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‘I did.’
‘You mean Mr Anderson gave you the information and you collated it.’
‘No, I mean I put together the information I thought you’d need to be able to make an informed decision about the future of the company.’
Damon glanced at the complexity of the data on the screen and then back at her. ‘I consider it a serious offence to take credit for someone else’s work.’
A wry smile tilted the corners of her mouth. ‘Really? It makes a refreshing change to hear that from someone in authority. Maybe we’ll work well together after all.’
Damon stared at the spreadsheet, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. ‘What exactly was your official role in the company?’
‘I was my father’s executive assistant, which basically means I did a bit of everything.’
A bit of everything. ‘So this isn’t Mr Anderson’s spreadsheet?’
‘Mr Anderson couldn’t switch the laptop on, let alone create a spreadsheet.’
Damon leaned back in his chair. ‘So you’re good with computers?’
‘I’m good with a lot of things, Mr Doukakis. Just because I wear pink tights and have fun with my nails it doesn’t make me stupid any more than wearing jeans would make you approachable.’ She still had her hand on the door handle, as if she was ready to run at a moment’s notice. ‘I need to get back downstairs. Having your future in someone else’s hands is very traumatic for everyone. It would mean a lot if next time you go down there you could maybe smile or say an encouraging word.’
‘They should be grateful I’ve taken control. Without me your business would have been bankrupt within three months.’ And in an attempt to protect his sister he’d landed himself with still more responsibility for jobs and lives. He felt like Atlas, holding the heavens on his shoulders.
‘We’ve had problems with our cash flow, but—’
‘Is there any part of the business you haven’t had problems with?’
‘The clients love us because we’re very creative.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘All I want is your assurance that there will be no redundancies.’
‘I can’t make that assurance until I’ve unravelled the mess your father has created.’
‘I know parts of the business have problems. I’m not going to pretend they don’t. But I’m asking you to look deeper and learn about how we work before you make an irrational decision.’
‘Irrational?’ Brows raised with incredulity, Damon leaned forwards in his chair. ‘You think I make irrational decisions?’
‘Normally, no. But in this case—’ she breathed slowly ‘—yes. I think you’re so angry with my father, and you feel so helpless about your sister, you were willing to do anything that might give you back some element of control. And as for the way you feel about me—you haven’t forgotten I’m the reason your sister was permanently excluded from school at fourteen. I really messed that up, I admit it, but don’t use something I did ten years ago to punish the staff. That wouldn’t be fair.’
Damon sat still, forced to acknowledge that there was at least a partial truth in her accusation. Had he been unfair to judge her on something that had happened when she was still young? ‘Go and settle the staff in downstairs.’ His tone was rougher than he’d intended. ‘I’ll call you if I have any questions.’
An hour later he had more questions than he had answers. Exasperated, he hit a button on his phone and summoned his finance director. ‘Ellen, can you come in here?’ His eyes still fixed on his computer screen, he drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. ‘And bring the salary details for the Prince people. There’s something wrong with the numbers.’
Moments later he was staring at another set of figures that still didn’t make sense. Trying to unravel the puzzle, he stood up abruptly. ‘According to this information, all of these people took a salary cut six months ago. And his daughter has barely been paid a living wage for the past two years.’
‘I know. I’ve been going over the figures too.’ Ellen spread the summary pages over his desk. ‘The company is barely afloat. It’s a small agency with the overheads of a big agency.’
‘But the board are primarily responsible for those overheads.’ Polly Prince had been right in her assessment, he thought grimly. The board had been sucking the company dry. First-class flights. Elaborate lunches. Thousand-pound bottles of vintage wine… The list went on and on.
‘They’re in serious financial trouble. They’ve been hit by the economic downturn but made no compensatory moves. Peter Prince badly needed to trim staff. Instead they appear to have agreed to take a cut rather than allow anyone to be laid off.’ Ellen adjusted her glasses. ‘The business is a mess of course, but you knew that when you bought it. On the plus side they have some surprisingly good accounts and somehow they’ve just won a major piece of business with the French company Santenne. Their leading brand is High Kick Hosiery. That’s going to be huge. Didn’t our people pitch for that?’
‘Yes.’ The news that they’d lost out to Prince Advertising did nothing to improve Damon’s mood. ‘So how did Prince win it? They’re the most shambolic operation I’ve ever encountered.’
‘That’s true. Financially and structurally they’re a disaster. Creatively—well, I assume you’ve seen this?’ A strange light in her eyes, his finance director handed him a folder she’d brought with her.
‘I haven’t seen anything.’
‘But you always research companies so carefully.’
‘Well this time I didn’t.’ His tone was irritable and Ellen looked at him calmly.
