The Heiress's Secret Baby (4 page)

Polly’s head snapped round. No way. He knew the names of every staff member and all about the health of their pets too?

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Beaufils, she’s desperate to go outside but she’s doing really well.’ Emily was smiling back, her voice a little breathy.

‘They can be such a responsibility,
non
? I ’ave...’

Had he just dropped an aitch?
Really?
Polly had known him for what, an hour? And she already knew perfectly well that Gabe spoke perfect, almost accentless English. Unless, it seemed, he was talking to petite redheads. She coughed and could have sworn she saw a glimmer of laughter in the depths of his almost-black eyes as he continued.

‘I ’ave been looking after Mademoiselle Rafferty’s cat for the last few weeks. He is a rascal, that one. Such a huge responsibility.’

‘They are,’ Emily said earnestly, her huge eyes fixed on his. ‘But worth it.’

‘
Oui
, the way they purr. So trusting.’

That was it. Polly felt ill just listening. ‘So greedy,’ she said briskly. ‘And so prone to eviscerating small mammals under the bed. If you’re ready, Gabe, shall we continue? Nice work,’ she said to Emily, unable to keep a sarcastic tone from her voice. ‘Keep it up.’ And without a backwards glance she swept from the department.

* * *

It had been an interesting morning. Gabe was well aware that he had been well and truly sized up, tested and judged. What the verdict was he had no idea.

Nor, truth be told, was he that interested. He had his own weighing up to do.

Tough, but not as tough as she thought. Surprisingly stylish for someone who lived and breathed work; the sharp little suit she was wearing would pass muster in the most exclusive streets in Paris—unusual for an Englishwoman. He liked how she wasn’t afraid of her height, accentuating it with heels, the blonde hair swept up into a knot adding an extra couple of centimetres.

And she wasn’t going to give him an inch. The solution to the offices was masterful. It was going to be fun working with her.

He loved a good game.

Gabe strode through the foyer, smiling at Rachel as she looked up with a blush. Maybe he should have gone a little easier on the flirting. He wouldn’t make that mistake with his own assistant—he would request a guy or, even better, a motherly woman who would keep all unwanted callers away and feed him home-made cake. He made a note to keep an eye on the ‘interests’ section of any applicants’ CVs.

He opened the door to Polly’s office without knocking; after all they were sharing it.

‘This is going to be fun,’ he said as Polly looked up from her computer screen, trying unsuccessfully to hide her irritation at the interruption. ‘Roomies, housemates. We should take a road trip too, complete the set.’

Bed mates would really make it a full hand but he wasn’t going to suggest that. Totally inappropriate. But, despite himself, his eyes wandered over her face, skimming over the smattering of freckles high on her cheeks, the wide mouth, the pointed little chin. She kissed like she spoke—with passion and purpose—but there was none of the coolness and poise. No, there was heat simmering away behind that cool façade.

Heat he was better off pretending he knew nothing about.

‘I’ll let you have a lift in the company car. Will that do?’ She looked unamused. ‘Did you decide on office furniture? There’s a temporary desk for you there.’ She nodded over towards the wall where a second desk had already been set up, a monitor and phone installed on its gleaming surface.

‘I’ll be here a week or two at the most according to Building Services and then you’re free of me.’

‘Hardly,’ she muttered so low he could barely make out her words then spoke out in her usual crisp tones. ‘Are you available to talk now?’

‘
Certainement
, if you need me to be.’ He didn’t mean to let his voice drop or to drawl the words out quite so suggestively but the colour rising swiftly in her cheeks showed their effect all too clearly. ‘It would be good to start again, properly,’ he clarified.

‘Good.’ Polly waited until he had taken his seat at his new desk. It wasn’t quite as good a position as hers, which faced the incredible windows. When Gabe had sat there absorbed in his work he would look absently up every so often, only to be struck anew by the light, the simple artistry of the stylised floral design.

Now his view was the bookshelves that lined the opposite wall—and Polly, her desk directly in his eyeline. She swivelled her chair towards him, a notepad and pen poised in her hand, her legs crossed.

