Page 190 of Guilty Pleasures

She pointed to the grey-haired man on her left.

‘Magnus Anderson, Milford’s company lawyer, is attending on my instructions. Magnus?’

The solicitor looked up and nodded deferentially to Roger.

‘Roger is quite correct, the Articles of the company clearly state that a convicted criminal cannot be a director of the company.’

There was a murmur around the table as people whispered to their neighbours.

‘But,’ Magnus held up his hand, ‘the key word is convicted. At this point, Emma hasn’t even been charged.’

‘But she has been arrested over some very serious allegations,’ insisted Roger. ‘The story is all over the media and it paints the company in a very bad light.’ He looked around the table, appealing for support. ‘Isn’t the point of the board to make decisions based on what is best for the business?’

Emma looked at Roger, feeling her flesh crawl, wondering if it had been him driving the car, him who had poured the petrol through the letterbox? Whether he’d tried to kill her or not, there was something very dark and deceitful about him. But she just couldn’t argue with what he had just said. What would her colleagues at Price Donahue, what would she, recommend to a tarnished CEO? At best, she would tell them to lie low and ride out the storm. Ideally, she would recommend that they quietly step aside and wait for the scandal to pass. She smoothed down her skirt nervously and glanced at Ruan who smiled encouragingly.

‘Very well. In the best interest of Milford, I will take a two-week leave of absence from the company. By then the police should have further results of forensic tests and I’m confident I will be fully cleared. In the meantime, Ruan will be acting CEO.’

Everyone turned to look at Roger anxiously.

‘A strong decision, Emma, best for everyone all round,’ he said, with an oily smile. ‘I’m sure everyone will join me in giving Ruan our full support at this difficult time.’

Suddenly everyone started talking at once, asking Emma questions, congratulating Ruan, calling for more information from Magnus.

Roger held up a hand and the hubbub died down.

‘Actually, there is something else I wish to discuss since all the shareholders are here,’ he said, pausing for a moment. ‘I would like to sell my shareholding in Milford.’

Every face in the room turned to him, every mouth open in surprise.

‘In accordance with our shareholders’ agreement, I am giving you twenty-eight days notice to buy them,’ continued Roger. ‘Then I will be looking for other buyers on the open market.’

The uproar began again and Roger looked over at Emma triumphantly. He knew that as a suspect in an arson and attempted murder case, Emma would be unable to raise such a large amount of money and with her out of play, a sale of his shares to an outsider would bring a windfall of millions.

‘Very well,’ said Emma quietly, cursing herself for being outmanoeuvred. She declared the meeting closed. The shareholders filed out excitedly, unable to believe what they had just seen and heard.

65

Stella and Tom walked down Oxford’s High Street holding hands; the cold air nipped their noses, but they were enjoying the warmth of each other’s touch. In preparation for their meeting with Walter Maier to discuss the feasibility of a Christopher Chase exhibition, Stella had asked to meet up with Julia to get the lowdown on the German gallery owner. She was keen to make the best possible impression – both on Walter and on Tom’s mother. Stella was excited but nervous as they turned off the High Street where Julia’s little gallery The Hollyhock nestled in a quiet, scholarly mews.

‘How does your mum feel about not showing my father’s exhibition herself?’ asked Stella, cuddling up against Tom, trying to shelter from the arctic wind.

‘I think she was a bit disappointed when she heard you wanted to go with a big London gallery,’ said Tom honestly. ‘But she agreed it was probably for the best; she hasn’t really got the client-base to make a success of such a show. Plus, I think she’s trying to negotiate some commission with Walter so she gets something out of it.’

‘Good for her,’ said Stella. She had been feeling guilty about the arrangement, especially after hearing how Julia had bailed Tom out of his Ibiza debts. But at the same time, her opinion of Tom’s mother had increased enormously. A bell tinkled as they walked into the gallery and a forty-something man dressed in black came over to them.

‘Thomas. How are you?’ he said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

‘Fine, thanks, Jacques. Is my mother around?’

‘Sorry, she went to London first thing this morning. She said she’d be back by 3 p.m., but that appears not to be the case,’ he said tartly.

Tom disliked the implication as he knew Julia treated her staff very well. Poisonous little queen, he thought.

‘I imagine she’ll be visiting my sister,’ said Tom in a mild tone. ‘I don’t know if you heard, but she was almost killed a few days ago. Perhaps you’ll excuse her if she has more important things to worry about, especially when she pays you a great deal of money to manage the gallery for her.’

Jacques tutted loudly.

‘Do you mind if we wait here a little while? She might be back at any time and I need to pick her brains.’