Doukakis's Apprentice (6 page)

Except that Damon Doukakis had brought the future into the present.

Polly thought about the office she’d just left. Until they’d been forced to strip it bare, the walls had been covered in framed copies of their advertising campaigns, photographs and pictures of past office parties. On her desk she’d kept numerous objects that cheered her up and made her smile. And she had Romeo and Juliet.

Here, there were no walls on which to put photographs. No cosy staffroom with soft armchairs and a gurgling coffee
machine. Everywhere she looked there was chrome, glass and an industrious silence.

Hoping fish weren’t afraid of heights, she stared around her. ‘So is this going to be our floor?’

‘No. I’m showing you an example of efficiency in action. Take a good look around, Miss Prince.
This
is how a successful company looks. To you it probably feels like landing on an alien planet.’ His sensuous mouth curved into a sardonic smile. ‘In order to cause minimum disruption to the rest of my operation I’ve allocated a separate floor to your operation.’ Without waiting for her response, he pushed open a door and took the stairs two at a time. Polly poked her tongue out at his back and followed more slowly, envying his athleticism.

Following him through another set of doors, she found herself on another floor, completely circled in glass.

All the boxes and equipment had already been transferred from her old offices and the staff of Prince Advertising were laughing and joking together as they unpacked.

As they waved to her, Polly felt her eyes sting. They were so optimistic and excited. They had no idea how fragile their future was.

The responsibility almost flattened her.

‘This is yours.’ Damon gestured across the floor with his hand. ‘There are meeting rooms over there, all of which can be used for sensitive phone calls that can’t be made in open plan.’ As he finished speaking the lift doors opened and Polly saw Debbie and Jen stagger out of the lift carrying boxes. After a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ as they saw the view, they put down the boxes.

‘This is the last of it. Now we can start settling in. Won’t take us long to make the place home. Not that my home looks anything like this,’ Debbie said cheerfully. ‘Where’s the kettle?’

Polly caught sight of the shock in Damon Doukakis’s eyes
and realised that the only way she was going to stand a chance of preserving jobs was if she kept everyone as far away from the boss as possible. She had to protect them. ‘Mr Doukakis, I haven’t had a chance to send that presentation through to you. I copied it onto a flash drive so you can open it up on your own computer. Debs, if you could supervise the unpacking, that would be great.’

‘Sure thing. I’ll have to work out which of the plants like sunlight because there’s a lot of sunlight in this building.’ Deb tugged off her shoes and prepared to get stuck into the work. ‘This place is epic.’

‘Whatever you need to do.’ Deciding that the reason the staff appeared to have no internal radar warning them of danger was because they’d worked for her father for so long, Polly frantically tried to distract their new boss. ‘Perhaps we should have the meeting in your office as there is going to be some disruption on this floor.’

‘Disruption appears to be a comfortable working environment for you. Are those—’ he did a double take as Debbie reached into another box and, together with Jen, lifted out a huge bucket ‘—
fish
?’

Oh, God…

‘You gave us four hours’ notice of an office move,’ Polly muttered. ‘There wasn’t time to negotiate relocation. We’ll have the tank set up in no time and no one is even going to know they’re here.’

‘Tank?!’

‘You’re the one who insisted the whole company move here. The fish are part of the company.’

‘You keep fish?’

‘Look at it this way. They’re not going to bother anyone and you don’t have to pay them. They’re motivational without being costly.’

Her feeble attempt to lighten the situation fell flat. Damon
Doukakis didn’t smile. Instead he turned his gaze on Polly. Silence spread across the room and Polly was hideously aware that everyone was listening.

The atmosphere changed from one of carnival to one of consternation.

Pinned by that intense, dark stare Polly felt his disapproval slam into her with lethal force.

‘My office,’ he growled. ‘Right now.’

‘T
AKE
my calls, Janey.’ Dropping his phone onto his PA’s desk, Damon strode into his office with Polly following close behind.

