In Petrakis's Power (5 page)

‘You don’t need to make it up to me. We’re family, remember? All I want is for you to be well and happy. Now, remind me what time we have to be at this Petrakis’s office?’

‘Ten forty-five.’

‘Okay. After I shower and dress I’ll phone a cab to pick us up. Where is the office we’re going to?’

‘Westminster.’

‘Not far away, then. Well, you’d better go and get ready, too. Do you need anything ironed?’

Getting to his feet and digging his hands deep into the capacious pockets of his dressing gown, her father seemed completely nonplussed by the question.

Taking in a consciously deep breath to calm her disquiet, Natalie asked, ‘Do you want me to come with you and check?’

‘No, darling, it’s fine. I’m wearing my best Savile Row suit, and my one ironed shirt has been hanging in the wardrobe ready ever since I got the call that the meeting was today.’

‘Good.’ Giving him an approving smile, Natalie stole a brief glance at the fashionably utilitarian stainless-steel clock on the wall. ‘We’d better get our skates on, then. We don’t want to be late.’

‘For the execution, you mean?’ His grimace, clearly tinged with bitterness and regret, had never looked more pained. Yet the comment also contained a hint of ironic humour.

‘I know it must be hard for you to contemplate letting go of the business that you put your heart and soul into to building,’ she sympathised, ‘but maybe this could be an exciting new start for you. An opportunity to put your energies into something else … something a little less taxing that you could manage more easily. Even the direst situations can have a silver lining.’

‘And how am I going to start another business if I have barely a penny to my name?’

‘Is running a business the only way you can earn a living?’

‘That’s all I know how to do.’ Exhaling a leaden sigh, her father drove his fingers exasperatedly through his already mussed silver hair.

Struggling with her personal sense of frustration at not being able to find an instant solution that would cheer him and give him some hope, Natalie dropped her hands to hips clad in the pyjama bottoms and T-shirt
she’d borrowed from him to wear to bed and thought hard.

‘What if we ask this Petrakis if he could extend some humanitarian understanding and pay you a reasonable sum for the business? After all, if you say he has a reputation for being able to turn dirt into diamonds then surely he must know that he’s bound to make another fortune from your hotel chain? What would it hurt for him to pay you a fairer price?’

‘Sweetheart … I don’t mean this unkindly, but you know very little about men like Petrakis. How do you think he acquired his considerable fortune? It wasn’t from taking a humanitarian approach to making money! Whatever you say to him, however impassioned or eloquent your argument, it would be like water off a duck’s back.’

Natalie’s grey eyes flashed angrily. ‘And that’s how the business world measures success these days, is it? Someone is only thought of as successful if he’s single-mindedly ruthless in his dealings and doesn’t give a fig about the psychological damage he might cause to anyone—not even a fellow entrepreneur who’s down on his luck—just as long as he can get what he wants?’

Breathing hard, she knew how much she already despised the Greek billionaire even though she hadn’t even set eyes on him yet. But there was also something else on her mind. If this meeting with Petrakis was too devastating for her dad—and she’d certainly be able to tell if it was—then she couldn’t abandon him later on tonight to go and have dinner with the enigmatic Ludo. Even though she’d barely been able to cease thinking
about the man since meeting him on the train yesterday …

‘Apparently that is the case. But don’t distress yourself by being angry on my behalf, love. I know I asked you to come with me for moral support, but this isn’t your battle. It’s mine. Now, I think we’d better go and get ourselves ready.’

Giving a resigned shrug, her father turned on his heel. With a heavy tread he made his way down the varnished wood-panelled hall to his bedroom, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

‘Ludovic … how are you? Traffic’s bloody awful out there today. Everything’s moving at a snail’s pace.’

Ludo had been staring out of the window of his plush Westminster office, hardly registering anything on the road outside because his mind was fixed on one thought and one thought only. Tonight he was meeting the exquisite Natalie for dinner. He closed his eyes. For just a few short seconds he could imagine himself becoming entranced by the still, crystal-clear lake of her gaze all over again, and could conjure up the alluring scent of her perfume as easily as if she were standing right next to him. It was impossible to recall the last time he’d had this sense of excited anticipation fluttering in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of seeing a woman again … if it had
ever
happened at all. So, when the booming voice of his public-school-educated lawyer Stephen Godrich unexpectedly rang out behind him he was so immersed in his daydream that he almost jumped out of his skin.

