by Renée Dahlia
“Of course I do. It’s an excellent project. People always forget the women.”
Priya threw her hands up in the air. “Yes. That’s it. Why can’t I find the right headline?”
“What were you going to write in your press release?”
“Before this blew up?”
“Yes.”
“New Charity Launched For War Widows.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. It’s all it needed to say.”
“Why not just say that? We can put more details in the article, including a quote at the end, saying that unfortunately some reporters have heard about this joint charitable project, added two and two and created seventy-five.” Rosalie picked up a cup of tea and sipped as if she’d solved the whole riddle.
“You know, you are right. Perhaps it needs a two pronged attack. A direct quote from Carlingford in its own article to refute the article, and that’s something we can nut out without needing input from the bank. And the announcement of the charity as scheduled with the note as you say. A little backhander against Fraud Finder.”
“He thinks he’s finding fraud, but he is the one inventing stuff from thin air.”
“I know a couple of people who would be interested in writing a rival piece about this invention...” Priya wasn’t sure she wanted to go down that road. She had nothing to hide, but she didn’t want to bait someone who already printed stories against Carlingford under the guise of theories.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Priya nodded. “Neither do I. I’m just throwing ideas around.”
“Is there a possibility you could sue the paper for libel? The story is untrue.”
“That’s not something Carlingford does. Besides, if we did consider it, shouldn’t we sue together since the article slanders both of us.”
Rosalie tilted her head. “You really didn’t read it, did you?”
“No.”
“It very carefully doesn’t slander either of us.”
Priya glared at Rosalie. “So why mention libel?”
Chapter 8
“I wanted to know your reaction.” Rosalie shouldn’t be so invigorated by this debate with Priya. They’d always met on equal ground intellectually and Rosalie adored this back and forth between them. From the moment, Priya had arrived in her office this morning, Rosalie’s pulse had quickened and when she’d declared she should stay and write the response together, Rosalie knew she’d lost her internal battle to stay aloof.
“And what did you discern about my character?”
If Rosalie was honest with herself, she’d cast serious aspersions against Priya’s character when she’d read the headline this morning. She’d thrown the paper down onto the table with force. To be asked the same question by Priya just now—as a jest—left her in the unusual position of not having an instant response. First there had been the awkward moment on the front steps at dinner with the photographer’s flash that had reminded Rosalie of the spotlight on Priya’s family and then the whole notion had turned into an explosive anger this morning. One that made her walk to work this morning much faster than usual. Priya had set her up. Now—as they’d discussed possible solutions—her anger slowly eased until the intense burn settled into a pile of embers in her stomach. It was still there, mingling with the desire. The throb in her veins was fuelled by dual emotions; need and anger. She was both betrayed by Priya’s use of a journalist to cheapen their meeting and energised by her thrilling unexpected arrival this morning. The equal amount of both emotions meant Rosalie wasn’t certain how to proceed. If she gave into the desire and challenge in Priya’s tone, wouldn’t that mean she was capitulating to the other argument?
“Your character?”
“Yes.”
“You are more impulsive than people think.” Rosalie had been surprised when Priya arrived this morning. She hadn’t expected such a rapid unthinking response from Priya who until now hadn’t acted without analysis. “You don’t care for the limelight.”
Priya’s eyes widened. “It is more complex than that. On occasion I need the limelight.”
“Using your name for gain isn’t the same as craving the limelight.” Rosalie knew the difference; her parents needed to be adored by the public, they wanted any and all attention from the press and they didn’t care if people hated them as long as they were being talked about. For Rosalie, she was more like Priya; using the newssheets for business and carefully managing the headlines to create the image she wanted portrayed.
“You rushed here on reading an erroneous headline and wanted to fix a problem before you’d bothered to read the article. I’m correct. You don’t care for the limelight when you aren’t controlling the messaging and after this morning, I certainly don’t think you can lay claim that you aren’t impulsive.” Rosalie wasn’t going to mention the night they’d met and Priya had followed her to the library on the slimmest of introductions. Impulsive. In the very best way. Rosalie would never be bored around Priya. The contrast between the way Priya presented herself in business meeting—distant and aloof—and the way she flirted in private would always intrigue Rosalie, almost as if Priya was different with her friends compared to the way she wanted the world to see her.
“Shall we focus on this article?”
Rosalie tried not to smile at Priya’s deflection. “Does talking about your character faults make you uncomfortable?” It should, it would make Rosalie flinch if the shoe was on the other foot.
“I don’t see how any analysis of me is going to get this article written.”
“And people accuse me of being driven by success and having extreme focus on the job.” The worry that Priya had set her up wouldn’t go away, and Rosalie found herself enjoying making Priya squirm a little under her persistent questioning.
“They would. Everyone always judges women by a higher standard.”
“Very true.” Rosalie nodded. “I do wonder, however, why you do it. You are in the unique position of not having to work for the family business. Why do it if you are so unfairly judged?” Rosalie pushed harder than she might have with anyone else. Curiosity blossomed, and Rosalie wanted to see if Priya would crumple under the uncomfortable questions.