The only way this was going to work was if he behaved himself in thought and deed. But he was a mere man after all and better souls than him would find it hard to stop their gaze skimming over the long willowy figure and the neatly crossed legs. Incredibly long, ridiculously shapely legs. Of course they were.

‘You’ve got a pretty impressive CV,’ she said finally. ‘Why Rafferty’s?’

‘That means a lot coming from you,’ he said honestly. ‘Oh, come on,’ as her brows rose in surprise. ‘Polly Rafferty, you set the standard, you must know that. I came here to work with you.’

‘With me?’

‘Don’t misunderstand me, there’s a lot you can learn from me as well. In some ways Rafferty’s is stuck in the Dark Ages, especially digitally. But, you have done some great things here over the last few years. I have no problem admitting there are still things I need to learn if I am going to be a CEO by the time I’m thirty...’

‘Here?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you let me?’

‘You’d have to kill me first.’ She shook her head, her colour high.

‘That’s what I thought. No, maybe a start-up, or even my own business. I’ll see nearer the time.’

‘You’re ambitious. It took me until I was thirty-one to make it.’ Her eyes met his coolly, the blue of her eyes dark.

‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘A little competition keeps me focused.’ He shrugged. ‘Rafferty’s is possibly the most famous store in Europe if not the world. It’s the missing piece in my experience—and I have a lot to offer you as well. It’s a win-win situation.’

She leant back. ‘Prove it. What would you change?’

He grinned. ‘Are you ready for it? You only just got back.’

The corners of her mouth turned up, the smallest of smiles. ‘Don’t pull your punches. I can take it.’

‘Okay then.’ He jumped out of the chair and began to pace up and down the room. It was always easier to think on his feet; those months of being confined to bed had left him with a horror of inaction.

‘Your social media lacks identity and your online advertising is practically non-existent—it’s untargeted and unplanned, effectively just a redesign of your print advertising. I suggest you employ a digital marketing consultant to train your existing staff. Emily is very capable. She just needs guidance and some confidence.’

He looked across for a reaction but she was busy scribbling notes. Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘This is part of the problem. You’re what? Writing longhand?’

‘I think better with paper and pen. I’ll type them up later.’ Her voice was defensive.

‘
Non
, the whole company needs to think digitally. The sales force need tablets so they can check sizes and styles at the touch of a button, mix and match styles.’

‘We have a personal touch here. We don’t need to rely on tablets...’

‘You need both,’ he said flatly. ‘But what you really need is a new website.’

There was a long moment of incredulous silence. ‘But it’s only three years old. Do you
know
how much we spent on it?’

Polly was no longer leaning back. She was ramrod-straight, her eyes sparkling, more in anger than excitement, Gabe thought. ‘Too much and it’s obsolete. Come on, Polly.’ His words tumbled over each other, his accent thickened in his effort to convince her.

‘Do you want a website that’s fine and gets the job done or do you want one that’s a window into the very soul of Rafferty’s? You have no other stores anywhere—this is it. Your Internet business
is
your worldwide business and that’s where the expansion lies.’

‘What do you have in mind?’

This was what made him tick, made his blood pump, the adrenaline flow—planning, innovating, creating. It was better than finishing a marathon, hell, sometimes it was better than sex. ‘A site that is visually stunning, one that creates the feel and the look of the store as much as possible. Each department would be organised by gallery, exactly as you are laid out here so that customers get to experience the look, the feel of Rafferty’s—but virtually. Online assistants would be available twenty-four hours to chat and advise and, most importantly, the chance to personalise the experience. Why should people buy from Rafferty’s online when there are hundreds, thousands of alternatives?’

She didn’t answer, probably couldn’t.

‘If we make it better than all the rest then Rafferty’s is the store that customers will choose. They can upload their measurements, their photos and have virtual fittings—that way, they can order with certainty, knowing that the clothes will fit and suit them. Cut down on returns and make the whole shopping experience fun and interactive.’

‘How much?’

‘It won’t be cheap,’ he admitted. ‘Not to build, maintain or staff. But it will be spectacular.’

She didn’t speak for a minute or so, staring straight ahead at the window before nodding decisively. ‘There’s a board meeting next week. Can you have a researched and costed paper ready for then?’

