Gold Diggers (16 page)

She wheeled her bicycle a little bit further along the towpath and took a few random turns down backstreets, remembering a favourite game of when she was little – getting lost. Finally, she stopped outside a long row of black railings where she chained up the bike. There was a thick wedge of privets behind the railing, which made Erin instantly wonder what was behind them. She followed the railings until she found a rusty gate. Feeling a little naughty, she pushed it open and poked her head inside.

It was a beautiful old red-brick building. Its walls had been scrawled with graffiti, the windows were covered with chipboard, the drainpipes covered in moss. But the building itself was wonderful; proud and Gothic and just a little eerie, as if it had been an old workhouse. She looked up at the roof, which was missing half its slates, and thought that all those rooms hiding in its eaves would have magnificent views of the river and the Albert Bridge. She took out her mobile phone and used its little camera to capture the building’s image. It was perfect for a Midas Corporation boutique development. She would find out who owned it and report it to Adam immediately. That would put a smile on his face.

Karin Cavendish was not at home to Adam Gold. She did not answer her mobile, screened her calls and refused to accept the huge bouquets and neatly wrapped gifts he sent to her home and office. Adam had started bombarding Karin with phone calls the second she had left Anguilla, but she had made him wait. On the third day after she’d returned from St Barts, she finally took his call.

‘Well?’ she asked.

‘I want to make it up to you,’ said Adam.

‘You’re going to have to do something special.’

Karin had agreed to have dinner at Adam’s Knights-bridge duplex, but had maintained a frosty and aloof manner throughout the filet mignon and asparagus tips, concentrating instead on watching the London skyline spread out in front of them. Karin knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she wasn’t going to take Adam’s behaviour lying down: she simply couldn’t. If she sat back and accepted it without a grumble, where would it end? Even if she did get him up the aisle, Adam would still assume she was the dutiful, unquestioning consort, prepared to turn a blind eye to absolutely anything. No,
she would be giving him carte blanche to fuck anything that moved – and she had no doubt he would take full advantage of it. Of course, they both knew he could have any woman in London he chose, but Karin had a sneaking suspicion that Adam would respect a woman who played hard to get and who put her foot down. So she had carefully selected an outfit of skinny jeans, high heels and a fitted McQueen jumper and she had been encouraged to see that Adam had pulled all the stops out. His chef had prepared a fabulous supper of meltingly rare beef followed by a pistachio soufflé and the wine was an excellent Chateau Lafite ’83. The lights were low, the music soft. Unless she was much mistaken, this was his way of saying sorry. But Karin wanted to hear Adam say it out loud.

‘So, what did you want to talk about?’ she asked with faux innocence.

Adam shrugged, breaking off a corner of Poilâne bread and swirling it around a small, shallow dish of olive oil.

‘I want to talk about Anguilla,’ he said.

‘I thought that conversation was closed,’ she said coolly, enjoying her moment.

‘It is,’ said Adam. ‘I don’t want to talk about that, I want to talk about you.’

Karin was taken aback. ‘Don’t you mean you want to talk about
us
?’ she said.

Adam looked at her, gauging her, assessing her. ‘Anguilla was my first proper brush with the Karenza brand and I was impressed,’ he said, ‘very impressed.’

‘Are you referring to seeing a Karenza bikini up close? Oh sorry, I forgot; Tessa wasn’t wearing one.’

Karin immediately regretted saying it, but she couldn’t help herself.

A silence prickled between them, but Adam wasn’t going to be deflected by Karin’s sniping. He carried on, ignoring
her comment. ‘As you may know, the Midas Group acquired a building in St Tropez last year,’ he continued. ‘It’s a prime location right by the port and we’ve spent the last nine months developing it.’

‘Residential?’ asked Karin, immediately interested, her business instincts sensing an opportunity.

Adam shook his head. ‘No, a hotel, which opens next month, under management by the Sarkis Group of Hotels. However, twenty-five thousand feet of the ground floor is being kept aside for retail. A couple of luxury brands are taking units there, plus a yacht charter company, all pretty high end. However, one of the best units has just become vacant; you know what I think it would be perfect for?’

Butterflies were fluttering around Karin’s belly. ‘Karenza St Tropez.’

Her breathing had quickened now. She had long realized that if she was going to launch the swimwear brand on a global scale, she had to expand internationally. She was stocked in Fred Segal in LA, Neiman Marcus in Miami and a select handful of other concessions in upmarket shopping districts, but a store would give her brand identity much greater impact.

‘It’s something I’ve already considered,’ said Karin, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice, ‘either a Malibu, Palm Beach or St Tropez outlet. But I would need to look into financing, and location obviously is key. It is possibly a little early for expansion so, if we are going to do it, we need to hit the bull’s-eye first time.’