“Why should I not? The women in my mother’s family have always worked.” Priya sat incredibly still, and Rosalie waited for more. People liked to fill silences and Rosalie wanted to know if Priya would do the same.
“It’s not just their example that drives me, but also a personal need to do something fulfilling with my time. I’ve been lucky to be born into wealth.” Priya paused for a breath and Rosalie jumped in with a slight deliberate sneer.
“Therefore you didn’t need to work.”
“By that standard, neither did you.”
Rosalie bit back the grin at their banter. This was so much fun. “Oh no. You can’t compare our situation at all.”
“Why is that? Aren’t we both the product of family wealth? And isn’t Sanderson and Sons an older business than Carlingford?”
“I can see how you might take such a simplistic comparison, but you neglect one important factor.”
“Oh?”
“A family business only stays in family control if there is someone competent to take over. When Father proved that he wasn’t that person, there were no other options.”
“But you were right there, and you run the bank now?” Priya’s confused tone and furrowed brow were the exact reaction Rosalie wanted.
“You make my point for me. My grandfather felt he had two options; put my incompetent Father in charge or sell the business. Even after he’d trained me to work at the bank and knowing that I understood the whole business, he felt that I was best served as a Board member and owner with a man in the main executive role.”
“None of that makes sense. The business stays in the family even with someone else running it. We are just going around in circles.”
“The ownership of the company might stay with the family; at
least until the women who own shares get married and then it all changes.” An unmarried daughter like herself would keep the business in family control; as a placeholder until Gloria’s sons could take over. It was a precarious position with the shares spread between her and Gloria, one that relied on Gloria’s husband to want the same long term plan. Technically the Marriage Act meant Gloria’s shares in Sanderson and Sons were hers alone, but Rosalie had seen too many examples where women had to fight to prove their ownership. It was frustrating that a woman’s ownership was still deemed temporary, even though she had the full rights of her shareholding, and that the whole decision making process could be taken over if she married depending on the man she married and how well he utilised the law for his advantage. A shadow passed over Priya’s face but it disappeared before Rosalie could ask about it. Did it mean she understood the nuances too?
“Can we focus on this press release? Honestly, I don’t understand why you are prevaricating about it. It’s in your interests to tell the world that there is no grandiose plan to take over the bank.”
Rosalie nodded. “Business first. So... Charity To Benefit War Widows Launched?” She realised she’d been willing to put this aside for the moment because it reminded her that Priya might not be being honest with her and she really didn’t like that. She gulped. Why couldn’t she like someone who didn’t have ulterior motives? Was she doomed to self-sabotage her life because she was attracted to complicated women?
“Yes. Something like... A joint venture between Carlingford Enterprises and the bank Sanderson and Sons has formed to launch a new charity to benefit war widows. In the style of Lloyd George’s plan to build housing for returned soldiers, the charity will build a new housing estate in London for war widows and their families. Qualified families will be able to apply for small business loans, and the estate will be built by those who will live there. Construction is planned to begin within the month and tenders for the work can be submitted to Carlingford Enterprises’ London office.”
“Hold on a moment.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll get Mrs Patel and she can take shorthand notes as you dictate, then type up formal copies for distribution.” Rosalie found the shift in Priya’s demeanour a little jarring and she wanted to re-establish the bank as an equal partner in this joint venture. Perhaps the world wasn’t ready for two intelligent women to work together? No. Society might be threatened by each of them, but history told Rosalie that women had been in leadership roles for eons. They might get erased or ignored by the popular press, however, that didn’t mean they’d never existed. The same could be said for anyone who wasn’t a title holding wealthy man.
***
Priya walked out of the bank into the bright London summer day with the press release in her hand ready for distribution to the various newspapers. Rosalie’s phrasing around the loan scheme was brilliant. It was terribly energising to work with someone like Rosalie who just got on with the job without the unnecessary need for Priya to prove her worth. If they didn’t have the sensual history, this charitable work would be straight forward. But they did, and Priya wasn’t sure what to do about it. She wanted more kisses, and yet, it was much too complicated especially given that Rosalie wouldn’t be inclined to trust her right now. She should have mentioned something... Oh, by the way, I’ve invited a photographer to take a candid image of us after dinner to get our charity a little publicity.
It was too late now. She made her way towards Fleet Street and the offices of most of the major newspapers. They’d agreed that the press release should be given to everyone. There was no point in maintaining exclusivity when Fraud Finder had already speculated about why they were having dinner together. Priya wanted to roll her eyes. If she were planning a covert takeover of another business, she wouldn’t be daft enough to have dinner in such a public environment. It was more erasure of her ability to think with business sense that Fraud Finder would assume such a simple misstep. She tapped her fingers on her reticule and hummed under her breath.
If Fraud Finder under-estimated her business acumen, perhaps she could use that to find him. The idea of using Carlingford’s deep pockets to find him nagged at her. She wouldn’t abuse her power and wealth like that; especially since he would expect it of her. Why prove him right when she could prove him wrong?
