

June placed her glass on the table. “I’m engaged to be married.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“My fiancée tells me he is a friend of yours.”

“Really?”

“Clive Hunter Braseby!”

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