Researched
and
costed?
‘Oui.’
If he had to work all day and night. ‘So, what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘There must be something you want to do, something to stamp your identity firmly on the store.’

‘I have been running the company for the last year,’ she reminded him, her voice a little frosty.

‘But now it’s official...’ If she wasn’t itching to make some changes he had severely underestimated her.

She didn’t answer for a moment, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the windows. ‘We have never expanded,’ she said after a while. ‘We always wanted to keep Rafferty’s as a destination store, somewhere people could aspire to visit. And it works, we’re on so many tourist tick lists; they buy teddies or tea in branded jars, eat in the tea room and take their Rafferty’s bag home. And with the Internet there isn’t any real need for bricks-and-mortar shops elsewhere.’

‘But?’

‘But we’ve become a little staid,’ Polly said. She rolled her shoulders as she spoke, stretching out her neck. Gabe tried not to stare, not to notice how graceful her movements were, as she turned her attention to her hair, unpinning it and letting the dark blonde tendrils fall free.

Polly sighed, running her fingers through her hair before beginning to twist it back into a looser, lower knot. It felt almost voyeuristic standing there watching her fingers busy themselves in the tangle of tresses.

‘We were one of the first stores in London to stock bikinis. Can you imagine—amidst the post-war austerity, the rationing and a London still two decades and a generation from swinging...my great-grandfather brought several bikinis over from Paris. There were letters of outrage to
The Times
.

‘We were the first to unveil the latest trends, to sell miniskirts. We were
always
cutting edge and now we’re part of a tour that includes Buckingham Palace and Madame Tussauds.’ The contempt was clear in her voice. ‘We’re doing well financially, really well, but we’re no longer cutting edge. We’re safe, steady, middle-aged.’ Polly wrinkled her nose as she spoke.

It was true; Rafferty’s was a byword for elegance, taste and design but not for innovation, not any more. Even Gabe’s own digital vision could only sell the existing ranges. But it was fabulously profitable with a brand recognition that was through the roof; wasn’t that enough? ‘Can a store this size actually be cutting edge any more? Surely that’s the Internet’s role...’

‘I disagree.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘We have the space, the knowledge, the passion and the history. The problem is, it takes a lot for us to take on a new designer or a new range, to hand over valuable floor space to somebody little known and unproven—and if they have already established themselves then we’re just following, not innovating.’

‘So, what do you plan to do about it?’ This was more like it. Her eyes were focused again, sharp.

‘Pop-ups.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Pop-ups. Bright, fun and relatively low cost. We can create a pop-up area in store for new designers whether it’s clothes, jewellery, shoes—we’ll champion new talent right here at Rafferty’s. Sponsor a graduate show during London fashion week in the main gallery.’

That made a lot of sense.

‘But I don’t just want to draw people here. I want to go out and find them—it could be a great opportunity to take Rafferty’s out of the city as well. Where do we have the biggest footfall?’

It was a good thing he’d pulled those eighteen-hour days; he could answer with utter confidence. ‘The food hall.’

‘Exactly! The British are finally understanding food—no, don’t pull a superior gourmet French face at me. They are and you know it. There are hundreds of food festivals throughout the country and I want us to start having a presence at the very best of them. And not just food festivals. I want us at Glyndebourne, Henley, the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Anywhere there’s a buzz I want Rafferty’s. Exclusive invitation-only previews to create excitement, with takeaway afternoon teas and Rafferty’s hampers—filled with a selection of our bestselling products as souvenirs.’

Gabe rubbed his chin. ‘Will it make a profit?’

‘Yes, but not a massive one,’ she conceded. ‘But it
will
revitalise us, introduce us to the younger market who may think we’re too staid for them. Make us more current and more exciting. And that market will be your domestic digital users.’

Gabe could feel it, the roar of adrenaline, the tightening in his gut that meant something new, something exhilarating was in the air. ‘It would create a great buzz on social media.’

She nodded, her whole face lit up. ‘It all works together, doesn’t it? I am presenting at the board meeting too. It’s less investment up front than you will need—but this is something untried and untested and the current board are a little conservative. You support me and, once I’ve checked your finances and conclusions, I’ll support your digital paper. We’ll have a lot more impact if we’re united. Deal?’ She held out her hand.