The Rules of the Game (D'Arth Series Book 1) Page 2

  Walking into the planning meeting in the afternoon, he noted her presence. She’d snuck into the room like she always did. She wouldn’t be long out of university. There was practically nothing of note on her CV, which showed she was truly out of her depth. He hoped the girl understood this.

  The architects did their thing; they were clearly excited. The structural engineers looked murderous, but they always did. They had till the end of the week to agree on design, even if that meant they had to stay here every night until they had something they could propose to the client—something that showed functionality, flair and creativity. It would have to be a statement piece of architecture as well. The clients had high standards, and they had to deliver something extraordinary. Hopefully this team could pull it off. The fight he’d had to acquire some extraordinary architecture talent was about to pay off. It had better pay off. If they delivered something substandard, it would be on his ticket.

  Unfortunately, he knew some of the other managers would choose this time for political point-scoring. It would be the ideal time, as he was distracted. It would be the time he’d choose if he was in their shoes. Luckily, he was never that distracted so he couldn’t see an ambush coming. He was prepared; he just had to watch for the players’ manoeuvres, and hope it wasn’t Carmichael. He wasn’t sure he could handle such an assault right now. It might actually be a good idea to keep tabs on the girl.

  He watched her as she sat down in her seat, neatly dressed in a black skirt-suit. Predictable office clothes for your typical work horse. A nice figure as far as office girls went, but too serious a persona for an office girl on the prowl. He knew the prowl type well, their shirts were a little tighter and their heels higher, and their aim was a little fumble in a dark board room. Their underlying aim was power; they just didn’t quite realise how misguided they were. When it came down to it, lifting your skirt wasn’t a useful commodity beyond mere diversion. They just ended up being fodder for the office gossips—and not just the girls’.

  He’d learnt to never underestimate the effectiveness of the office girl gossip channel, which was why he didn’t deal with the crass girls who wanted to meet him alone in a darkened boardroom. It was typically more trouble than it was worth as those girls always had expectations of promotion afterward.

  He’d learnt his mistakes early in his career and knew the tricks to watch out for. Jane definitely wasn’t one of those girls. She would never have gotten Carmichaels patronage if she was, and it meant there was more to her than the non-descript office clothes and seeming efficiency.

  Chapter 2

  The week was a flurry of meetings, some of them quite heated. The architects and engineers agreed on precious little and they sometimes didn’t show each other due respect. Jane noticed that Damon didn’t attend all of the meetings; he was off doing whatever it was he did.

  Walking into the end-of-week summary meeting which was in one of the smaller meeting rooms, she felt a little out of place as it included the core managers on the project. They all had tasks to report on, while she’d been stuck reporting on compliance issues. It was dog work, but someone had to do it. Actually, she was glad to have something to contribute. It was an exciting project, even if her presence wasn’t exactly encouraged.

  “So we need to relocate parts of the project to Singapore—start pushing our agenda with the relevant parties. I’m sending Stephen and his team over next week. Andrew will deal with the Melbourne designers. How is the logistics planning going?” Damon demanded.

  Discussions about the logistics went on for a while and Jane tried to follow along.

  “We should look at partnering with Sovent. Clarion Terra is likely partnering with a competing bid, so we need to be wary of that when dealing with them. Will you be joining us in Singapore?” he suddenly asked Jane.

  She hadn’t even considered her on-going role and she was being put on the spot to give an answer. About to say no, she remembered Mr. Carmichaels wish for her to keep close tabs on Damon—and Damon would be in Singapore. His scrutiny on her; it made her want the floor to open and swallow her. He made her lose her cool and she hated it. Clearing her voice in hope it didn’t sound too distressed or uncertain, she confirmed that she would. She certainly didn’t want to convey the uncertainty she felt. She could always cancel if she was overstepping her mark. Overstepping at this point was better than saying no and coming back to change her mind after she’d been told her response by her leader.

