The Rules of the Game (D'Arth Series Book 1) Read online

  “So they’re hedging,” someone said.

  “Probably,” Damon confirmed. “We’ll hear them out, but we’ll keep hammering out a deal with Sovent in the meantime.”

  Jane’s heart beat faster; he was dismissing them. He intended to listen politely and then do what he wanted. He knew Mr. Carmichael wanted to work with Clarion and he didn’t care.

  “Perhaps it would be best to run a contestable process,” Jane said to the group. If she’d thought about it she would probably chicken out, but it was part of her job to watch out for Mr. Carmichael’s interests in this company.

  “Is that what you think, Jane?” he asked with an edge of steel in his voice.

  “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “That way, each proposition can be judged against a pre-determined set of criteria and can be judged on its merits. We can also justify the decision to anyone, based on a more formal evaluation.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but she was full-on challenging Damon D’Arth. Hopefully no one in the room other than him and her would be aware of the fact she’d just challenged his dismissal of the Clarion proposal. She had at least reminded him that there were parties that were very interested in seeing what they were prepared to offer.

  Wishing she could look away, she had to stand by her own proposition. She could see the muscles of his jaw working. He wasn’t happy, but he smiled tightly.

  “I guess you’re volunteering to run that process, then,” he said slowly. He looked at her deliberately and then looked away. “Now, let’s get on with the main points of the bid.” The conversation moved on and Jane tried to think through what had just happened. He could be just humouring her by letting her run the process. This could just be indicated that he didn’t take it entirely serious. Performance analyst did not run proposal evaluation processes.

  If nothing else, she’d bought some time for Mr. Carmichael to make the justifications he needed before the team moved away from Clarion completely. Or maybe a contestable process would reflect the reason for Mr. Carmichael’s faith in them. She’d learnt that Mr. Carmichael didn’t give his support to companies lightly; chances were that he had very good reason for pursuing a tie up with them.

  The meeting finally broke up and Damon left the room first with a couple of the architects. Everyone else filed out of the room. Jane still felt like she hadn’t fully caught her breath.

  “My God, Jane, what were you thinking?” Rachel demanded. “Have you lost your mind? Why would you challenge him on the running of his own account? He’s free to choose any partner he damn well likes. You really need to learn your place,” she said dismissively before storming out of the room. Rachel wasn’t quite aware of Jane’s special association with one of the board members. As far as Rachel was concerned, Jane was just a glorified secretary, who obviously didn’t know her place.

  Chapter 3

  “I’m sorry to put you in this position, Jane,” Mr. Carmichael said the following Tuesday morning. “You’ve done well. I can imagine it would be challenging for you, but sometimes you have to take it on the chin.”

  “I’m not sure he’s going to listen,” Jane said.

  “I think he will, eventually. If I am right, he can’t afford not to. If he’s given the process to you, then run with it. For now there is nothing else for it.”

  Jane nodded. She wanted to say that it wasn’t a process someone like her should run, but she also knew that Mr. Carmichael wouldn’t approve of a statement like that. He expected her to do whatever was required and if running a contestable proposal process was it, then she would do it. People managed all the time—how hard could it be? Maybe a lot easier if she hadn’t managed to bait the account owner.

  “Do what you need to, Jane. We will deal with Mr. D’Arth when the time requires it.”

  “It’s going to be awkward if I am running a contestable process and there are still negotiations with one of the parties right next to me.”

  “There is nothing you can do about that. Just keep slogging away at it.”

  An uncomfortable feeling had settled in her stomach since the moment Mr. Carmichael had gotten her to track Damon down at that society fundraiser or whatever it was. Not only did she feel out of her depth, she’d also created a mountain of work for herself. She didn’t even know where to start. Trying to turn her problems over in her mind, she started the trek back to the office.

  Almost absentmindedly, she stepped off the curb to cross the street, but stopped herself just in time before the turning car swung around the corner. Of course, it was the coffee-coloured car of her least favourite account owner. She chuckled at the irony of almost being run over by him in his fancy car. It wasn’t quite a fire-engine red Ferrari, but a more muted Aston Martin that screamed success with a good dollop of self-confidence. People’s heads actually turned when he drove past.

  She, on the other hand, didn’t even have a car and if she did, it would be something dependable like a small Honda. She hated being in the position she was in—until a few months ago, a PA, pretty much one step above the mail room—and now she was expected to take on Damon D’Arth, who was for all intents and purposes a veteran corporate warrior.

  If it wasn’t for her protector, she was pretty sure she’d be mince-meat by now, but as long as Mr. Carmichael stood by her, it would be hard for Damon to just fling her aside. If she really had been just a jumped-up performance analyst, she would be walking away with her belongings packed in a small cardboard box. A sudden restructure that only affected a few people in the organisation—her and some other deadwood they were better off without.

  “Your flight details for Singapore,” Martha said as she laid an envelope on Jane’s desk.

  “Oh. Thank you,” she said to Martha’s retreating back.

  Angelica popped over the divider separating their desks. “You’re going?”

  “Looks like.”