The sudden touch on her arm had her spinning around. “Rosalie?”
“The doorman told you left your motorcar parked outside the bank and I wondered if you’d forgotten?”
“Did you follow me to Fleet Street because you were concerned about my memory?”
Rosalie’s cheeks flushed pink. “Not your memory specifically. I was concerned that I’d offended you somehow and that’s why you’d marched off.”
Priya’s spine stiffened, and she held her breath to help her figure out a rational answer. Even now, after they’d written the press release together, Rosalie still assumed the worst of her. She ought to be offended by it, by the... oh, by the way Rosalie cared for her good opinion. Huh, how interesting.
“Priya?”
“I’m not offended. I simply thought that today is such a lovely day and the distance between your bank and Fleet Street isn’t far. It’s a lovely day for a walk, don’t you think?”
“Oh.”
“Not everything has to be complicated.”
Rosalie tilted her head. “I see.”
“Rosalie. We are working on the same project. We don’t have to be friends.”
Rosalie’s chest rose as she breathed in deep and Priya glanced away so it wouldn’t be obvious that she noticed the way Rosalie’s jacket hugged her curves.
Rosalie leaned closer and whispered. “But we could be lovers.”
“Again.” Priya blurted, then ground her teeth together. No amount of wooziness in her head would suck that word back inside. Had Rosalie actually said what Priya was thinking? Aloud. In the street where anyone might hear? Gosh. How bold. A thrill raced down her spine.
“Yes, again.” Rosalie stood up straighter, shifting away from Priya, yet her perfume lingered in the air with a hint of cloves and vanilla blended with unburned tobacco. The combination was seductive and elegant without the acrid smokiness of a lit gasper.
“I don’t understand you. Are you seriously propositioning me on a busy London street?”
“Is there a better place?”
Priya snorted out a laugh. “Rosalie. You surprise me. Yes. Literally anywhere would be more private than the street connected to Fleet Street. There could be—”
“—reporters everywhere. No one would expect it, you see.”
“That much is true.” Priya blinked. “Do you have a plan for how to proceed?”
“Is that a yes?”
Priya licked her bottom lip with purpose. “I suppose it is. When and how would you like to proceed?”
“I expected you would push me away.”
“If that’s what you prefer? Would you like more of a chase?”
“Miss Howick!” Rosalie took a half-step backwards, her eyes widening.
“Well?” Priya sensed victory and it emboldened her. “I recall you didn’t fluff around last time, but so much time has passed that perhaps you’ve forgotten.”
“I will have you know that I have an excellent memory.” Rosalie paused, then stepped closer again, her voice lowered in both volume and tone. “For taste as well as touch.”
“Oh.” Priya’s face burned with heat as she recalled how readily Rosalie had knelt before her, how her fingers and tongue felt against Priya’s inner thighs. She wanted Rosalie again. Now. The horn on a car blasted and she flinched. Someone had to keep their wits about them; they were quite literally flirting on a busy street. “I need to deliver this press release. Perhaps we should confer after that is achieved.”
“Confer?”
“Yes. Book a hotel room for the afternoon. We can discuss the charity over lunch and then retire for...” Priya wasn’t willing to speak the words aloud. Not whe
n anyone could be listening.
“I like your plan. How should I contact you?”
“Leave a note with your doorman and I will collect it when I pick up my vehicle.” Priya was amazed her voice sounded so normal as she negotiated to kiss Rosalie; nah, probably more than kiss. They both stood still for a long minute, staring into each other’s eyes. Priya was transfixed in the moment until Rosalie bowed her head, spun on her heels, and walked away.
“Till later.” Priya whispered into the empty air. How on earth could she concentrate on her task now? The entire conversation surprised her; how had they gone from cautious distance to this bold meeting of hearts? No, not hearts, just bodies and pleasure. Looking around her, Priya tried to settle herself back into the real world. People were walking, talking, smiling, almost with a hearty concentration on happiness as if they needed to be as upbeat as possible in the aftermath of the last six years. The war and the flu were not to be discussed. If the world was going to seek pleasure, then Priya could too. Guilt be damned. But as always, she was reminded of her past mistakes. She had to put this charity, and other people’s needs, first.
Chapter 9
Priya stepped into the lobby of London’s Ritz Hotel and looked around for Rosalie. When she’d read Rosalie’s note, the choice had surprised her. Why had she selected one of the most popular lunch spots in town? The food was incredible at the Ritz, those little tea sandwiches were so fresh and delightful, and the cakes were always elegant and sweet. To select such a pretentious glamourous location surprised Priya, especially given Rosalie’s reticence over their last public meeting. The Ritz was hugely popular with London’s rich and famous meaning they would be seen. If she’d wanted less publicity, surely Rosalie could have suggested they meet at a private club, and many of those were now open to having women on their exclusive membership. Surely the Sanderson name opened many doors. Just when she thought she had Rosalie figured out, she made a choice that unbalanced her again. It intrigued her and pulled her out of her own head which... She breathed out. Wasn’t that part of her fascination?
