Despite faking it to interest Nikolas Christopoulos, consulting wasn’t customary for someone at my level. I could use it as my excuse to retreat If that became his offer. I returned to my suite with an exit strategy, ordered room service lunch and called Ethan. Even at eight a.m. New York time, his phone went to voicemail. A power nap and BBC World News cleared my head. At one fifty I descended the staircase in beige slacks and cashmere sweater, purposely reaching the foyer before Julian. “Sorry you missed it,” I quipped as he arrived. “This time I slid down the banister.”
His laugh boosted my confidence. Mystery Man escorted me through the public rooms to an archway cordoned off with braided roping. “My private quarters. We’ll talk in my office. First let me show you the building’s secret.”
Fantasyland continued. Back in the Island Room he tapped open the disguised panelling for the second time. Cooking aromas and the familiar clink and shuffle of kitchenware wafted along a passageway lined in built-in, glass-front cabinets. “Back in the day every estate included hallways and separate quarters for the help. God, forbid they used the same staircase.” He gestured to the left. “The kitchen’s through that door and this hall opens to the lobby.” We headed right. “When they brought the building up to commercial code, I had a flat carved out of the butler’s pantry and servants’ sitting rooms.”
In we went past similar cabinets over soapstone counters, sink and stove. Alistair Downs adjusted the flame under a teapot. “Lemon or cream, Mrs Paige?”
“Hello again! Lemon, Lemon would be fine.”
“An indispensable man of many talents,” Julian added as he guided me by the elbow into a foyer hung with framed artwork. Very good artwork. He nodded at another door. “The roped off main entrance from the public area we saw earlier.”
I paused in front of a gorgeously familiar oil. “This can’t be Turner’s Angel Standing in the Sun? I saw this in the Tate.”
(Thank you, Neil!)
“Indeed. You saw his final version in the permanent collection. This is a preliminary rendering.” He circled the air, inches from the canvas. “A more distinct wing behind the angel’s right shoulder. If you work for me, your expertise on good art will be accelerated. It’s an asset in my business.” He settled against worn throw pillows on his couch. I sat in the club chair. The cluttered desk, sweater on the chair, Financial Times stacked on the coffee table put me at ease. Alistair left the tea as I looked out at the bay and described impressions from my walk. I touched on finding the right niche for any target, marketing to older women, and the importance of quality production for enhancement of a fresh, natural look. “You confirm my expectations.”
“I’m intrigued on this end, Julian. Your hospitality and the way you’ve approached this interview says a lot about you.”
“Please elaborate.”
“You’ve shared business details. You’re refined, hardworking, proud of your achievements. Clearly used to winning, which speaks to ambition. Open to new ideas, critical in the change-on-a-whim beauty industry, by the way.” I looked at the sea. “You’ve told me this destination is key to the interview but we’re not in a perfume factory, or even a board room.”
He tented his fingers again. “Very perceptive. I own the entire compound. I don’t advertise it. It’s critical you understand my desire for privacy. No company carries my name. With the exception of the Dallas franchise, I’m as low profile as possible. I’m apt to use a trusted employee in my place. I expect confidentiality and loyalty. I sense you feel the same.”
“I do, though my expectations haven’t always been met.”
“A shame.”
“Priory Bay’s appeal is obvious, but why purchase?”
“Long story short, Cambridge Five was a spy ring during World War Two based in the university. At fifteen my Russian father was given a new identity and placed in the UK. He recruited several students whose critical information ultimately ending the war. He was apprehended by the Nazis in Berlin but saved by his fluent German. My Jewish mother lost her family to the camps. They met in a German café and during the Cold War became double agents. Reconnaissance for M Sixteen. They were murdered on a London street, presumably by a Russian agent.”
“I’m so sorry, but so impressed.”
“During The Blitz Priory Bay Hotel had been used as a safe house for children of UK government employees. M Sixteen placed my toddler sister Oksana and me with the caretakers. We were raised here. By the time they passed away it was in disrepair. I had the means to purchase and restore it. Oksana died two years go. Cancer. My family went through so much, it drives my success, keeps me strong. Keeps me keep going.”
“I understand.” Maybe James Bond really had materialised. “I’ve laid out what’s made me rich. Let’s get back to your success. Emma Paige has been recommended to address my floundering efforts. Do I cut my loss by liquidating Nudes? My Elixir? Both projects? My other businesses are well run and turning a profit. Is Mayfair Beauty, the cosmetic company purchase, worth keeping? I bought it as a way to test Imperial oil technology and expand that success under my control.”
“I don’t recognise Mayfair.”
“That’s the problem, they’re too far under the radar.”
“And haemorrhaging funds was not part of your plan.”
“Never! I’ve a managing director overseeing the operation but she hasn’t what it takes to execute the work. She’s to be sacked but now would be counterproductive. I’ve neither the time nor knowledge to apply directives. I’ve been told you do.” I hoped he was less ruthless than he sounded. “I’m to work with her until she’s sacked to pinpoint what’s fixable. Suggest a plan of action to turn around the company?”
“Yes. I’ve gone that route before with great results. Initially I’d place you inside specifically to report to me with intelligence and recommendations. Would this interest you?”
“Not if this director turns out to be a Carmine Isgro.”
“Isgro’s in a class by himself. My director Wilma Nash, will be cooperative.”
Ah, I knew of her and her reputation. A player, strong-willed and political but also known for good concepts and pitches that built enthusiasm. I did a one-eighty. “We’d need to outline terms but, yes, I’m interested.”
“A woman who jumps into negotiations! I suggest we draw up an agreement. You consult for me exclusively, One hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. If we see eye to eye, in six months’ time we negotiate a permanent position.”
“Fair enough.”
“Best you begin next week. I’ll explain to the New York office you’re to run alongside Ms. Nash. You’ll report to me on turning the business into a profitable endeavour.”
“And if I doubt that’s possible?”
“Honesty’s imperative. If it’s all to pot, you help me package it or, considering a six-month time constraint, help initiate the liquidation process.”
“Fair enough. I believe I can be an asset. Ideally, I’d like to connect with my husband first. I called Ethan at lunch but he’s not known to answer his phone. I’ll try again.”
“And if he doesn’t pick up?”
“I’ll give you my answer without his input.”
“Tell me about your high school hero as we finish tea.”
“Ethan’s winding down from a professional baseball pitching career. He’s athletic. Obsessed with sports, hates to travel, a real homebody even when home was a string of god-forsaken motels on the road. He’s generous, honest, great with kids. He’s working with struggling, disadvantaged high schoolers now.”
“You have none of your own?”
“We don’t.” I stayed on the surface of my private life.