  “That’s so awesome. Why can’t I go on business trips to warm tropical islands? Where is the justice in the world?”

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, I anticipate that it is going to be fraught with tension and hard work.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  With a smile, Jane wished she was, but she had so much to do over the next few weeks, she was certain she wasn’t even going to notice her surroundings. Opening the envelope, she pulled out the printed document with her flight details. It was a few days away. She needed to call her young cousin who would love a few weeks away from her university flat to house and cat sit.

  “You need to buy a swimsuit,” Angelica said. “A bikini. They’re on sale at the moment.”

  “Not sure I’m going to get the chance to go swimming.”

  “Then you need to make time. Do you want me to take you shopping?”

  I would probably rather go to the dentist, Jane thought. “No, that’s okay.”

  *

  Many of the people working on the bid left for Singapore the next day, while Jane stayed on. She worked non-stop to write the document for a partnership proposal evaluation process that included a quick turnaround, because they needed to have it settled before they could finalise the larger bid for the bridge. If she slowed them down, they’d just ignore her and her process completely.

  Staying at her desk, she jumped when she realised it was time to leave for the airport. She spent most of the flight putting the document together, but after a few hours, she just couldn’t continue as her brain turned to putty. Instead, she tried watching a movie she couldn’t follow, until she just fell asleep and was awakened to find a breakfast tray in front of her.

  It was dark outside when she arrived, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing or where she was going; she just followed the crowd through the huge bustling airport, through passport control and followed the crowd through the exit.

  The heat hit her like a wave, almost leaving her breathless. It took a bit of time to get a taxi, but she finally hopped in one and luckily the driver
knew where the hotel was. She’d be completely lost if he hadn’t. Then she just sat and watched the lights of the city pass her by. The buildings seemed to get taller as they went along, or maybe she was just getting sleepier.

  Waking with a start, she tried to orientate herself as the taxi pulled into the entrance of a hotel. A huge fountain stood in the middle of a circle of tall glass building and a porter took her bags, asking her if she was checking in. She stared at him for a few seconds before she got her brain to work. She needed to sleep, she’d only gotten a few hours on the plane and not enough the night before having worked until well past midnight. It was three in the morning back home and she felt like utter crap.

  The petite Singaporean lady at the desk smiled at her as she checked in. Jane couldn’t confirm exactly how long she was staying, but the woman seemed to be able to cope with that, for which Jane was grateful because she could not handle complicated questions at the moment.

  Making her way to the elevator, she tried to recall what level the woman had said her room was on. Her room was dark, but the full glass wall and the lights of the city provided enough light so Jane didn’t bother turning any on. She brushed her teeth and crawled into the starched bed sheets and fell asleep without further thought. Perhaps she should try setting an alarm, but it just seemed too complicated.

  It turned out she didn’t need to because she woke up at 4 am to darkness outside, but the lights of the city were just as they’d been when she’d gone to sleep. Looking out over the city, she noted there wasn’t much traffic. Hunger assaulted her, but breakfast wouldn’t be served until much later. Luckily room service was available all night, because she couldn’t wait three hours to eat.

  *

  Jane got into the office at seven. Technically, it was early, but she had a lot to do and there was little point sitting around in her hotel room. She’d forgotten about the heat and it hit her again as she walked out of the lobby before ducking into the taxi they’d called for her.

  The office wasn’t exactly like she’d imagined it. Unsure what she’d imagined, but this hadn’t been it. It was a nice office, a distinctly blue office with large windows looking down on some more traditional buildings—Chinese maybe. She wasn’t sure.

  “Hi,” a young woman said. “Are you with the party from New Zealand?”

  “Yes,” Jane said with a smile.

  “You’re working out of one of the meeting rooms. I’ll take you,” she said and waved Jane along down one of the corridors, taking her to a meeting room where there were computers set up around a large table. “Find a spot. There’s a kitchen along the corridor if you want to make yourself at home; else there is a Starbucks down on the corner.”

  “I might splash out for a fancy cup down on the street,” Jane said and the girl nodded.

  “Take this swipe card; it will get you in the doors. You’ll need it to go to the bathroom; wear it all the time,” she said and left.

  Jane set up her computer on what seemed to be an empty spot, then realised she should have asked the girl, who hadn’t given her name, if there was a printer available, but she had gone. Jane decided to deal with it later and went downstairs to find the coffee place. Sitting in the outside seating area, drinking her coffee with hazelnut syrup, she contemplated the heat. It was still really early, and it was incredibly hot. Did it get much hotter during the day?

  Damon just about groaned when she walked into the room. He guessed the mystery of who the extra computer belonged to was solved. She hadn’t been at breakfast in the morning. They all ate together and shared taxis to the office. But as her computer was set up, she must have gotten there before them.

  He could have managed without the close scrutiny of the Carmichael faction of the board, but he also knew that was just part of business.

  Noticing that she looked a bit flushed when she sat down in front of her computer, he had to admit it became her, and it hinted at a life and purpose other than office stalwart.

