‘I’ll tell her to expect the call.’
Robert rested his glass on the wall and dipped his hand into his pocket.
‘I overheard the conversation about the Houston dinner. It’s very disappointing.’
‘As David said, I have an important meeting.’
‘Who with? He laughed patronizingly. ‘Some jumped–up twenty–five–year–old development exec?’
Brooke felt her cheeks run hot.
Robert walked closer to her. ‘Brooke. I know you want to be good at something. It’s human nature. My wife, she likes to place. She seats the best dinner–party tables of anyone in New York City. She doesn’t have to be good at anything, of course. She has a chef to make our food, maids and decorators to look after the house, but her placements are very important to her and they do serve a very important role in our household. Our dinner parties are excellent. What she is good at serves us both.’
‘What are you trying to say, Robert?’
‘David doesn’t need a career girl, Brooke. Look pretty. Be on as many best–dressed lists as you like. But know what your place is in the partnership.’
‘I thought I was entering into a marriage, not a partnership.’
‘David needs the right kind of wife, Brooke.’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s the twenty–first century. People marry for love not usefulness,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light.
‘I think that’s a little naive to think so when the stakes are so high.’ Robert sighed, his thin lips almost disappearing as he looked thoughtfully at a row of trees.
‘David and I are happy, Robert.’
His face remained impassive. Brooke doubted that Robert cared at all for David’s happiness. Looking at him, his poor complexion, the scars coiling up his neck, the features that on the surface looked liked David’s, but were in fact bigger or smaller – larger nose, narrower eyes and lips – making the construction of his face look out of kilter somehow, must surely make it impossible for Robert not to be jealous of his younger, more blessed brother.
‘The secret of success is to know your strengths and your limitations. To have the wisdom and resolve to bide your time,’ said Robert finally. ‘Our family has produced a raft of senators, four governors, a secretary of state and an attorney general. But we haven’t had a senior–level politician in the family for two generations now. My father sacrificed the chance to make serious money, and now he wants to convert that into real power. David is this family’s golden opportunity. He is our time. We have been waiting for decades for someone with the brains and the charm to go all the way. In politics today, image is everything. David has that. Since he was a little boy he has been able to charm the birds out of the trees. He has looks, contacts, credibility, money. He has style and substance. He even has the common touch. And, after that Islamorada episode, the heroics. He might well have served in ’Nam.’
He paused and looked at Brooke more closely. ‘David has all these things, and more. But what he also needs is the right spouse. A woman who knows that her own greatest ambition is to help propel her husband as high as she can.’
Brooke looked at him, shaking her head, a knot of anger in her stomach that felt ready to explode. Despite her earlier argument with David, she felt fiercely protective of him and of their future.
‘Whose dreams are these, Robert – yours? Your father’s? David’s? Because, as far as I was aware, as his fiancé, David is very happy in television. Certainly for the short term. If he chooses to go into politics, then I will support him all the way. My career isn’t getting in the way of anything important at the moment.’
‘Of course you would say that,’ he said sneeringly. ‘You’re not a woman who understands family destiny. Responsibility. Obligations. Which is why you are a children’s book editor at a second–tier publishing house, rather than contributing to the somewhat diminishing fortunes of Asgill Cosmetics.’
She could feel tears welling behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall, not for that little shit.
‘Why do you think David chose you when he could have had anyone?’ Robert continued, taking a step towards her in the dark.
‘He loves me,’ she said quietly, her breath becoming ragged. She had an ominous sense that Robert was about to deliver a brutal blow.
‘He chose you because you are good wife material. Compliant. Not particularly driven. Prepared to give up the day job. He has known what sort of woman he has to marry since he was a boy.’
A stab of fear penetrated her chest so fiercely that she could not breathe. She inhaled as if she was surfacing from deep water.
Good wife material. What did he mean? That David was not truly in love with her? That she was just the right type of woman rather than the right woman. Frantically she searched her mind for clues that David’s feelings for her were contrived or forced. Feeling her skin get cold with fear, the tears dangerously close to falling, she tried to block it out of her mind, at least until she was alone.