Adam smiled. ‘I think you’ll find there is no better retail location in St Tropez. It is also a small unit, so you shouldn’t be overstretching yourself.’

She looked out at the twinkling London skyline, adrenaline coursing through her like a sexual thrill. Karenza St Tropez! It was perfect! But she was damned if she was going to show her enthusiasm to Adam.

‘Well, it’s a big decision …’ she said, toying with the stem of her glass. ‘Somewhere like Palm Beach would possibly be better as a first international outpost – more year-round appeal. St Tropez is a ghost town out of season.’

Adam went into sales mode. ‘But Palm Beach means expanding into America – that’s a big step. Too big, possibly for now. I would have thought St Tropez is a better initial fit. Granted you’ll only be in business for six months of the year, but for those months the market will be brisk and the target audience perfect. Plus it’s close to London so you can keep tight control on it.’

His eyes flirted with hers. ‘Why don’t we fly down this weekend at least and have a look at it?’

‘Adam, slow down, please,’ said Karin, excited but still wary. She stood up and took her wine to the window, staring out into the dark night. She was tempted, really tempted. Business wasn’t about remaining static, it was about moving forward – and now was the time. Worldwide sales were brisk; her financial director Ed Sassoon had been urging her to find other sites while turnover in both Karenza UK stores was so healthy. Not that Karin was afraid of the expansion, either. She wanted Karenza to grow from a niche swimwear line into the ultimate jet-set brand as soon as possible but, for that, she needed serious investment. Jimmy Choo had pulled it off, while Erès had been bought out by Chanel after thirty years. Well, Karin Cavendish wasn’t going to wait thirty years. She looked into Adam’s eyes. ‘I really must look into the company’s financial position before we continue this conversation,’ she said, suddenly the in-control businesswoman. ‘Karenza is wholly owned by myself and I want it to remain that way for the foreseeable future.’

‘In that case, don’t you want to hear me out?’

Karin eyed him suspiciously. ‘What are you proposing?’

‘That I take a small percentage of the business in return for the St Tropez outlet. I can get Marcus and our team to work out a fair shareholding …’

‘You have got to be kidding!’ she said fiercely. ‘You could be potentially getting something as valuable as Gucci – and for what? The price of the rent on a beach boutique? I really don’t think so!’

She saw that Adam was chuckling. He beckoned her back to the table. When she was close, he curled his hand around her waist and pulled her onto his knee. She tried to move away, but he was strong, nuzzled his lips into her neck. ‘This isn’t always how I conduct my business negotiations,’ he murmured into her neck.

‘Well, I have made my position clear,’ she said, trying to remain firm, but a small smile beginning to curl on her lips.

‘You’re no pushover, are you?’ he said, releasing her.

‘I thought you’d have worked that out by now,’ said Karin, holding her head high as she sat down opposite him and poured herself another glass of wine.

‘So we’ll leave it that I’m turning down your proposition, shall we?’ she said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

‘It was worth a try,’ he smiled. ‘However, the offer still stands.’

She tilted her head in question. ‘I want you to take the unit,’ he said.

‘Adam, I am not giving you a share in the company,’ she responded tartly. He held up his hands in surrender.

‘Look, take the unit. Have it rent-free for the year. It will do the development good to have the Karenza brand on the site. And, if you ever bring out a men’s range, just remember to keep me in shorts,’ he grinned.

Karin almost burst out laughing, but knew she had to contain herself. She subtly pulled at her top to give a flash
of cleavage and flicked a curtain of raven hair over her shoulder.

‘It’s a very generous offer,’ she said finally, ‘but one I can’t accept. You may remember telling me when we first met that you never mix business with pleasure.’

Adam stood up and walked round behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, letting his fingers slide under the thin jersey of her jumper. ‘So you see yourself as pleasure, do you?’ he breathed huskily into her ear.

She let Adam’s hands glide deeper and deeper under the sheer fabric while maintaining a cool, professional voice. ‘I’ll consider the St Tropez store carefully but, if I accept, I insist that we pay you the full market value.’

‘How about we look a bit more into that pleasure you were just talking about?’ he purred. ‘And then maybe we’ll see if we can’t come to some arrangement. Full market value is an awfully high price to pay.’

She turned to face him, pushing her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. As they kissed, Karin opened her eyes and smiled. She knew that she had played it perfectly.

They were going to Nobu Berkeley for lunch. For a second, Erin had felt nervous when Adam had suggested it, but she was sure she hadn’t done anything wrong; and anyway, would he really take her to a swish eatery if he was planning to fire her? Think positive, she told herself, as she applied her make-up with extra care that morning; he probably just wants to dictate a letter. But she had worn her new Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress all the same.

