Beauty and the Boss by Lucy Gordon

Author:Lucy Gordon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

AT FIRST very little happened. There was a round of self-congratulatory speeches. Craig sat quietly, waiting for them to finish. Then, when Derham rose, he was on the alert.

Derham’s speech was carefully crafted so that the increases he was proposing were almost lost in the verbiage. But Delia, watching Craig, knew that he missed nothing.

At last Derham said, ‘Perhaps we could vote on this straight away.’

There was a rumble of agreement from the hall, but Craig broke into it, standing up and facing the platform. ‘Before we vote,’ he said in a voice pitched to carry, ‘there are a few points I think we should consider.’

Derham controlled his irritation at being held up and managed an expression of polite interest. ‘I’m sure we would all be interested in hearing your points,’ he said.

‘You’ve proposed some very large bonuses for yourselves, and particularly for Mr Leabridge,’ Craig said. ‘Do you really think the company’s recent behaviour justifies this?’

“The company’s recent performance has been excellent—’ Derham began.

‘I didn’t say performance,’ Craig interrupted him. ‘I said behaviour.’

‘Then I can’t imagine what you mean. Profits have never been better—’

‘Profits for the board and shareholders perhaps, but the men and women thrown onto the scrap heap haven’t got much to celebrate.’

There was a warning in his tone but Derham failed to heed it. ‘Regrettably, in the modern industrial age it’s been necessary to streamline, to require more work from the employees—’

‘But you don’t use employees, do you?’ Craig said dangerously. ‘You use child slaves in countries where you can’t be called to account. You’re making a fortune on the backs of infants, some as young as six, who live night and day in factories, half starving, and working a fourteen-hour day.’

Leabridge leapt to his feet. ‘That is totally false,’ he shouted. ‘A fabrication got up by a spiteful press.’

A murmur had risen in the hall, but in the face of such a categorical denial it faded. Delia had a moment of apprehension. Surely Craig couldn’t have made a mistake.

Then she looked at his face and saw in it an expression of pure delight that reassured her. By denying the charge so completely the chairman had walked right into Craig’s trap.

‘Mr Chairman,’ he said, ‘you have told a barefaced lie in front of two thousand people. And I’m going to prove it’s a lie. Your own internal documents confirm it.’

He turned so that he faced the audience, and began to reel off facts and figures, refusing to be silenced, charging on like a juggernaut in the face of protests from the platform. He named meetings, listed those present. He seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of who had said what.

Delia didn’t have to wait for him to instruct her. She could think ahead, deduce what he needed, and have the relevant file open before his signal. But she was only back-up. He had it all in his head.

A faceless young man who seemed to act as an aide to the chairman jumped to his feet. ‘Those are private company matters,’ he spluttered.

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