Hold the Dream by Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘She listened to us both so attentively,’ Ross exploded. ‘She asked for our advice, seemed to be taking it. Not only that, she insisted on knowing who the prospective buyer was, and against my better judgement I told her!’ Ross groaned. ‘Oh Jesus, what a fool I’ve been! I should never have arranged those meetings between her, Milt Jackson and us.’ The banker reached for a cigarette and lit it nervously. ‘Milt thinks Sitex is in the bag. Jesus Christ, he’s going to be convinced I misled him, or that I’ve suddenly developed flawed judgement, in the prime of my life. We’ve got to come up with a plausible story to tell him.’
‘I repeat what I just said, we have to tell him the truth, explain that she misled us. He’ll have to accept it, there’s nothing else he can do,’ Dale insisted.
Ross drew on his cigarette and then stubbed it out. He rose, walked around his desk and began to pace up and down, his hands behind his back as he contemplated the meeting with Milton Jackson, chairman of the board of International Petroleum, and an important client of the bank. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and fixed his eyes on Dale. ‘If this gets out we’re going to look like the biggest idiots on Wall Street. Two grown men, seasoned businessmen, shrewd, tough and hard assed, taken by a slip of a girl.’ He ran his hand through his blondish hair and grimaced with disgust at himself and Dale. ‘Talk about Emma Harte. Paula Fairley puts her to shame. The doubledealing little wretch. I would never have believed it of her. I really thought she was taking our guidance.’
‘I had my doubts about that on several occasions,’ Dale remarked dryly. ‘And then I admit I began to readjust my thinking about her, particularly in view of the events over the past year. There was Emma’s death, that knocked her for a loop, and then she lost her Daddy and her husband. She was in shock. You witnessed her state with your own eyes. So there she was, all alone, and suddenly I believed it would be a cinch. I genuinely thought she would unload the stock. She indicated she’d be happy to do that, would be relieved to get out of the oil rat race. What a foul up.’
Ross said in a rush, ‘I’m going to tell Milt that she did in fact renege. To hell with it. Guys renege on deals every day in the street and in the oil business. Why should a woman be any different. More likely to change her mind in my opinion. I can’t afford to lose Milt Jackson as a client of this bank, or International Petroleum as a corporate account.’
‘Okay,’ Dale concurred. ‘Basically he’s your baby anyway. I don’t owe him an explanation.’ The oil man brought out a cigar, fiddled with the end, finally struck a match and brought the flame to the cigar. He said, ‘You do realize my hands were tied at the board meeting, don’t you, Ross? There was nothing I could do.’
‘Sure, sure,’ Ross mumbled and returned to his chair. ‘Tell me exactly what happened on Tuesday.’
‘Be happy to, Ross. Paula arrived looking like a demure little nun, wearing a black dress with a white collar and cuffs. She was unusually pale, even for her, and it gave her a waif-like look. She had a sort of innocence about her.’
‘Save me the description, God damn it! I’m interested in what she said, not how she looked.’
‘Her appearance is important,’ Dale replied. Paula had played her role very well. He had realized, as he had sat in the Sitex board room in Odessa, that there was something of the actress in her. ‘Don’t you understand, Ross, she looked like a little girl, easy to handle, and some of those old buzzards on the board, who don’t know her very well – why they were rubbing their hands with glee. Metaphorically speaking, that is. Yes, Marriott Watson’s cronies thought they were going to eat her alive.’
‘As we did,’ Ross muttered softly.
Dale smiled faintly. ‘We weren’t the only guys who were fooled, Ross, take comfort in that, cold as it is. Before we got down to general business, the North Sea oil situation and the renewal of my contract, Paula asked to make a statement to the board. Naturally, Marriott Watson had no choice but to agree. She said that it was her duty to inform her fellow board members that she was about to sell her mother’s stock. The entire block – the entire forty per cent of it. Everyone was taken aback, and that was when Jason Emerson piped up.’