  “Is there a printer?” she asked. Before answered, one of the younger guys told her in detail how to access it. Damon wondered if the young man was interested in her; he certainly jumped to attention when she needed help. He supposed he couldn’t blame the young man; she was a pretty girl—not an outright beauty, but a pretty girl. Good girlfriend material for a young guy.

  Damon didn’t do girlfriends. He did dates and he did fucks and if they coincided, the better. The kind of girls he went out with, wanted to be seen with him; they didn’t really have expectations beyond the immediate gain and notoriety. He stayed away from the ones that had expectations beyond that. When it came down to it, they all wanted something from him—a rich husband, a promotion, or just a photograph in a magazine. The latter was the easiest price to pay.

  He wouldn’t care about Jane’s presence at all if it wasn’t for the fact that she was loyal to another camp. This, in essence, made her not a friend, hence an enemy. She’d shown guts too, standing up to him the way she had. She’d practically been shaking when she did it, but she’d done it none the less. There was a bit of steel in the girl; he could see why Carmichael liked her.

  She got up and walked out the door, searching for the printer. She had a nice figure, average clothes. She didn’t put her assets on show, but she was tidy and professional. He smiled as he saw the little wiggle in her hips as she walked; she would be completely unaware of it, but it was something guys noticed. Not the polished walk of someone who walks for a living, just a female oblivious to how males saw her. The young guy certainly noticed as she walked out of the room and then back with a document in her hand.

  “I have the proposal evaluation document,” she said as she stepped closer to where he stood. She apparently wasn’t going to give up pushing Carmichael’s agenda. Crossing his arms, he considered her blatantly.

  “It’s your process, Jane,” he said. He certainly wasn’t going to help her with it. If she insisted on running it, she could do it on her own. He had more important things to worry about than some irrelevant evaluation process. It was only Carmichael’s way of keeping the Clarion partnering proposal open. The message was already received; he wasn’t going to put any more time on it.

  Holding her head a little higher, she turned to take her seat again. There was certainly pride in the girl.

  *

  The day came to an end much sooner than Jane had hoped. She still had so much to do; she was going to have to do some work in her room that night. Actually, some uninterrupted time on her own might be good. It was too distracting sitting in that meeting room with his disapproval hanging over her every moment.

  He was very good at what he did, making decisions quickly, and he seemed to have a knack for asking the right questions. He was much more blunt that Mr. Carmichael, who approached things with more circumspection. She could see why he was so highly regarded though.

  They shared taxis back to the hotel, and it turned out that they were all staying at the same hotel, which wasn’t really surprising as Martha had booked all their trips. It was just that added bit of tension, not being able to escape even after hours.

  “Are you coming tonight?” Stephen asked. Jane liked Stephen, he was kind and helpful.

  “Coming where?”

  “There’s this seafood restaurant out on the coast. It’s definitely worth an outing, you should come.”

  “Okay,” Jane said. She hadn’t even thought about dinner. A break was certainly needed. If she kept working now, the quality of her work would only diminish if she didn’t have a proper break and time to recoup.

  “We’re meeting down here at seven. Be here if you want to come along,” he said, pointing at a group of seats on the other side of the lobby.

  “Okay, sounds good,” she said as she stepped into the elevator.

  Dropping her things off in her room, she stood by the large floor to ceiling window and looked out at the view. It was the first time she’d gotten to see it in full daylight. Everything was so incredibly green, even
as high above the ground as she was.

  After staring out the window for a while, she caught the headlines before she decided there was really nothing much to do in her room. She was quite glad to be going out to a restaurant that night; maybe she’d actually get to see a little more of this country than just the hotel and the office.

  Stopping at a little convenience store on the other side of the plaza, she decided that something sweet wouldn’t go amiss. While it was nice and cool in the hotel, it was still steaming hot outside. Not even on the hottest days back home did it ever get this steamy. She decided to try one of the local ice-creams. Getting out a five dollar note from her purse, she bought an interesting foreign ice-cream—a lychee sorbet. There were tables outside the little convenience store and she sat down at one. Bougainvillea were plants along the path, blooming in iridescent pink. It really was beautiful here, and the greenery was incredibly lush.

  As she ate her ice-cream she looked around and soon spotted Damon D’Arth coming around the corner on the far side of the hotel. He’d obviously gone for a run, which must have been quite a task in this climate. While it was cooling down a little as the sun was setting, the steamy heat just wouldn’t lift.

  He had his shirt off—a corner of it was stuffed in the back pocket of his shorts. She’d certainly been right, there was not much fat on his body. His chest was completely trim and muscular, and not in a way that was accidental. He obviously worked out on a regular basis; aided by a natural physique that meant he had broad shoulders, slim hips and strong, shaped legs.

  Jane groaned. Really, she thought, did he have to be perfect in every way? She actually felt it was quite confronting seeing him so undressed. He had a baseball cap that was turned around facing backward. It was one thing seeing him in a tux, quite another to see him dressed in his running gear, or without most of it to be exact. It made him a more rounded character, when she was quite happy to see him as one dimensional.