With a wry smile he pivoted, immediately steering
his mind back into work mode. There would be time for more fantasies about the lovely Natalie later, after they’d met for dinner, Ludo was sure.

Automatically stepping forward to shake the other man’s hand, he privately noted that the buttons on the bespoke suit jacket he wore had about as much hope of meeting over his ever-expanding girth as Ludo had of winning the Men’s Final at Wimbledon … An impossibility, of course, seeing as polo was his sport of choice, and not tennis.

‘Hello, Stephen. You’re looking well … in fact so well I fear I must be paying you too much,’ he joked.

The other man’s pebble-sized blue eyes, almost consumed by the generous flesh that surrounded them, flickered with momentary alarm. Quickly recovering, he drew out a large checked handkerchief from his trouser pocket and proceeded to mop the perspiration that glazed his brow.

‘Being an inveterate lover of fine dining definitely has its price, my friend,’ he remarked, smiling. ‘I know I should be more self-disciplined, but we all have our little peccadillos, don’t we? Anyway … do you mind if I ask if your client has arrived yet?’

Glancing down at the platinum Rolex that encircled his tanned wrist, Ludo frowned. ‘I’m afraid not. It looks like he may well be late. While we’re waiting for him I’ll get Jane to make us some coffee.’

‘Splendid idea. A few choice biscuits wouldn’t go amiss either, if you have some,’ the lawyer added hopefully.

Already at the door on his way out to Reception,
Ludo raised a hand in acknowledgement, thinking that if the man would only cut down on his sugar intake his handmade suits might fit him a whole lot better.

Ludo and his trusted representative Amelia Redmond—who had put the bid in for the once prestigious hotel chain on his behalf—sat at the polished table in the boardroom along with Stephen Godrich and Ludo’s affable and highly professional assistant Nick. The younger man was re-reading some documentation in front of him and his olive-skinned brow was furrowed in concentration. Why it should suddenly occur to him at that precise moment that Nick’s family came from Crete, he didn’t know. Except that he’d been thinking about Natalie again, and he recalled her telling him that her mother had grown up there.

Suddenly impatient to have this meeting over and done with—even though the purchase of this particular hospitality business was a genuine coup—he had a strong urge to take some time out from work to go for a swim at his private health club. Not for the first time he recalled the surprising question Natalie had posed to him on the train. ‘Do you have to be so busy
all
of the time?’ she’d asked.

Ludo frowned. His family had raised him with a bulldog work ethic second to none, and he’d more than reaped the rewards of his tenacity and hard work. Yet there was still a perverse sense of not being deserving enough running through his veins that didn’t always allow him to enjoy those rewards. Somewhere along the line he’d forgotten that a body needed rest and relaxation from time to time to recharge its batteries. Lord
knew he could easily afford to take a year off or more if he wanted to. But to do what? And, more to the point, with
whom
?

Straightening the cuffs of his pristine cobalt shirt, he glanced up, intuiting the entrance of his diminutive middle-aged secretary Jane a moment before she appeared in the doorway.

‘Mr Carr is here, along with his daughter and his solicitor Mr Nichols,’ she announced gravely, as was her habit. ‘Shall I show them in?’

‘Please do. Have you asked them what refreshments they’d like?’

‘I have.’

At the back of his mind Ludo was wondering why Bill Carr had brought his daughter along to the meeting. Neither Nick nor the ultra-efficient Amelia Redmond had informed him that she had any shares in the business, and the last thing he wanted to deal with today was some unforeseen complication that affected the deal. The look on Nick’s face told him that he was equally puzzled by the daughter’s attendance. As Jane held the door wide, so that the trio in reception could enter, Ludo was the first to rise to his feet to greet them.

When he registered that the pretty brunette who came in with the two men was Natalie he honestly thought his heart was going to jump clear out of his chest.

He stared. Natalie was the
daughter
of the hotel chain’s owner, Bill Carr? Was fate playing some kind of outlandish joke on him? The wide-eyed liquid-silver glance that mirrored his own profound sense of shock instantly had him hypnotised, and he couldn’t help but
murmur her name beneath his breath. It was impossible to deny the instantaneous jolt of almost violent attraction that zigzagged through him at seeing her again.

