No kicks. His local lore chat over breakfast gave me valuable time to register first impressions: secure, confident, forthright. Probably meticulous. I suspected Mr Petrenko didn’t like to lose at anything, but no evidence of an overblown ego.
He finished a second cup of tea. “Now that we’ve gotten to know each other a bit, shall we talk business? Do you know about me, my companies, what I do?”
“My husband knew your name immediately through your NBA affiliation. Of course I read the impressive information your assistant sent. Frankly, Mr Petrenko I still wonder why me? Why a beauty industry executive?”
He tented his fingertips. “I’ve a business that supplies custom oils, the industry’s raw materials for candles, air fresheners, all manner of personal products—shower gels, hair care, skin creams. A year ago I increased my shares in a cosmetic company to one hundred per cent to become the owner.”
“Would I know names of your brands?”
“Imperial’s the supplier. Barely a handful are privy to this. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Of course, there you are! When I was at Platinum Marsha Johnson used Imperial, most recently for Charade. I can’t say I had direct contact but they’re top quality. That includes meeting our production deadlines. If you’ve read my resume—”
“Yes, Wildly successful Charade launch. I’ve been strictly hands-off on both ventures but I’m to understand the oils do quite well, but the newer, relatively small business is losing money. I don’t like to lose money, Ms. Paige.”
“Would you share a few details?”
“I purchased the company for forty-five million American dollars. The Nudes, an organic skincare line, enhances a woman’s natural tones, the illusion she’s not wearing make-up or some such. The other’s a lifestyle fragrance, My Elixir. Our consumer works directly with a perfumer to customise her own fragrance through essential oils. It seemed an excellent match Imperial. We store the recipe, duplicating it in related body products, even home items such as candles. The division also has baseline products based on the top selling olfactory categories.”
“I know these brands.”
“Spot on. Your impression?”
“I found them last year at Fred Segal in Santa Monica. In fact I loved the customised concept but I stumbled on it, Mr Petrenko. I wondered who was working on it. Why such weak execution reaching the consumer? I’m knee deep in the business but I couldn’t recall press buzz. No over-dinner gossip, or word-of-mouth launch hype.” I looked at the wall map and back at my host. “To be honest, I forgot about it. I suspect a normal consumer would, too. A shame, a lost opportunity.”
“Your point’s well taken.”
“If I pitched this to you, I’d emphasise exploiting the concept of an astute woman’s exclusive scent. There’s huge potential.”
“Indeed? Then good news. I’m in the throes of evaluation.”
“Don’t give up. Your concept’s outside the box, head and shoulders above the industry junk we see every day. You’re onto something. E-commerce, as they call it, will only grow. eBay’s bought PayPal; Amazon dot com is making a profit at long last. The elements are key but how you market and sell this concept could easily triple sales in the next two years.”
“You have my attention. And the skincare line? The Nudes? Viable project as well?”
“Gosh yes! Anti-aging is a trending growth category, a consistent driver with massive development opportunity. You know our term Baby Boomers, of course? A huge number of women worldwide are pushing sixty, becoming grandmothers.” I raised my finger. “In no way do the identify with their grannies. No sensible-shoes. They’re after the Fountain of Youth.”
“Bloody hell, aren’t we all?” He smiled.
“That’s my point. You can repackage and expand this line in a dozen ways for the right people. Yield a large revenue base, even turn a profit. You’ll need investment to reformulate. Slick packaging. Maybe add scents that evoke the emotions from this island: botanical, fresh, windswept. Exploit active ingredients The Nudes woman would understand. Fewer LA or Riviera plumped lips and tight foreheads, more Cape Cod, Isle of Wight sea breeze. Anti-aging aspects will be key. Perhaps a famous dermatologist contributes to the process. This adds a medical message to the consumer. Buzz foresees this as a big trend over the next ten years. You’d be ahead of the curve.”
“A woman’s intuition.”
“A touch mixed with my years of tracking trends.”
“I like how your mind works. Fast, very fast. You’ve quite the résumé and achievements yet no formal education.”
“I don’t hide it. My dysfunctional family offered no emotional or financial support. I married my high school sports hero, Ethan Paige, determined to pitch for the major leagues.” I breezed through my professional climb. “I recognised my people skills early on selling magazine advertising. Next, I handed out fragrance blotter cards at area malls, and shadowed the amazing professionals around me.”
I leaned in. “Observation, mimicking, burning ambition, and a scrappy talent for survival puts me at your table. You’ve been calling me for weeks and inferred I have time on my hands.” I waited. “Clearly you know my history. Things did not end well at Ciao!Beauty for Carmine Isgro or the company he ruined.”
He tented his fingers again. “Imperial inadvertently supplied raw materials for his Calvin Klein knockoffs.”
“Obsession! Do you know Isgro?”
“Only in the most cursory way.”
“My connection was far from cursory. I’m fortunate to be rid of him. Bad vibes from Day One. I don’t like to lose; I always have a Plan B; I never give up. I’m relentless when it comes to getting what I want in life. But you’ll understand my need for a breather before I jump into anything new.”
He met my glance. “I’m surrounded by well-educated people, yet in too many cases Harvard or Oxford types lack social intelligence. Connecting to people, instincts, and negotiation cannot easily be taught.”
I thought of Brian Cox. “Street smarts. Intuition.”
“Spot on!” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve a meeting in an hour’s time. I’d like to regroup by two o’clock.” We stood. “If I may, Ms. Paige, Relax, get to know your surroundings. It’s brisk but we’ve a sunny day. Walk the grounds. Your comments on The Nudes and evoking emotion from your Cape Cod, my Priory Bay, struck a chord. Start at the car park. Stroll along the golf course. Let yourself be drawn to sites. Analyse the appeal.” “A suggestion I gladly accept.” I handed him my essentials. “I’ll be brief this afternoon. We’ve a corker of an evening and I didn’t fly you her to exhaust you. I’d like to think we might form an alliance and a plan of execution.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as I walk. Please call me Emma?”
“Then I must be Julian. Two o’clock. Again in the foyer.”
“I promise to hold onto the banister this time.”
He smiled and tapped the wainscoting. A panel opened and he disappeared, as if into thin air.
Chapter Fifteen
I wandered the property, even sat on the bench between Allies FDR and Churchill. I meandered to the golf course, trying to focus on ambiance and aromas. Everything smacked of fantasy. I’d been out of touch with reality for twenty-four hours.
Who charters a jet for one person and disappears through a disguised door? Why me in this mansion-hotel hugging the English Channel? I inhaled the salt air, sniffed blossoms as instructed, but kept thinking of this Russian émigré, all Oxford accent and impeccable manners, asking questions, answering few. The man had done his homework but then a power broker in his position would have gathered whatever information he needed about me.