Ross nodded. ‘He’s still sharp, smart as hell, despite his great age.’
Dale agreed. ‘Tough old wild catters like Jason don’t change, not in my experience. I sat back, enjoying every minute, thinking it was going our way. It was only later that I began to realize Paula had made good use of the week she had spent in Texas, prior to the board meeting. She had done a lot of lobbying, entertained a number of the directors socially. Especially Jason. He was primed by her, no doubt in my mind about that. Still, he was close to Paul McGill in the thirties, and had remained loyal to Emma for forty years.’
‘I know about that,’ Ross snapped.
‘Jason Emerson asked Paula who she was selling the stock to, and when she intended to sell. She told him, very sweetly, that she was selling all forty per cent to International Petroleum. Immediately. I thought that some of the board members were going to have a collective coronary. Holy hell broke loose. I said nothing, pleased at the way she had handled herself. There was a lot of heated talk about International Petroleum and Milt. It’s no secret in the oil business that he has that company on a growth and expansion programme and that once he gets a foothold in a company he does his damnedest to swoop down and take it over. Also, certain board members seemed to be aware that Milt has been buying up Sitex’s common stock, and that he now holds an enormous amount of it. Only a dunce could fail to miss the implications.’
‘If I’m following the script correctly, as I think I am, presumably Jason spoke up again, asked her not to sell to International Petroleum.’
‘You’ve got it, old buddy.’ Dale shook his head regretfully. ‘Sure as God made little green apples, once the shouting had died down, old Jason started to persuade her to reconsider her decision. It was a bit of real craftiness, I can tell you, Ross. Before I had a chance to jump in with a few comments of my own, the majority of the board were singing his tune. Except Marriott Watson. He looked as if he was about to spit blood. I’m not certain, but he may have deduced that the tough negotiating between Paula and Jason had been set up in advance.’
‘And she capitulated of course.’
‘Not at first. She said she would reconsider not selling her block of stock, providing she was guaranteed a stronger voice on the board and if certain conditions were met. Her conditions. To be precise, the continuation of the North Sea drilling and the renewal of my contract.’
‘She blackmailed the board!’ Ross shouted.
Dale shook his head very slowly and a gleam of admiration now entered his brown eyes. ‘No, Ross, I wouldn’t call it blackmail. It was the most brilliant bit of manipulation I’ve seen in a long time. In one way I’ve got to take my hat off to her because that’s what business is all about – manipulation.’
‘That’s true,’ Ross acknowledged. ‘At least you got what you wanted, despite everything. Your contract has been renewed again and is secure for two years, Marriott Watson is temporarily muzzled and you have a free hand. But what’s your position with Paula now, Dale?’
Dale grinned. ‘My position remains the same. I’m president of Sitex Oil, she controls the stock of her mother, who is the largest single stockholder. Paula has more power on the board than she ever had. Naturally I’ll continue confiding in her as I always have. I intend to remain friendly. You never know, she still might decide to sell her stock one day. International Petroleum isn’t going anywhere.’
‘Points well taken.’ Ross laughed unexpectedly. ‘Business is business. Not every deal works out the way one would wish. There’s no point my being immature about this. The bank still handles some of her business in the States. Anyway, if I can’t succeed with her in the board room maybe I’ll get lucky – in the bedroom.’
CHAPTER 54
Paula Fairley was late.
Ross Nelson glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiec
He strolled across the antique Chinese carpet and hovered in front of the bar contained in the ebony-and-gilt Chinese chest. He poured himself another dry martini, dropped in an olive and walked to the window, looking down on to Park Avenue. His thoughts continued to dwell on Paula.