  Damon leaned back in his chair and ran his forefinger along his top lip while he considered her answer. She could see him thinking through the implications of Mr. Carmichael’s actions, wishing she could just say that they weren’t nefarious; Mr. Carmichael just wanted to know what was going on. She wasn’t an evil presence they were being subjected to. Finally Damon nodded and moved onto the next topic.

  She continued to watch him as he dealt with his team—a team she was technically part of, although everyone knew her loyalties were divided. His fingers gently undid the cap of his expensive pen while he listened, likely unaware of this small action. He had lovely hands, strong, tanned and neat. A scar that ran across the back of one of his hands and she wondered how it’d gotten there. Maybe a childhood injury? She would have thought it would humanise him a bit, but scars actually just made him more intimidating.

  If it had been a thousand years ago, he would have a sword to her throat by now, probably would have run her through already. He’d be a knight—rich, powerful and scary, and he would not have to put up with the presence of inconsequential enemies like her. But times were different, luckily—because her cat would miss her dearly if she was killed by office politics. Crap, what was she going to do with her cat if she went to Singapore?

  *

  Sitting down on her couch, she fed her cat a piece of stray tuna from her sandwich. It wasn’t a fancy dinner, but it did the trick. Some might think her life boring, but she loved her evenings with her cat and her favourite TV shows. Her evenings were relaxing and she did the things she enjoyed, which included a guilty pleasure involving trashy magazines, a home manicure and occasionally some indulgent baking.

  Her home was set up like she wanted it. It was a modest flat, but she’d spent a great deal of time picking the things she put in it. Having gone for a bit of a tropical island look, she felt she’d managed to achieve it. She might change next year, maybe try a completely different look. Redecorating was one of the joys in life as far as she was concerned.

  The phone rang and she was expecting her mother when Mr. Carmichael’s name appeared on the screen. “Jane, dear, could you come see me?” he said. It sounded like a question, but it was an order.

  “Of course, now?”

  “Yes, I am at Carlucci’s. Come on down,” he said and hung up. Carlucci’s was down by the marina. Taking the train this time of night wasn’t a great option, so she’d have to call for a taxi. Hopefully she would just slip the expense by Martha, who did not put up with frivolous claims, or so she termed it. If you wanted to put anything on the company credit card, you had to make a good case for it, especially taking taxis home at night. Damon D’Arth would never be queried on his expenses, but life was different for people like her. Then again, if Martha was responsible for accounting for his expenses, he may well get an earful, too. The thought of Martha interrogating him made Jane smile. Small victories counted.

  It turned out to be a busy night at Carlucci’s and Jane wasn’t dressed to fit in with this crowd. She didn’t even own clothes to fit in here. This was where the old money hung out. They kept themselves separate by the sheer price of the meals, although there was the odd civilian celebrating a special birthday, but normal people didn’t put up with these prices. Normal people would feel they were being taken advantage of; old money paid to be with their social group. This was not the group Damon hung out with. He was with the young and famous set; he’d likely eventually graduate to this set in time, but he wasn’t there yet.

  “Jane, dear. T
hanks for coming down. Would you like a drink?” Edmund asked as she joined him at a table with a spotless, white linen table cloth—real linen, too. A drink was presented to her without her ordering one—a gin and tonic—her preferred drink, which apparently the waiters knew about her. Maybe something that would be less creepy if you were used to it.

  “Now, Jane,” he said in his usual steady manner. “I think it is important that we work with Clarion.” He’d obviously heard the outcome of the team meeting held that afternoon, and she hadn’t had a chance to tell him. This meant he was getting information from other sources as well. “I have set up a meeting with the Vice President of Asia. This is an important man and getting in his ear is a bit of a coup. Unfortunately, we must move quickly, and he only has a half-hour tonight. I need you to get Damon on the phone with him tonight.”

  “I can call him,” Jane offered.

  “He’s at an event, and he’s not answering,” Edmund said patiently.

  “Of course,” Jane said, feeling a little stupid.