The moment he heard the door close, he turned, intending to launch a blistering attack on the sloppy, unprofessional attitude of her staff, but the sight of her swaying in the centre of his enormous office killed the words before they left his mouth.

He’d never seen anyone more miserable or more ex hausted.

Whatever else was going on, he could see Polly Prince had had one hell of a week. It couldn’t have been easy watching her cushy life slip through her fingers. A few more strands of that shiny blonde hair had escaped from the restraining clip on top of her head, there were black smudges under her violet eyes, and her cheeks were the same pristine white as his shirt.

Standing in the centre of his enormous office, she reminded him of a lone gazelle that had lost the rest of its herd.

‘What?’ She was watching him warily. ‘Do you think you could stop frowning at everyone? It’s really hard to operate in an atmosphere of terror.’

‘I do
not
create an atmosphere of terror.’

‘How do you know? You’re not the one on the receiving end.’

‘We do three-hundred-and-sixty-degree reviews here. If staff feel
afraid
, they have the opportunity to say so.’

‘Unless they’re too afraid to say so.’ Tiredness laced itself through her voice and suddenly her shoulders drooped slightly, as if the effort of maintaining all that attitude was just too much. ‘Look, I know you think I’m a complete waste of space and actually …’ She paused and pushed her hair away from her face. ‘Actually, I don’t completely blame you for that because all the evidence points in that direction, but sometimes things aren’t entirely as they seem.’

‘Your company is a circus. What exactly isn’t as it seems?’

‘We may look chaotic to you, but we work well in a relax, informal atmosphere. It helps us be creative.’

‘If that’s your way of asking if you can keep the fish, the answer is no. I don’t allow pets in my offices.’

‘Romeo and Juliet aren’t pets, exactly. They’re an integral part of the workforce. They cheer people up and staff motivation is hugely important. I’m asking you to relax your rigid principles for five minutes. You might be surprised what a bit of work enjoyment does.’

‘What I think,’ Damon said slowly, ‘is that the way you do business is sloppy and unprofessional.’ And the irony was, he wasn’t even interested in the business. He’d taken control in a desperate attempt to flush Peter Prince out of hiding but so far it hadn’t worked. There had been no contact.

The knowledge that Analisa could have called him and hadn’t added layers of pain and anxiety to his anger. She always accused him of being over-protective, and maybe he was, but was it really being over-protective to want to prevent someone you loved from being hurt?

The affair was doomed, and the thought of having to deal with a heartbroken Arianna sent a cold chill through his body.

Once before he’d held her as she’d sobbed and he never wanted to do that again.
Never wanted to see his sister that sad.

Polly was frowning at him. ‘Look, I know this whole thing
is a mess, but give me a chance.’ There was a desperate note to her voice. ‘Now that you’ve got rid of the board, I know I can turn this company around.’

‘You?’
Her astonishing claim momentarily distracted him from thoughts of his sister.

‘Yes, me. At least let me try.’

For the first time since he’d walked into the Prince headquarters, Damon felt like laughing. ‘You’re asking me to give you free rein to do more of what you’ve been doing?’

‘I know you won’t believe me but I
do
know what our business needs to make it successful.’

‘It needs someone at the helm who isn’t afraid to take tough decisions. The fish have to go. I’m not running an aquarium. All you need to do your job is a laptop and an internet connection. I assume you have heard of both those things?’

But he had to admit he was surprised by her vigorous and ongoing defence of the staff. She appeared to care passionately whether they lost their jobs or not.

Presumably it had finally come home to her that if the company crashed, she’d be out of a job and an inheritance.

So pale she looked as though she might pass out, she walked towards him and put a flash drive on his desk. ‘The file you want is on there. Look at the numbers. Ninety percent of our expenses were attributed to one percent of the staff. You just got rid of that one percent. Those same people were on the highest salaries but made the smallest contribution to the company. You just made a massive saving on our operating costs.’

Damon found himself distracted by the tempting curve of her lower lip. ‘I’m surprised you even know what an operating cost is.’

‘Please open the file.’