The faded jeans that hugged her long slim legs and the cerise satin tunic she wore were in direct contrast to everyone else’s ultra formal attire. Yet he couldn’t help thinking that the ensemble was utterly charming and refreshing. But, as much as he was secretly delighted to see her, Ludo knew potentially that this was one of the worst situations he could have wished for. Already he could sense that she was on her guard, but not by so much as a flicker of an eyelid did she indicate that she’d met him before. Clearly it was going to be hard for her to trust him after realising that
he
was the man about to buy her father’s business—and not at the best price either. She must know he was selling it at a substantial loss to Ludo.

Steering his glance deliberately over to the two men, in a bid to buy more time and think what to do, he asked, ‘Which one of you is Bill Carr?’

He couldn’t help his tone sounding on edge. In truth, Natalie’s unexpected appearance, plus the astonishing fact that her father should turn out to be the businessman whose hotel chain he was purchasing, had seriously shaken him. As Ludo endeavoured to win back his equilibrium, the rangy, almost gaunt-looking man in a traditional grey pinstriped suit stepped forward to shake his hand.

‘I am. This is my solicitor, Edward Nichols, and my daughter Natalie.’

Sadly, she
didn’t
step forward to shake Ludo’s hand.
Instead, her beautiful grey eyes flashed a warning, as if to tell him that under the circumstances it would be unwise to acknowledge her personally. At that moment, he couldn’t help but agree.

‘I presume you must be Mr Petrakis?’ Bill Carr finished.

‘That’s right,’ Ludo responded, adding quickly, ‘Why don’t we all sit down? I understand that my secretary is seeing to some refreshments, but in the meantime allow me to introduce you to my colleagues.’

The introductions over, he reached for the glass of water on the leather blotter in front of him and took a cooling sip. Somehow he had to endeavour to compose himself and not let anyone see that the sight of Natalie had almost robbed him of the power of speech—never mind his ability to present himself with his usually inimitable self-assurance. After Jane had brought coffee and biscuits, then shut the door behind her, Ludo seized the opportunity to hand over the formalities of the deal to Amelia and Nick. While they outlined the offer he had proposed, Bill Carr and his solicitor listened intently, every so often asking questions and jotting down notes.

Due to the uncharacteristic guilt that assailed him because he was buying her father’s business, the back of Ludo’s neck prickled uncomfortably every time he inadvertently caught Natalie’s eye.

He tried hard to recall everything she’d told him about the man when they’d spoken on the train yesterday.
‘He can be rather unpredictable and not always easy to understand,’
she’d confided. Ludo wondered if
that had anything to do with what he chose to spend his money on. His assistant Nick had uncovered a story in the business community about the man having a reputation for being reckless with his money. The story went that he regularly indulged in various costly habits … not all of them entirely wholesome. No doubt that was why he found himself in the painful position he was in now, having to sell his business for less than half its value to meet the debt those expensive habits had incurred …

Ludo’s two assistants brought their outlining of the deal to a concise and professional conclusion. Then his solicitor confirmed the conditions of the sum being offered, to make sure that Bill Carr was fully aware of every aspect of the deal. All that remained after that was for the deal to be signed and witnessed and the money transferred to his bank account.

As Ludo’s solicitor Stephen Godrich pushed the necessary document across the table for the man’s signature, Natalie stopped them all in their tracks with a stunning question. ‘Mr Petrakis … do you think that the amount you’re offering my father for his business is entirely fair?’

Mr Petrakis?
Ludo almost smiled at her deliberate formality. But immediately after his initial amused reaction he registered the less than flattering implication behind the soft-voiced enquiry.

‘Fair?’ He frowned, turning the full force of his sapphire-blue gaze on her lightly flushed face.

‘Yes—fair. You must know that you’re getting what is one of the most innovative and successful hotel chains in the UK for practically peanuts! You’re a very wealthy
man, I hear. Surely you can afford to pay a less insulting amount to a man whose ingenuity and hard work created the business in the first place, so he might invest some of it in another entrepreneurial venture and make his living?’