‘Every woman in New York wants to get married into the Billington family. Of course that privilege is reserved for a very few. Don’t blow your opportunity.’
He took another step towards her, so close that she could see their breath meet in the space between them.
‘You’re a very beautiful woman. I can see what caught David’s attention. But personally I think you’d make a better mistress than a wife.’ Robert lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. It was only the slightest gesture, but loaded with sexuality.
She jerked back as he smiled at her, his white teeth almost glowing in the dark.
‘Don’t worry, I prefer a less uptight fuck,’ he laughed, looking at her with hard, unflinching eyes.
Without thinking, she slapped him across the cheek. Robert touched the pink skin on his face and narrowed his eyes. ‘Be careful, Brooke. I can cause a lot of trouble.’
He walked off towards the house.
Yeah? Well so can I, thought Brooke. So can I.
CHAPTER THIRTY–ONE
Parklands, the Asgills’ country estate in Bedford, an elite pocket of New York State, always looked glorious; but today, on the fourth of July, it looked particularly magnificent. In preparation for the family’s Independence Day festivities, the grounds–staff had manicured the lawns to perfection. The sky was the bright blue of a robin’s egg, against which the ordered line of forest green trees along the drive looked hyper–real. Liz walked across from the stables, back towards the neogothic house and smiled to herself. She was wearing jodhpurs and a fitted hacking jacket, having just returned from a bracing five–mile ride on her horse Dancer. Her mother’s white Rolls–Royce was parked ahead of her on the gravel drive, and there were staff bustling around the grounds. It’s like being in a scene from the Great Gatsby, she thought.
She walked around the side of the house and up a short flight of marble steps, her good mood putting a bounce in her step. Lunch was about to be served on the terrace, the table decorations suitably and stylishly patriotic. Jugs of red punch stood on the white tablecloths, along with little bunches of poppies, white roses, and delphiniums. From this position, Liz could see down into the gardens, where Greg, Parklands’ young gardener, was bending over to prune a hibiscus bush. She smiled a little wider.
The French windows leading into the study were open and Liz walked into the library to find Meredith sitting at the mahogany desk, leafing through a sheaf of papers.
‘Ah Liz, there you are,’ she said, peering over the top of her half–moon glasses. ‘I was just looking through these press cuttings that Tess Garrett gave me yesterday. I have to say she’s doing a very impressive job.’
‘Do you think?’ said Liz sceptically, sitting in an armchair and stretching her long legs in front of her. Thinking of Tess made her uncomfortable, recalling as it did that sordid Russ Ford episode, but Liz was confident that Tess had kept it from her mother; otherwise she’d have heard about it long before now.
Meredith he
ld up the cuttings file. ‘Yes, we had the lovely Vogue cover for Brooke, plus some excellent news stories: Brooke and David at a soup kitchen in Central Park, looking so in love. You know, I had my doubts about this photographer friend of Tess’s taking covert photographs of them, but it seems to be working. Then there’s a Forbes magazine article about William, and even something in the Wall Street Journal describing Sean as a philanthropist,’ she laughed. ‘Can you believe it?’
Her mother’s delight at Tess’s work annoyed Liz, but she waited patiently: surely Meredith would comment on the volumes of positive press that Skin Plus had received? She looked expectantly at her mother, her eyebrows raised. Meredith said nothing.
‘Are you going to get ready for lunch?’ she said finally. ‘I’m so glad you’ve brought Rav. He seems a very smart young man. Where in the world did you say he was from again?’
‘He’s American, Mum.’
‘Hmm … ’
Meredith averted her eyes. Liz didn’t like to guess what she was alluding to. Was there a hint of casual racism in her enquiries? Did Rav’s Indian heritage not fit in with her WASP ideal or the narrow–minded attitudes of her ageing Upper East Side friends?
I’m not seeking your approval, thought Liz. She was actually glad that her invitation of Rav to their fourth of July luncheon had provoked a reaction. She liked Rav. He was sociable, generous, well connected, and a good fuck. What more did anyone need from a man?