Ruthlessly deleting thoughts of sex, Damon slid the flash
drive into his computer and opened the document. ‘Do I read from the beginning of this fairy story?’

‘It isn’t a fairy story. You’ll see from this that we’ve pitched for six new pieces of business in the last three months. We won all six accounts. One of those was against your own advertising team. We beat them. The client said our pitch was the most creative and exciting he’d seen.’ There was an energy and confidence about her that was at odds with his impression of her and Damon was genuinely surprised.

‘Creative and exciting doesn’t send a company bankrupt.’

‘No, but high overheads can. And so can bad management. We suffered from both.’

‘Your father was in charge. Who exactly are you blaming?’

‘Blame is a waste of time. I’m just asking you to look at the facts and help us move forward.’ She hesitated. ‘I know you’re good at what you do, but we’re good too. Together we could be incredible. I’ll be downstairs helping the staff settle in if you want to talk about this. Start by looking at these figures.’ She leaned across his desk and pressed a key on his computer and a strand of that rebellious hair floated against his cheek, soft as down.

Damon lifted a hand to brush it away at the same time she did and her fingers tangled with his. Scarlet-faced, she jumped back, clearly as horrified by the contact as he was.

‘You don’t need my help with this—just—it’s self-explanatory.’ She tucked the offending strand behind her ear and Damon watched, transfixed by those delicate fingers tipped with painted nails.

‘Is that—?’ His attention caught, he narrowed his eyes and squinted at her nails but she quickly whipped her hands behind her back.

‘Just take a look at that presentation.’

‘Show me your hands.’

There was a mutinous flash in her eyes but she stuck out her hands. ‘There.’

‘You have a skull and crossbones painted on your nails.’

‘It’s called nail art. I use different stencils.’

‘And you chose a skull and crossbones for today?’

She gave a tiny shrug. ‘It seemed appropriate. Look, I know you think this is all frivolous but one of our clients owns a major brand in nail colour. We did a fantastic cover mount on one of the big women’s glossies last summer, and—Never mind—it’s all in the figures. What are you doing?’ The stream of nervous chatter died as he took her hands firmly in his.

Making a sound in her throat, she gave a little pull but Damon tightened his grip. Her hands were smooth and delicate and he was blinded by a sudden image of those slim fingers closing around a certain part of him.

Raw sexual awareness burned through his body, brutal in its intensity. He felt her hands tremble in his. The confidence and assurance melted away from her, leaving confusion in its place.

Damon wondered if the air-conditioning in his office had broken. The atmosphere had suddenly become heavy and oppressive.

Even as he was in the process of reminding himself that this girl’s father was the source of his current problems, she snatched her hands away and stepped back. ‘I’ll leave you to read the presentation.’

Damon felt mildly disorientated.

What the hell was he doing?

‘Yes. Go.’ If she hadn’t already been leaving of her own free will he would have ejected her from his office with supersonic speed. Not wanting to examine his own behaviour too closely, he dragged his gaze back to the document on the screen but all he saw was golden hair and long nails.

Forcing himself to focus, he concentrated on the first slide.
One glance told him that it had been prepared by someone computer literate and numerate. In fact it was the first sign of professionalism he’d seen since he walked through the doors of Prince Advertising.

He stopped thinking about Analisa and analysed the data in front of him.

‘Wait—’ He stopped her as she reached the door. ‘Who did this?’ His rough demand was met by a long, pulsing silence and then she turned to face him.

‘I did.’

‘You mean Mr Anderson gave you the information and you collated it.’

‘No, I mean I put together the information I thought you’d need to be able to make an informed decision about the future of the company.’

Damon glanced at the complexity of the data on the screen and then back at her. ‘I consider it a serious offence to take credit for someone else’s work.’

A wry smile tilted the corners of her mouth. ‘Really? It makes a refreshing change to hear that from someone in authority. Maybe we’ll work well together after all.’

Damon stared at the spreadsheet, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. ‘What exactly was your official role in the company?’

