Behind the dais, a large white screen had been erected to project a magnified image of each speaker’s face to the more remote members of the audience.
Lunch had been served at 1 p.m., to the chagrin of the locals who viewed this as breakfast time, and a couple of dull speeches had been delivered while everybody ate paella and, in the case of the British and French delegates, got heavily stuck into the free-flowing Chablis. Waiting in the wings in a dark blue Balenciaga trouser suit, nervously scanning her speech cards for the hundredth time, Sasha could have murdered a stiff drink herself. It was only the thought of slurring her words in front of Jackson Dupree that made her hold back. Afterwards, she promised herself. As soon as I step off that podium, I’ll order a scotch. Only a couple of minutes to go now.
Carlos Gallo, the dapper CEO of the Spanish real estate giant Explorador and the master of ceremonies at today’s event, tapped Sasha on the shoulder.
‘Change of plan, cariña. We ’ave one other speaker now before you.’
Sasha felt sick. ‘But I … I’m ready now. What other speaker? Can’t they go later?’
‘Unfortunately not. Mr Dupree ‘as a plane to catch in a couple of hours. I know a lot of our attendees would want to hear Wrexall Dupree’s take on the European market. Mr Dupree was kind enough to offer to say a few words and then introduce you.’
Peering through the throng of faces, Sasha saw Jackson a few rows back. He was chatting and laughing with a sycophantic huddle of Eurotrash as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Some sixth sense made him look up and catch her staring. He flashed her a maddening smile.
Before she had time to protest any further, Carlos Gallo was gone. She felt her sleeve being tugged. Someone was pulling her further back into the shadows, away from the stage. Turning around, she saw it was Raj.
‘I don’t believe it.’ Sasha was shaking, close to tears. ‘That bastard Jackson’s asked to speak, now. He knows how hard I find this. He’s done it deliberately! He’s trying to throw me off.’
‘I’m afraid it’s worse than that,’ said Raj grimly. ‘Listen, Sash, there’s something I’ve got to tell you …’
Two hours later and Jackson Dupree’s roar could be heard through the floors of his eighth-floor suite, shaking light fixtures in the rooms below.
‘You fucker!’ he bellowed. ‘You swore to me you wouldn’t say anything! I hope you realize that your contract’s now null and void? I’m not hiring you and I’m not paying you a damned penny. FUCK!’ He banged his fist on the antique writing desk so hard it cracked like a stick of kindling. Raj, as ever, kept his cool. Jackson might want to throw his toys out of the cot because he’d failed to publicly derail Sasha, but Raj doubted the rest of the Wrexall board would back him.
‘Don’t be so childish, Jackson. You know I’m the best man for Wrexall. That’s why you made me the offer in the first place. Clearly the board agrees or they’d never have signed off on the package.’
‘I trusted you,’ Jackson fumed. ‘You warned her. You fucking warned her!’
‘Yes, I warned her. She’s my friend, and what you were trying to pull was just a shitty thing to do. You might not care whether the world thinks you’re a card-carrying wanker, but I do. You were right, me leaving Ceres for Wrexall was a business decision. And I don’t regret it. But throwing Sasha to the wolves like that? That’s not business. That’s spite. You know speaking in public terrifies her. It’s that kind of shit that made us all leave Wrexall in the first place.’
‘GET OUT!’ Jackson yelled at him. ‘Get the hell out of my sight!’
‘Fine,’ said Raj, unruffled. ‘But you’d better get your shit together, Jackson. Or, money or no money, I will walk away. I will stay at Ceres – and don’t kid yourself Sasha wouldn’t have me back in a heartbeat – and I’ll make sure the world, and the Wrexall board, knows why.’
He walked out, shutting the door behind him firmly but gently. In Jackson’s current mood, even that felt like an affront. Why can’t he lose his cool like a normal fucking human being? Why can’t he slam the door, or yell back. Why do I have to be the only jerk around here? He kicked the leg of the desk he’d just broken and winced at the pain in his shin. He knew Raj was right. He was being childish. And spiteful. And ridiculous. But he didn’t care.
Jackson had taken the podium earlier full of confidence, praising Ceres for their innovative business philosophy while simultaneously undermining them brilliantly, constantly stressing their youth and inexperience versus Wrexall’s maturity, longevity and rock-solid financial pedigree. Unlike Sasha, Jackson was an inspired speaker. Had he not gone into the family business he’d have made a terrific politician, masterfully shredding his opponents without landing any obvious or overt blows. In this case, however, after a carefully crafted speech that successfully belittled Sasha’s achievements, he launched a full-frontal nuclear strike in the form of Raj Patel, whom he invited onstage, introducing him to a shocked audience and industry press as Wrexall’s latest star hire.
Stepping down to gasps and thunderous applause, Jackson had taken his seat in the front row like a Roman emperor, waiting to watch Sasha being thrown to the lions. But instead of stammering confusion, he found himself watching a poised, thoughtful and above all gracious Sasha, deliver a speech that ultimately won her a six-minute standing ovation. Discarding everything she’d prepared, she spoke from the heart. About how much she owed Raj Patel, and how much she owed Wrexall Dupree. About how, as a young, experimental company, Ceres always pushed its people to accept new challenges, to move forward and be all that they could be. She joked about the tabloids painting her and Raj as a couple, pondering aloud whom she might be linked with next. ‘I hear Rafael Nadal’s single again,’ she quipped, to ecstatic applause (the home-grown Spanish tennis champ had won the US Open two days before). ‘Maybe I should stay in Spain for a while and work on my backhand?’
Seething with fury in the front row, the tennis analogy stuck in Jackson’s throat. He’d just served Sasha what ought to have been a sure-fire ace. But here she was, lobbing it back to him with the effortless grace of a champion. So much for the element of surprise.
Up in his suite, the phone rang. Jackson answered with a snarl. ‘Fuck off, I’m busy.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Lucius Monroe’s reedy, elderly voice had lost none of its dry, sardonic humour. He didn’t miss a beat. ‘I was calling to congratulate you on landing Raj Patel. That’s a great hire for us.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jackson grudgingly.
‘You don’t sound very happy about it, dear boy.’
‘Sorry, Lucius. It’s been a long day.’
‘Well, go out and celebrate. Better yet, get Patel to pick up the tab. He can afford it on what we’re about to pay him.’
Jackson hung up. Raj was a great hire. He knew he should be pleased, and focused on the bigger picture. But all he could think about was Sasha and the way this afternoon’s conference crowd had lapped her up. Raj’s defection should have been, at the very least, a PR nightmare for Ceres. But once again, Sasha had managed to turn things around.
The phone rang again. If one more person calls to congratulate me, I’m pulling the cord out of the wall. ‘Yes?’
‘You cunt.’ Sasha’s voice was quiet, but Jackson could feel the rage quivering in every breath. ‘It wasn’t enough for you to go after Raj. You had to try to humiliate me too, as publicly and painfully as possible. You knew how much I was dreading that speech!’
‘Yes, well, thanks to Mr Patel’s bleeding heart I never got the chance, did I? So I don’t know what you’re bitching about.’
‘Don’t know what I’m bitching about?’ Sasha sounded as if she was about to erupt. ‘Get over here.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I