‘So did you see that Time put me in the Top Forty under Forty?’ asked Liz casually, wondering if Tess had managed to include that feature in the file of cuttings.
‘Yes, I heard,’ smiled Meredith, lifting a blonde brow. ‘I’m not surprised, of course. The Skin Plus launch is one of the most exciting I’ve seen in all my time in the industry.’
Was that a compliment? thought Liz, narrowing her eyes to view her mother. She almost believed it was.
The library door creaked open and in walked William in chinos and a white shirt, holding a glass of red punch.
‘Just wondered if you were coming through for lunch?’ he asked, catching Liz’s frown. ‘I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?’
‘No, no, we’re coming,’ said Meredith, rising to her feet. ‘We were just discussing Skin Plus.’
William looked at his mother and then Liz. ‘So you’ve told her?’
Meredith looked momentarily flustered and reached for the door–handle. ‘Let’s eat first, shall we?’
Liz stepped forward and put her hand on the door. ‘Have I been told what, exactly?’ she asked.
‘Not now, darling,’ said Meredith quickly. ‘We’re wanted on the terrace. I can smell the ham from here and you know Dolly cooks such a wonderful fourth of July ham.’
Liz pushed the door closed and turned to face them, her mouth set. ‘What do you two have to tell me?’ she asked more forcefully, a sensation of fear punching her in the chest.
‘Liz, please. It’s a holiday.’
Liz turned to William, who seemed to shrink as she looked at him. ‘Well, then?’ she asked her brother. ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me.’
William ran his hand through his hair.
‘We thought you should know ahead of the next board meeting that we’ve decided to discontinue Vital Radiance.’
Although Liz had been prepared for the announcement, she was still shocked and surprised.
‘All those suggestions I made to salvage VR from the marketing idiots,’ said Liz, ‘I assume they have not been actioned?’
‘Mother and I think it’s best for the company if we cut our losses.’
‘This is a board decision, William,’ replied Liz. She knew of course that between them William and Meredith owned the bulk of the shares and could effectively do anything they liked.
‘Liz, the decision has been made,’ said Meredith. ‘We made mistakes and we have to accept them.’
Liz snorted. ‘Vital Radiance was a one–hundred–million–dollar launch. That’s an expensive mistake. In most companies, that would raise questions over leadership,’ she added, looking directly at William.
‘Come on, Liz,’ said Meredith. ‘We need to look forward now, not back. We have to take a long view about where the company is going, how the industry is changing, and our place within it.’
Liz caught her look over at William again. ‘Meaning …? ’
William went and sat on the chaise longue by the window. ‘Liz, we have tried to turn the company around and we’ve had some successes. But the fact of the matter is that five years ago we had sales of almost a billion dollars. Today it is four hundred million dollars.’
‘I know the figures,’ she snapped.
William stood up again and began pacing around the room as Meredith began to speak. Liz felt as if they were trying to assault her on both sides.
‘In which case, you don’t need me to remind you that the company is saddled with debt,’ said Meredith. ‘Skin Plus has cost us a fortune to launch. For longer–term growth we need liquidity. And the best way to obtain that is to sell a share in the company.’
‘How much of a share?’ said Liz, the sinking feeling growing in her stomach. ‘How much?’ she shouted.
William and Meredith kept silent, but they didn’t need to speak. Liz knew exactly how much. A majority share. These idiots were going to lose control of the family company rather than admit their failures. Rather than hand the reins to her, let her turn the company around, they preferred to roll over and die.
‘Bruno Harris has been sniffing around for a long time,’ said William. ‘I think we should talk to him.’ Bruno Harris was a prominent Manhattan corporate raider. His investment vehicle, Canopus Capital, was known for buying up ailing companies, breaking them up, then selling them on for profit.
‘Harris knows Asgill is a strong brand name and that the perfume division is doing well. He told me he thinks The Balm can be converted into a multi–billion–dollar brand like Olay Beauty Fluid. I am going to propose at the board meeting that we enter into negotiations for a majority sale.’
