Page 183 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

‘What’s the real problem, Steven?’ she said. She thought she knew exactly what it was. In the New Year’s Honours list she had been granted an MBE for services to fashion, and Steven had almost blown his top at the news. ‘It’s my gong, isn’t it?’ she said triumphantly. ‘People know my name, not yours, and you hate it.’

His expression soured. ‘This is business, Sasha, not a popularity contest.’

‘We are in the business of popularity, Steven,’ she snapped.‘That’s why I work so hard getting the right people into our clothes, getting them seen in the right places. Rivera is a fashion brand. The moment we cease to be fashionable, we are dead.’

She looked at her watch. Damn, it was half past one already. She had a lunch to get to.

‘And this is exactly why I can’t stand here arguing with you,’ she said, moving towards the door. ‘I’m just off to meet Princess Jali Hassan. And before you ask, it’s work. Not pleasure. I have an interesting commercial opportunity for us.’

‘What is it?’ he said sceptically.

She didn’t have time for this, but she was aware she needed his support. She sighed and turned back.

‘As you know, the princess’ family owns half of Abu Dhabi. They’ve seen what’s happened in Dubai and are looking to be the new tourist force in the Middle East.’

‘What has that to do with Rivera?’

‘They want to stage a major polo tournament out there and are looking for an international luxury brand to be the headline sponsor.’

She frowned at the silence, watching Steven’s round face crinkle, the glasses pushing up his nose. He was so conservative.

‘I’m not sure how relevant hospitality marketing is any more in this climate.’

‘Hospitality marketing is completely relevant, Steven,’ she said, her irritation mingling with a slight sense of panic. She’d already told Princess Jali that of course Rivera would be the headline sponsor. The lunch today was to get the ball rolling, and Sasha was especially looking forward to fleshing out the details – preferably at Jali’s family palace on the Gulf Sea.

‘Times are tough, Sasha, even for luxury brands, and we need to look really hard at where we put the marketing spend.’

God, he’s so small-minded, she thought.

‘But this isn’t just about marketing, Steven. One of our company priorities is global expansion. The Gulf is a

hugely important market for us and Abu Dhabi is eclipsing Dubai as the new Middle East playground and honey-pot for investment. Look at Formula One. The newest race on the circuit is there.’

‘You’re right, Sasha,’ he said, pausing just long enough to make her think she had won, then continued. ‘One of our company priorities is global expansion. But in an economic downturn, we still have to tighten our belts, and I won’t sanction wasting hundreds of thousands of marketing money on sponsoring a polo match.’

Sasha ground her teeth. She could tell when Steven was about to dig his heels in, and as chief executive he had the final say-so on sign-offs unless it was a matter that needed board approval. How was she supposed to explain that to Princess Jali over Dover sole?

The answer it turned out was simple: she postponed the lunch, citing a migraine, and made a call. If there was one person more powerful than Steven in the company, it was the chairman of Duo Capital, Randall Kane, who in essence was their owner. Randall had a hands-off approach to the business which Sasha usually appreciated; she didn’t like anyone micro-managing any part of her life. And anyway, why would Randall care how Rivera was run, as long as it was making him money? The label was just one of his many investments, spread out over the globe, and so he was constantly in the air, taking meetings in New York, Houston or Shanghai.

She booked the best table at Scott’s restaurant and was wearing her most flattering figure-hugging cashmere dress as she slowly walked to the table, swinging her hips.

‘Randall,’ she smiled, leaning across to give him a kiss and a brief flash of cleavage. ‘So sorry to miss you at the board meeting the other day. You know how it is with these royal weddings.’

‘No I don’t,’ he laughed. ‘But I hope you’re going to tell me.’

Randall was a fifty-something East Coast WASP who had made a fortune in hedge funds over the last decade. Sasha was sure this was why he was investing in Rivera – lunches with one of the most desirable women in fashion, plus the social ammunition of Sasha’s juicy insider gossip which he could then use at his next dinner party.

‘Funny you should ask about that.’ She smiled. ‘I actually have an exciting business proposal for you involving a princess.’

‘A princess? She single?’

Sasha laughed. She knew she had him. Steven wasn’t going to like her going over his head, but he had forced her hand. It was dog eat dog out there.

‘Well, you know Abu Dhabi is the most exciting Gulf state right now,’ she began, touching Randall’s hand conspiratorially. ‘Oil-rich, progressive. Well, an interesting commercial opportunity has just presented itself ...’

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April 2010