  “I need you to go get him. We cannot miss this call. Go now. I understand he’s at the Hyatt. You’re a good girl, Jane. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” Jane appreciated the sentiment, but she knew it wasn’t strictly true. If Edmund Carmichael needed something, it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the night or the weekend—it was just part of the job and she didn’t mind.

  Walking out of the restaurant, she flagged down a taxi, with a driver that was less than pleased at a fare that only ran around the city centre. That was not her concern at the moment; chasing down Damon D’Arth was her only objective. Unfortunately, the Hyatt had many function rooms so she wasn’t sure where to find him. Maybe he was even in one of the hotel rooms, although that wouldn’t make sense as he had a rather nice apartment nearby. Everyone knew Damon had the penthouse apartment in Auckland’s most exclusive residential building.

  She couldn’t see him in the lobby so she studied the events boards trying to imagine what kind of event he’d be at. There was a launch of some kind of IT sounding company, which she dismissed. Not his cup of tea. An Amway sales conference and a hospital fund raiser. It had to be the fund raiser and she went in search for the room. As she got close she knew she was right. People were dressed to the nines, which was his kind of crowd.

  Making her way into the room, a woman gave her an empty glass thinking she was part of the waiting staff. Now she was stuck carrying this glass as she had nowhere to put it. She searched the crowded room for Damon, but she was having trouble seeing him. Then she finally spotted him and started to make her way towards him.

  He was talking to this gorgeous woman who had on some kind of flowing gown in a green jungle print—a dress that would likely cost more than Jane’s entire wardrobe. It was gorgeous though, if you had the figure to wear it, which few people in this world could manage.

  Damon turned his head sideways and caught a glimpse of her. His eyes narrowed. As she suspected, he was less than pleased to see her. He was formally dressed in a tux and looked stunning. She’d seen him dressed like this in photos, but never in real life. It was nothing but flattering for his physique. Her grandmother would call him dashing.

  “What are you doing here, Jane?” he said sharply. The tall gorgeous creature next to him turned to look at her, too. Smiling tightly, Jane noted the Amazon creature was almost as tall as he was. They looked like some high-end Italian advert for a luxury brand, standing there next to each other, looking fabulous. There was nothing crass looking about the girl; she had silky light brown hair that went perfectly with her flawless tawny skin—an impossibly perfect girl with her large eyes and exquisite bone structure. People like her couldn’t possibly be real, Jane thought to herself, but here she was, living and breathing. What would life be like for a girl like that?

  “I need to have a word,” Jane said, feeling intensely uncomfortable as Damon’s unrelenting stare seemed to challenge her right to breathe.

  “It’s after hours,” he said coldly.

  “Are you being stalked?” the perfect, leggy creature said with amusement.

  “It’s important,” Jane said pointedly. The creature looked like she didn’t believe a word and Damon looked unconvinced as well. “Seriously, would I be here otherwise?” Jane bit out.

  Damon turned to his girlfriend or whatever she was and excused himself. The girl gave him a withering look. It was good to know he got those looks as well as dished them out. “I’ll be right back.” The girl turned her attention to Jane and narrowed her eyes.

  Whatever, Jane thought as she turned to follow Damon as he strode towards the door of the large ball room. He kept walking towards the lobby and placed himself in a plush chair facing a table. A waiter came over before Jane had a chance to sit down. Really, these waiters were eager, or maybe they were just used to impatient clientele.

  “Why are you here?” Damon asked after ordering a scotch on the rocks. He didn’t bother ordering her anything, which further established his disrespect for her. She was completely capable of ordering her own, but she didn’t want to stay longer than she had to. Not knowing exactly how to convey her message, she now struggled. She’d been so focused on trying to find him that she hadn’t prepared how to broach the subject.

  “There is a conference call tonight,” she started tentatively. She knew he wasn’t going to receive this well and she was trying to find some way of making it sound like a suggestion rather than an order. “One has been organised with Martin Southall, the VP of Asia at Clarion.”

