Mistletoe Seductions: A Mistletoe Proposal / Midnight Under the Mistletoe / Wedding Date with Mr Wrong. Nicola Marsh

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       CHAPTER SEVEN

      PIPPA had spoken the truth about the coming evening. A client was giving a lavish reception to celebrate acquiring sole rights to a piece of valuable computer software and had offered several invitations to Farley & Son, whose work had been crucial in securing the contract in a bidding war. A little group of them were going, including David and herself.

      ‘Dress up to the nines,’ he told her. ‘Knock their eyes out. It’s good for business.’

      She laughed but did as he wished, donning a shimmering white dress that combined beauty with elegance. The reception was held at London’s most costly hotel. They arrived in a fleet of expensive cars and were shown upstairs to the Grand Salon where their hosts were waiting to greet them effusively.

      One of the younger wives, friendly with Pippa and new to this kind of function, was in transports. ‘Everybody who’s anybody in finance is here tonight,’ she said. ‘You probably know most of them.’

      Pippa did indeed recognise many faces and began working the room, champagne in hand, charm on display, as was expected of her. As her friend had said, the cream of London’s financial establishment was gathered there, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when her eyes fell on Roscoe Havering. Yet it was.

      ‘Good evening, Miss Jenson.’

      ‘Good evening, Mr Havering.’

      ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here,’ he said, unconsciously echoing her own thought. ‘It’s the sort of gathering in which you shine.’

      ‘Strictly business,’ she said. ‘I can help to attract new clients here, and that’s what David expects me to do, so, if you’ll excuse me, I must get to work.’

      ‘Wait.’ His hand on her arm detained her. ‘Are you angry with me?’

      ‘Certainly not.’

      ‘Then why are you so determined to get away from me?’

      ‘Because, as I’ve tried to explain, for me this is a business meeting.’

      ‘Tell me the real reason. That’s not just efficiency I see in your eyes. It’s coldness and hostility. How have I offended you now?’

      ‘You haven’t.’

      ‘Little liar. Tell me the truth.’

      ‘You haven’t offended me, but I can’t pretend that you’re my favourite person.’

      ‘Because of Charlie?’

      ‘No, because of…lots of things.’

      ‘Name one.’

      ‘Stop interrogating me. I’m not in the dock.’

      ‘No, your victim is usually in the dock with you pressing home the questions. So, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?’

      ‘How dare you!’

      ‘Name something I’ve done to offend you—a new offence, not one you’ve told me about before.’

      She ground her teeth, wondering how she could ever have sympathised with him.

      ‘All right,’ she said at last. ‘Franton.’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘You’ve forgotten him already, haven’t you? That poor man who burst into your office this morning.’

      ‘That “poor man”—’

      ‘Yes, yes, I know. Insider trading is wrong, but he’s not the only one who’s sailed a bit close to the wind, is he? I know someone else whose activities threaten your firm’s good name, but he doesn’t get chucked out. He gets protected. You hire a lawyer to keep him on the straight and narrow.’

      ‘He’s my brother—’

      ‘And Franton is a man with a wife and children. Maybe he doesn’t deserve a position of trust any more, but you threw him onto the scrap heap without a second thought.’

      Pippa waited for Roscoe to speak but he was staring as though he’d just seen her for the first time.

      ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’m a soppy, sentimental woman who doesn’t understand harsh reality and sticks her nose into what doesn’t concern her. There, now, I’ve saved you the trouble of saying it.’

      ‘Soppy and sentimental is the last thing I’d ever call you,’ Roscoe said. He seemed to be talking in a daze.

      ‘Well, anyway…since you’re employing me I suppose I had no right to fly at you like that.’

      His voice was unexpectedly gentle. ‘You can say anything you like to me.’

      ‘No, really—it’s none of my business.’ Suddenly she was desperate to get away from him.

      ‘I wish I could explain to you what the pressures are—I think I could make you understand, and I’d like to feel that you did.’

      ‘As you say, I don’t know what it’s like for you.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘I don’t suppose I could imagine it.’

      ‘Pippa—’

      ‘Don’t let me keep you. We both need to drum up new business.’

      She gave him a brilliant smile and moved firmly away. She didn’t even look back, but plunged into networking—smiling, laughing, making appointments, promising phone calls. It was an efficient evening and by the end of it she’d made a number of good contacts.

      At last she found herself on the edge of a little group surrounding the managing director of the firm celebrating its triumph. He was growing expansive, making jokes.

      Roscoe, СКАЧАТЬ