‘I was my father’s executive assistant, which basically means I did a bit of everything.’

A bit of everything. ‘So this isn’t Mr Anderson’s spreadsheet?’

‘Mr Anderson couldn’t switch the laptop on, let alone create a spreadsheet.’

Damon leaned back in his chair. ‘So you’re good with computers?’

‘I’m good with a lot of things, Mr Doukakis. Just because I wear pink tights and have fun with my nails it doesn’t make
me stupid any more than wearing jeans would make you approachable.’ She still had her hand on the door handle, as if she was ready to run at a moment’s notice. ‘I need to get back downstairs. Having your future in someone else’s hands is very traumatic for everyone. It would mean a lot if next time you go down there you could maybe smile or say an encouraging word.’

‘They should be grateful I’ve taken control. Without me your business would have been bankrupt within three months.’ And in an attempt to protect his sister he’d landed himself with still more responsibility for jobs and lives. He felt like Atlas, holding the heavens on his shoulders.

‘We’ve had problems with our cash flow, but—’

‘Is there any part of the business you
haven’t
had problems with?’

‘The clients love us because we’re very creative.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘All I want is your assurance that there will be no redundancies.’

‘I can’t make that assurance until I’ve unravelled the mess your father has created.’

‘I
know
parts of the business have problems. I’m not going to pretend they don’t. But I’m asking you to look deeper and learn about how we work before you make an irrational decision.’

‘Irrational?’ Brows raised with incredulity, Damon leaned forwards in his chair. ‘You think I make irrational decisions?’

‘Normally, no. But in this case—’ she breathed slowly ‘—yes. I think you’re so angry with my father, and you feel so helpless about your sister, you were willing to do anything that might give you back some element of control. And as for the way you feel about me—you haven’t forgotten I’m the reason your sister was permanently excluded from school at fourteen. I really messed that up, I admit it, but don’t use something
I
did ten years ago to punish the staff. That wouldn’t be fair.’

Damon sat still, forced to acknowledge that there was at least a partial truth in her accusation. Had he been unfair to judge her on something that had happened when she was still young? ‘Go and settle the staff in downstairs.’ His tone was rougher than he’d intended. ‘I’ll call you if I have any questions.’

An hour later he had more questions than he had answers. Exasperated, he hit a button on his phone and summoned his finance director. ‘Ellen, can you come in here?’ His eyes still fixed on his computer screen, he drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. ‘And bring the salary details for the Prince people. There’s something wrong with the numbers.’

Moments later he was staring at another set of figures that still didn’t make sense. Trying to unravel the puzzle, he stood up abruptly. ‘According to this information, all of these people took a salary cut six months ago. And his daughter has barely been paid a living wage for the past two years.’

‘I know. I’ve been going over the figures too.’ Ellen spread the summary pages over his desk. ‘The company is barely afloat. It’s a small agency with the overheads of a big agency.’

‘But the board are primarily responsible for those overheads.’ Polly Prince had been right in her assessment, he thought grimly. The board had been sucking the company dry. First-class flights. Elaborate lunches. Thousand-pound bottles of vintage wine… The list went on and on.

‘They’re in serious financial trouble. They’ve been hit by the economic downturn but made no compensatory moves. Peter Prince badly needed to trim staff. Instead they appear to have agreed to take a cut rather than allow anyone to be laid off.’ Ellen adjusted her glasses. ‘The business is a mess of course, but you knew that when you bought it. On the plus side they have some surprisingly good accounts and somehow they’ve just won a major piece of business with the French
company Santenne. Their leading brand is High Kick Hosiery. That’s going to be huge. Didn’t our people pitch for that?’

‘Yes.’ The news that they’d lost out to Prince Advertising did nothing to improve Damon’s mood. ‘So how did Prince win it? They’re the most shambolic operation I’ve ever encountered.’

‘That’s true. Financially and structurally they’re a disaster. Creatively—well, I assume you’ve seen this?’ A strange light in her eyes, his finance director handed him a folder she’d brought with her.