Liz did a quick calculation in her head. Traditionally, sales of cosmetics companies were one to two times the amount of sales turnover. Liz estimated it would be nearer one rather than two, as Asgill’s was a fading, debt–laden company and someone like Harris would take advantage of that. If the family sold a fifty–one per cent, share, it would realize around two hundred million dollars, putting her share at only ten million bucks. She could barely buy a Hamptons beach house with that! Struggling to contain her anger, Liz turned to her mother.
‘We are a family company,’ she said in a low voice, ‘and it should stay in the family, growing for the next generation. There are ways to do that.’
Meredith shook her head sadly. ‘Of course it’s a family company, Liz, and no one is more ambitious for this family,’ she said. ‘When William says majority sale, what we are talking about is more of a regroup.’
Liz felt unnerved by that use of the word we. What had she and William been cooking up?
‘A regroup?’
‘We both feel that Skin Plus has enormous potential.’
Liz’s eyes widened. She looked at them both disbelievingly. This wasn’t happening. They couldn’t be serious? Were they really talking about hijacking her business?
‘We want to spin off the Skin Plus business,’ explained William, avoiding her furious gaze. ‘Harris doesn’t particularly want it anyway, and if it’s included in the deal, it will push the price too high. So our plan is to sell him the rest of the business and use the capital to expand Skin Plus aggressively. We’re talking international growth within twelve months; it can be our platform for a more modern, more up–market family company.’
Liz was so shocked by the turn of events that she couldn’t speak. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Undettered, William ploughed on.
‘The cosmetics industry is not a one–size–fits–all business any more, Liz. Properly targeted niche brands are the future,’ he sa
id, as if she might actually believe this had been his plan all along. His cowardice and weakness made Liz want to vomit.
‘Just think of it,’ he said with excitement. ‘We could go on a shopping spree to acquire more niche, up–market brands. Brands that would be a strategic fit with our new identity. We could do licensing deals with fashion houses and really reach out to the Chinese and Indian markets.’
But Skin Plus is mine, Liz felt like yelling. I created this and now you’re claiming it for your own, to save your ass.
‘It’s the perfect time to be repositioning ourselves as a more up–market proposition,’ said Meredith, looking brighter now their plot was out. ‘Brooke’s wedding is millions of dollars’ worth of free advertising for the company.’
Liz looked out of the window, her mind reeling. Greg the gardener had now taken his shirt off, but his bare chest didn’t even register on her consciousness.
‘What’s wrong, Elizabeth?’ asked Meredith, unnerved by her daughter’s silence. ‘Don’t you agree?’
Finally Liz could hold it in no more. ‘Of course I agree!’ she spat. ‘This is my strategy; I am the one who created the Asgill luxury brand. I built Skin Plus up from nothing and now you are proposing to take it away from me to cover up his screw–ups?’ she yelled, gesturing contemptuously at William.
‘Elizabeth, this is a family company,’ said Meredith.
‘And I am the only one in this family with a successful track record,’ shouted Liz. ‘I have spent the last ten years using my talents to prop up this company and now I am the one made to suffer!’
Meredith flashed her a warning glance. ‘Be careful, Liz,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t do or say anything foolish.’
Liz glared at her mother. Oh, I haven’t even started, she thought. You will pay for this; you will both pay.
Her fury hadn’t blunted her instincts, however, and she was a shrewd enough businesswoman to know that confrontation was not the best option when dealing with a stubborn, short–sighted enemy. And without a doubt, her family had just become her enemies. As she saw it, she was left with no choice, for one simple reason. Meredith and William’s plan had completely failed to address the true problem: them. The strategy of selling off the outdated part of the company and using the proceeds to create a more modern, forward–looking business was actually quite sound. But the reason Skin Plus had worked was not because it was a niche brand or a luxury label: it had succeeded because of her, Liz Asgill; her vision, her hard work and her talent. Her mother clearly intended to create a brand–new, repositioned Asgill company, with the old management still in place. That was her mother’s fatal flaw. She simply didn’t know her children. Despite his repeated failures and ineffectual leadership, she still thought William was capable of running the company. And me? You really have no idea what I am capable of, do you? thought Liz, staring at her mother. You really have no idea.
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