  “We’re not dealing with Clarion.”

  “Perhaps it would be a good idea to hear them out,” she suggested. This was an intensely uncomfortable discussion.

  “Carmichael thinks it’s a good idea,” he stated. He was challenging her attempt to make this seem like a natural course of action. It was also blatantly a statement that she was a mere go-between in this scenario. She wasn’t entirely sure she minded, as it was true.

  “Mr. Southall has a free half-hour in forty-five minutes time,” she continued, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting. Well, she had delivered the message. There was nothing else for her to say. On one level, she wanted to sympathise at being ordered around, but on another, this was playing on a level she had no business being on. She could just as well emotionally stay out of it and let them play politics between each other. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said and got up. He didn’t follow suit, just took a swig of his scotch.

  Escaping out of the hotel as fast as she could, she was lucky enough to find a taxi waiting for someone making a quick exit. She couldn’t wait to get home and into her sweats again—that’s where she belonged, at home in front of the TV, not at some high society party with black tie dress code. Damon did look awesome in a tux. It showed off his trim waist and muscular shoulders very nicely. She suspected there was nothing about him that was soft and cuddly; he was all hard muscle. Between him and his girlfriend there wasn’t an ounce of spare fat. Then again she couldn’t imagine those two creatures cuddling; certainly not sitting in front of the TV with a tub of ice-cream.

  There was a definite call for ice-cream that night. She would have to go for a run tomorrow to make up for it, but it was worth it.

  *

  The office was busy when she got in the following morning. The late night meant she’d slept a little longer than usual and she’d had to take a later train. Carrying her ham and cheese croissant to make up for her skipped breakfast, she sat down and sighed before taking a bite and turning on her computer. Looking around the office while the computer loaded, she saw Sarah sitting at her desk conducting her morning routine while waiting for her boss. She was speaking on the phone and Jane wondered if she was speaking to Damon.

  She wasn’t sure what the call last night had included, or the implications for the deal they were working on. She didn’t even really know if Damon had conducted the call like he was supposed to. Maybe it would be her fault if he’d blown it off. Saw
she supposed to have stayed and made sure he did? She hoped not. Surely he wasn’t petulant like a child and refused to do something a board member asked him to. She rubbed her temples; it was only early and already she had a tension headache.

  Her inbox was clear, indicating that nothing had gone astray, or even if things had gone well. It was only a few minutes until the first planning meeting of the day—Damon still hadn’t arrived.

  “You coming?” Rachel asked as she got up. Rachel was the self-important project assistant whose job was pretty much confined to taking minutes. She acted like she ran the show, but who was Jane to argue? “You have two minutes.”

  “I’ll just be a second,” Jane said and tried to organise her notes ahead of the meeting. She took her tablet in case there were some bits of the meeting that were completely irrelevant to her, so she could get out an email or two. The problem with all these meetings was that they got in the way of her actual work.

  She had to hurry to get there in time. Everyone was seated around the table when she arrived, but Damon wasn’t present so the meeting hadn’t started. This didn’t stop Rachel from giving her a dirty look. Rachel came from the Symax part of the company, like Damon, so Jane had only worked with her for a month or so. They’d graduated at the same time and Jane suspected Rachel felt Jane’s promotion to an analyst role wasn’t entirely deserved or justified.

  It took ten minutes before Damon walked through the door, looking cool and collected as always, but he was rarely late. Somehow she doubted he’d slept in. There must have been something going on that morning—something she hadn’t heard about. She wondered if Mr. Carmichael knew. Maybe they’d met.

  “It seems that Clarion wants to play ball,” Damon said to the room. Jane got the feeling he was ignoring her. “They’ve indicated their interest to us last night, and apparently they’ve been talking to certain members of the board ahead of that. I think we need to be wary of them. I’d bet quite a bit on the probability of them working with one of our competitors on this deal.”