She was one of the few women he had not been able to fathom. Or coax into his bed. He had desired her for the longest time now. Since the fall of 1969 when he had first become aware of her potent sexuality. She had always managed to keep their relationship on a cool businesslike basis. At first he had believed he would win her over. Women generally fell for him. Later he had become annoyed as she continued to be uninterested. But he had kept up his battery on the telephone, constantly invited her out to dinner and bombarded her with flowers. Since he was conceited, and had enjoyed much success with women from all walks of life, Ross convinced himself that Paula would one day be his alone.
After Jim Fairley had been killed in the avalanche, Ross had played the role of a concerned good friend whenever she had been in New York. In the past nine months he had seen more of her than usual, since she had wanted to divest herself of some of Emma Harte’s holdings which she had inherited. He had been on hand to help the sorrowing widow handle her business. He had hoped to persuade her to sell the Sitex stock – and seduce her as well. Her grief and curiously distant manner had induced him to hold himself in check. He had bided his time. But he had no intention of doing so any longer. Not now, not after Skye Smith’s revelations last night.
He focused on the gossip Skye had relayed about Paula and Shane O’Neill. He had been stunned and disbelieving, had demanded to know the source. Skye had been only too ready to further confide. At the end of the evening he had walked home bridling with anger and riddled with frustration. All these months, as he had held her hand and comforted her, Paula had been sleeping with Shane O’Neill. He knew Skye had not lied. After all, Sarah Lowther, Paula’s cousin, had been the one who had spilled the beans.
He was delighted that Dale and his wife had been called back to Texas so unexpectedly. They had planned a foursome for dinner. He relished the idea of being alone with Paula tonight. His way was clear with her. Finally. At long last he was going to possess this most elusive of women.
Ross sat down on the sofa, put his martini on the Chinese coffee table and took a cigarette, suppressing the sudden grin that had begun to spread across his face. He had not told Paula that Dale and Jessica had returned to the ranch. Why alert her, give her the opportunity to cancel. But he had given his housekeeper the evening off, and telephoned the restaurant to change the reservation to ten o’clock. That would give him ample time to make his moves.
Thoughts of her slender boyish body, the voluptuous breasts, intruded, brought a sudden flush to his neck. He lifted the glass, downed the rest of the drink, and went to the bar to pour another one. It was his third. He hesitated. Oh what the hell, he muttered. I can handle my liquor. Ross prided himself on his ability to drink gallons and remain a potent lover. His glance fell on the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and he smiled confidently. After a few glasses of that, and a little of his sweet talking, Paula Fairley would be much more susceptible to his masculine appeal.
Ross Nelson had almost demolished his third martini when the intercom rang. Leaping to his feet, he rushed out into the foyer to answer it, hardly able to contain himself. He told the doorman to send Mrs Fairley up and stood waiting for her.
A few minutes later he was kissing Paula’s cool cheek, ushering her across the hall and into the living room.
She paused in the entrance and swung her head, looked up at him, her violet eyes quizzical. ‘Haven’t Jessica and Dale arrived yet?’ she asked before she moved forward.
He gazed after her, watching the fluid movement of her body, the shapely outline of her long legs through the thin silk of the pale grey cocktail dress. He almost salivated with longing. He could hardly wait to remove the dress, to strip her naked and revel in her beauty.
Paula turned to face him, catching him off guard. He blinked rapidly, hurried into the room, explained, with a nervous laugh. ‘They had to fly back at the last minute. An illness in the family.’ He stepped up to the bar, began to open the bottle of champagne. ‘Dale sends his apologies and he told me to tell you he’ll phone you tomorrow.’
‘I see,’ Paula said, seating herself on the sofa. ‘I’m disappointed they’re not having dinner with us. I did have a few more things to discuss with Dale.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘Never mind.’
‘Yes,’ Ross murmured and carried the drink over to her. Seating himself in the chair opposite, he lifted his own glass and grinned at her. ‘Well, Paula, congratulations! You’ve certainly pulled off a coup at Sitex!’
