Page 43 of Audacity

‘So where do you do it? Have you been booking the hotels? Because I can take that over for you, obviously.’

‘My agency booked a hotel suite for my audition,’ I tell him, ‘but today and yesterday we’ve just done it in his office.’

He presses his fingertips to the bridge of his nose and exhales long and hard. ‘There is so much to unpack in that sentence that I have total overwhelm. Why is it so hot that he auditionedyou? Right, that’s going straight into the spank bank—with him auditioningme, obviously.’

‘Obviously.’ I shrug. ‘I think that one will work well for you.’

‘And you have an agency?’

‘I do. Seraph. They make sure everything’s above board. I wouldn’t do this on my own. They’re amazing.’

‘Seraph,’ he muses. ‘That’s an angel, right? I love that for you. Are there loads of these angels around?’

‘Seraphim, we call ourselves. And yes. Next time you meet a CEO with his attractive young EA, you can speculate as to the nature of their relationship.’

‘I will. I absolutely fucking will. And you’ve been shagging him in his office while we all sit around the corner, totally oblivious. Excuse me while I die of jealousy. But it’s now making a lot more sense as to why he asked me to get a remote control lock installed on the outer door last week.’

I laugh. ‘He used that this morning.’

‘I bet he did, the dirty bastard. Right, well we can do better than that for you, my dear. I assume you’d like to fuck the delicious Mr Sullivan in an actual bed from time to time? I can set that up for you. What’s your preference? Claridges? Here is nice, too. If you leave it to him, he’d probably book some budget horror.’

‘Let’s do Claridges. It’s closer and less of a circus.’

‘Agreed. Discretion will be your friend. Although you should know that money is already exchanging hands around the office over how soon you guys will fuck. Everyone’s watching you, just so you know.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I promise, ‘I’ve got this. I’m so discreet I could be fucking the king himself and no one would know.’

He chortles, delighted. ‘Stranger things have happened at Buckingham Palace, let me tell you. And I promise I’ll be discreet, too. You don’t help plan three royal weddings and nottake a vow of silence. But this is the most delicious secretever.Do you know what the best bit is? Everyone in the whole fucking place is positively jostling to put a ring on that man, and you just want his dick.’

‘Abso-fucking-lutely,’ I tell him. ‘Now, why don’t you give me the lay of the land? Aside from the fact that everyone’s already sticking metaphorical pins in me, tell me what else I need to know.’

‘I wouldn’t assume they’re metaphorical, darling. There are probably a few dolls in desk drawers doubling as pin cushions already. But let me see.’ He takes a thoughtful sip of his drink. ‘Generally, Gabriel is well liked. Adored, even. I wasn’t here during his old man’s reign, but I think he got pretty lazy towards the end. I mean, wouldn’t you, if you were that loaded? He was way more interested in the gee-gees than the estate, apparently.

‘But there’s some definite frustration among the ranks that we haven’t seen big changes yet. I think they all expected the Angel Gabriel to turn things around immediately, but you can’t turn the Titanic overnight, can you?’

‘Exactly,’ I murmur, making a mental note of that. For God’s sake, Gabe’s been a priest for a decade. It’s not like he’s come straight out of an MBA. They need to cut the guy some slack. ‘What would you say the biggest issues are in terms of what they want changed?’

‘Well, most of it goes over my head, but it seems there’s a view that they should either start managing other families’ assets or cut back the investment management team, which is a bit bloated. But the lack of a foundation seems to be the most egregious issue. It’s not like the Sullivans don’t give a shitload to charity—they really do—but it’s not a cohesive strategy, you know?’

‘Gabe mentioned yesterday that the foundation was a matter of urgency for him.’ This is excellent. I was integral to thecreation of a foundation for my first boss in the tech sector. It’s definitely an area where I can add value.

‘It is, but good luck putting a rocket under Eleanor Whitmore’s arse. She’s supposedly leading the whole thing but her approach to our “charitable projects” as she calls them, is verychampagne socialism, if you catch my drift. She still thinks it’s 1985 and she’s running the charity committee at her son’s prep school. But don’t let the pearls fool you. She’s got teeth, and she doesn’t like to be challenged.’

‘Roger that.’ I make another mental note. It doesn’t get more juicy than structuring a foundation. It’s any MBA’s wet dream. I’m not about to let some old fart decked out in the family pearls get in my way. ‘Is that woman Torty involved? She’s in charge of stakeholder relations, correct?’

He pretends to shudder. ‘Yes, and she’s smart, and definitely hungrier than Eleanor. But she’s a ghastly name-dropper. She’s allCadoganthis andGrosvenorthat. She’d love to think the estate is all about preserving gorgeous old buildings when really, the docklands is still a shithole. A lot of those communities are still seriously deprived. I think she needs to learn to read the fucking room. Oh, and she needs to find someone else to fixate on instead of drooling all over the lovely Gabriel. She’s been circling him like a posh shark for months.’

I sigh. I have faith in Gabriel and I want to help him achieve whatever vision he has for this great chunk of London that he owns. But without the right team, his job—ourjob—will be a lot more difficult.

‘What else?’ I push. ‘What about Old Jim?’

‘Old Jim is a ghastly old lech, and fuck knows how he’s not on the liver transplant list yet. He’s a functioning alcoholic. I wouldn’t know a P&L from a balance sheet, but apparently he’s excellent at what he does—when he’s sober. Greedy old fucker,though. I can’t imagine he’d be the biggest fan of increasing our charitable efforts.’

‘He will when I wow him with tax efficiency possibilities,’ I say with confidence. I allow myself a sip of crisp, cold champagne. Delicious. ‘George, you’re a star. Will you be my spy?’

‘Sure,’ he agrees easily. ‘I’ll be your eyes and ears on the floor while you’re busy getting fucked over the boss’s desk. Just… look after him, okay? He’s still new to this world. It’s a lot. He’s a good man, and that heart of his is like an open church door. Whether he knows it or not, he needs nasty little bitches like you and me to protect him from that lot… and from himself.’

CHAPTER 19

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