As they walked into the restaurant, all heads turned. Erin was getting used to the reaction; the presence of a New York billionaire still set tongues wagging six months after his arrival in London. The difference today was that she wasn’t trailing six feet behind him, carrying an armful of papers and folders, mobile locked to her ear, harassed and stressed. Today, Erin was by his side. And it felt good.

‘Would you like me to order for you?’ asked Adam as they settled into the banquette seat. ‘The yellowtail sashimi is particularly good.’

The only Japanese food Erin had ever had was Prêt à Manger sushi, although her tastes had been on a definite upward curve since the truffles in Chris’s flat. She could
now tell her cosmopolitans from her caipirinhas but, looking at the menu, she still had no idea what sashimi was. Or yaki for that matter. She wanted to tell Adam that she didn’t want anything raw, but she knew that wouldn’t exactly give the idea of sophistication she was striving for. ‘Yellowtail it is then,’ she smiled, hoping it wouldn’t make her sick.

‘I really should have taken you out for lunch before,’ said Adam, summoning the wine waiter, ‘but I don’t need to tell you how busy we are.’

Erin willed herself to say something funny or witty or clever, but instead all she could do was sit there.

‘I don’t know what your career plan was before you started at Midas,’ he continued, ‘Something about interpreting or translating, wasn’t it?’ Erin nodded. She hadn’t told him about her novel. While Adam was always banging on about the importance of using the best creatives – by which he meant interior designers or architects – she doubted he would hold much truck with authors. Writing a novel was hardly Wall Street.

‘I know working for Midas fell into your lap, but I really think you have a long-term future with the company – if you want it, that is.’

Erin blushed at the praise.

‘You’re bright, resourceful and you have a good eye.’ He pointed a finger in the air to emphasize a point. ‘That building in Battersea you brought to me was a gem. It will make a nice acquisition for Midas’s senior apartment division. There’s a growing demand from the over-fifty-fives who want design-led properties in city centres.’

Erin thought of Jilly and her group of friends living in trendy apartments opposite the Thames and giggled. ‘The retired people I know live in cottages and make Cornish pasties. I can’t see them popping out for cappuccinos.’

‘Rule number one, Erin,’ Adam said seriously. ‘Don’t think
about what people want or need now. You have to be predictive. Remember that the new generation of pensioners grew up listening to the Beatles. Old people are pretty cool now. You’ve always got to guess what people are going to want in five years, even ten years.’

She’d read enough about Adam by now to know that was exactly how he had made his money. People had laughed at him after the 1992 crash for going into property, buying up skyscrapers and developing disused warehouses in unfashionable parts of town like Tribeca, but he’d been able to cash them in as they became trendy.

‘I want to learn from you, Adam,’ said Erin, hoping she didn’t sound too gushy. ‘I’d love to get more involved.’

‘What do you like about property?’ he smiled, taking a tuna roll between chopsticks. ‘What do you like about our business?’

She had come out for lunch, not an interview, but she couldn’t choke now. She took a sip of green tea and thought back to the moment when she had found the Battersea building and the adrenaline rush it had given her.

‘It’s creative,’ she said, her face flushing slightly, ‘and kind of romantic too. You come across a building. Maybe it’s neglected, or no one wants it, or maybe
everybody
wants it and you have to head the competition off at the pass. You develop it, nurture it, and then, just as you’ve got it how you want it, you have to let it go.’

Adam was smiling to himself and nodding. ‘I’ve always thought the process was a little like a love affair, too.’

His green gaze met hers and Erin felt a flutter of excitement. ‘You won’t know this,’ said Adam, ‘but Eleanor handed her notice in to me this morning. She’s going back to New York.’

‘Eleanor leaving!’ said Erin. ‘But I thought she was devoted to you.’

‘Well, it seems “was” is the word,’ he smiled. ‘Apparently I worked her so hard she didn’t socialize, never went to parties or bars and consequently she never met anyone. But then a couple of weeks before she was due to come to England, she fell in love with some guy who works for FedEx who kept coming into the office to pick up my packages.’

‘You can’t begrudge her that,’ laughed Erin.

‘Of course, I’m happy for her. Anyway, that leaves a vacancy as my executive assistant.’ He paused and stared at her while Erin felt her heart stop.

‘Me?’ she asked quietly.

‘Erin. This is a considerable step up from what you’re doing now. This isn’t just diary dates and RSVPing to parties. You have to be my eyes and ears. You’ll be making decisions that affect the company. You know that some CEO’s exec assistants have MBAs from Harvard? Well, you’ve got my faith.’

Erin’s head whirled. Adam made it sound like an honour. He made her feel special. He made her feel wanted. Erin looked at Adam and she wanted him right back.

‘I won’t let you down,’ she said.