‘Cheers, Ross,’ Paula said, took a sip of the champagne and then eyed him speculatively. ‘You’re probably annoyed with me, angry that I finally decided to hold on to the Sitex stock. But – ’
‘Of course not,’ he lied blandly, wanting to keep the atmosphere cosy and totally free of conflict. ‘It was your choice. Dale and I could only advise you. We only wanted to help you, Paula. As Dale said to me at the bank this afternoon, International Petroleum is not going anywhere. I think Milton Jackson would always be interested in buying you out.’
‘I’m sure he would,’ Paula responded quietly. ‘And I do want to thank you for your concern, all of your help with the Sitex matter, and with my other American business. I’m most appreciative.’
‘My pleasure.’
Paula leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs, trying to hide her surprise at his attitude. She had expected Ross to be furious, knowing how much he valued Milton Jackson as a client of the bank. Dale, she knew, would always give her his support. But Ross Nelson was another kettle of fish. She was relieved that he was being so agreeable. He was always agreeable though, wasn’t he? She sighed, realizing she would have to spend the next few hours alone with him. There was no way she could get out of dining with him. She decided to be gracious and get through the evening as best she could.
Ross began to talk about her brother Philip, whom he had met the previous autumn when they had both been in New York. And for the next half-hour the banker kept up a steady stream of conversation about the family in general, her grandmother, and Harte Enterprises. In between, he kept refilling her glass, downed another martini and lit endless cigarettes.
At ten to nine, Paula cut him short suddenly, and asked, ‘Shouldn’t we be leaving, Ross? For the restaurant I mean?’
‘No, not just yet. I’m afraid I had problems with the reservation at Twenty-One. They couldn’t give me a table before nine-thirty, ten o’clock. We might as well relax here.’
‘Oh all right,’ Paula said, but she was irritated. She disliked eating when the evening was almost over.
As he talked, believing he was being entertaining, Ross continued to drink. He also scrutinized Paula intently, admiring her elegance and beauty. The dress she wore was simple, with a draped cowl collar and short sleeves. She wore emerald earrings and, apart from a watch, these were her only pieces of jewellery. She looked stunning and the grey silk moulded her figure in all the right places. Suddenly he was unable to keep his distance.
He rose, strolled to the bar cabinet, topped his glass and joined her on the sofa. He rested his arm on the back, and sipped his drink. His eyes held hers and he smiled a slow warm smile. ‘You’re looking exceptionally lovely tonight, Paula.’
‘Thank you, Ross.’ She returned his gaze and her brow puckered. There was something in those hazel eyes of his that instantly alerted her and she drew back slightly, pressed herself closer to the arm of the small sofa.
She felt a sense of panic.
Ross placed his glass on the coffee table and in one swift move he pulled her into
Paula continued to struggle, tried to disentangle herself from his arms, but he was a big man, and strong, and she had no chance against him. He somehow managed to pull her forward, sliding her body down the sofa into a supine position, and then he fell on top of her, working his tongue on her mouth again. She clamped her teeth shut and moved her head to one side rapidly. He ran his hand over her thigh, lifted her skirt, slid his hand underneath, stroked her upper leg and then worked his fingers against her crotch.
Paula, lying under the weight of Ross Nelson, was in a state of shock. She struggled hard to break free from his tenacious hold on her. He had leaped on her so unexpectedly, taken her totally by surprise, and only a split second after she had noticed the lust burning in his eyes. She was horrified, and revolted by him, and also terribly frightened. She knew she had to escape from him, from his apartment. Quickly. If only she could get her hands up to his face to scratch him. They were trapped under his bulk. She moved her head from side to side again, frantically avoiding his mouth without success. His hands were now ripping at her tights and dimly through the roaring in her head she heard the nylon tear as he tugged at the crotch of the tights. Oh my God. His fingers were against her skin, pushing into her as he slobbered against her face, his mouth slack and wet. Shudders rippled through her. She thought she was going to vomit. He was hurting her, trying to penetrate her with his fingers.