Tilly Bagshawe 3-book Bundle: Scandalous, Fame, Friends and Rivals. Tilly Bagshawe
Jackson smiled. Suddenly Sasha felt like Little Red Riding Hood. If he could he’d leap over here and eat me. ‘I have business here. A new hotel. Right opposite La Sagrada Família.’
‘You’ll never get permissions,’ said Sasha. He’s cut his hair! I don’t believe it. That’s like Samson cutting his hair. Or Steven Tyler from Aerosmith.
‘Already got ‘em.’
‘Land’ll be overpriced.’ It suits him though. I wonder if Lottie made him do it?
‘It’s a luxury hotel.’
‘Location’s far too tacky for a high-end hotel. La Sagrada’s the number-one attraction in the city. Fat kids in backpacks hanging around outside day and night, dropping chewing gum and crisp packets. It’s like building a Ritz Carlton in Trafalgar Square.’
‘Thanks for the advice,’ said Jackson smoothly. ‘It’s been a while, Sasha.’
Sasha glared at him. ‘Not long enough.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you. I was fine. Goodnight, Jackson.’ Turning on her heel, Sasha walked back into her suite, slamming the balcony doors behind her.
Arsehole. Luxury hotel, my arse. If he’s here on Wrexall business, I’m Mahatma Gandhi. He’s up to something.
She ordered room service and tried to settle down to the mountainous pile of work she had to get through before tomorrow. But knowing Jackson was in the suite next door made it impossible to concentrate. He looked so damn smug. What does he have to look smug about? At one point she was sure she heard his shower turn on. As hard as she tried, it was impossible not to picture him naked, lathering shampoo onto his newly short, preppy haircut. He looked different to how she remembered him. The suit, the hair, the manner. He’s less of a boy and more of a man. Sasha wondered whether that was Lottie’s influence, and felt a pang of something painful. She hoped that it was her missing Lottie’s friendship, but feared it might be something much more ugly: jealousy. Not that she was jealous of Lottie having Jackson. I wouldn’t want Jackson Dupree if he were the last man on the face of the earth. It can’t be that. Maybe I’m jealous of other people having love in their life. Of other people being happy.
On an impulse, she called Raj’s room, but there was no answer. Disappointed, and irritated with herself, she put the work aside, popped a sleeping pill and defiantly turned out the lights. It was only 8.30 p.m., but she had a big day tomorrow. Barcelona was her city, this was her off site, her conference, her time to shine. Jackson could try his childish mind games until he was blue in the face. But he wouldn’t ruin Barcelona for her. She wouldn’t let him.
Raj Patel sat at an outdoor table at a quiet coffee shop on Barcelona beach, wondering if he needed to get his ears syringed.
‘I’m sorry, Jackson. I think I must have misheard you. Did you just say fifteen million dollars? Fifteen as in one-five? Million as in million?’ Raj’s clipped British accent cut through the early-morning air like a scimitar.
Jackson sipped his espresso. ‘It’s a three-year package.’
‘Guaranteed?’
‘Of course. Guaranteed. Remember, you’d be running retail for us, lock stock and barrel. Given where we are today, and where I know we could be with you at the helm, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t out earn those numbers.’
Fifteen million dollars. Fifteen million, guaranteed. I could fuck up as much as I like, make every wrong decision in the book, and I’d still get paid. Raj had always thought of himself as a risk taker. No, to hell with that, he was a risk taker. He’d taken a huge chance, tying his star to Sasha’s and jumping to Ceres on nothing more than a wing and a prayer. That risk had paid off, in spades. Not only had it catapulted his career into the big leagues, but it had been a wild exhilarating ride, and Raj had loved every minute of it, the deals, the press attention, the camaraderie. Sasha Miller was a machine when it came to work – she never stopped – but somehow she still managed to make the atmosphere at Ceres fun. They were a young company, and a crazily young management team. No one missed the stuffiness at Wrexall, nor the bullying from the ageing, greedy board. Least of all Raj. There was more to life than money.
On the other hand …
‘You’re getting married, aren’t you?’ Jackson leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs languidly like the king that he was.
‘How’d you know that?’
‘A little bird. How does your fiancée feel about all the brouhaha in the papers about you and Sasha?’
Raj stiffened. ‘She couldn’t care less. She knows it’s all rubbish.’
‘Really?’ Jackson raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, really. We’re colleagues, that’s all.’
For some reason, Jackson felt relieved. That’ll make it easier to land Raj, he told himself. If they really were lovers, no amount of money would shift him.
‘Talk to your fiancée about the offer,’ said Jackson. ‘See what she thinks you should do.’
Raj laughed. ‘Oh, I get it. “ Honey, should I accept a cheque for fifteen million dollars no questions asked, or keep working on commission for a beautiful woman that half of America thinks I’m boning? ” That’s what you want me to ask her, right?’
Jackson laughed back. He genuinely liked Raj. Talking to him this morning, he realized how much he missed having him at Wrexall. With Sasha and Lottie both gone too, all the excitement had been sucked out of the place. ‘Something like that,’ he admitted. ‘It’s the truth isn’t it? They tell me all the best marriages are based on trust.’
Raj’s face fell. ‘I’m tempted. Of course I am. But what about Sasha? She trusts me.’
Jackson put down his coffee and leaned across the table, like a chess grand master moving in for checkmate. ‘Sasha is a businesswoman. At least, that’s what she told me when she ripped the fucking guts out of my company, the company that gave her a start, the company that made her.’ Raj was silent. Jackson had a right to be angry, but even so, seeing his rage in action was frightening. It was like a living thing, a being in its own right, hovering in the air between them like some malevolent moth. ‘You’re a young guy, Raj.’
‘Young-ish. I’m thirty-three.’
‘You’re about to start a family and you have your own life to think about, your own career. Ceres has had an amazing start. You were a big part of that. But it will always be Sasha Miller’s baby, and you know it. I’m offering you a chance to be master of your own destiny, at a firm with a century-old brand behind it. All the autonomy, all the financial upside and none of the risk. Sasha, of all people, understands what it is to be made an offer you can’t refuse. This is it, my friend. This is it.’
He was right. Of course he was right. When Raj left Wrexall he was on nine hundred grand a year. That was less than fourteen months ago. He stared into the dregs of his coffee cup. ‘I just don’t know how I’m going to tell Sasha …’
‘You aren’t,’ said Jackson firmly. ‘I can have the contracts with you in an hour, but they’re contingent on complete confidentiality. You say nothing. I’ll handle Sasha.’
Back at the Majestic, Sasha was having a thoroughly enjoyable day with the Ceres staff, going over the past year’s highlights and brainstorming their plans for the future. Raj had mysteriously disappeared, going for a run before breakfast and conspicuously failing to return. But Sasha was on too much of a high to care. Besides, Raj had earned the break. A large portion of her speech to the conference tomorrow would be dedicated to thanking him personally for his incredible contribution to Ceres’s early success. Without Raj there she was free to ask the rest of the team for suggestions, little jokes and