Zac Morecambe-Cheney stretched out his arms in the back of his father’s Bentley.
“Round the block again, Robert,” he instructed his driver through a yawn. He still had another fifteen minutes before his meeting with Falcon and didn’t fancy spending it waiting in the lobby like some eager and anxious wannabe. As far as he was concerned, Zac was holding all the cards; they could wait for him.
He knew Skilld was a bold and exciting concept, and he didn’t doubt at all that he’d secure investment, but the meeting with Genesis had gone better than even he could have expected. He liked the team; they’d rolled out the best. Director after director, all of them falling over themselves to gush about his idea. The proposal was good; he’d get the investment he wanted, on his terms, and some hot contacts to support his growth.
There was just one thing bothering him; it was all a bit boring. But he supposed that was to be expected. It was finance after all. Zac got to do the exciting bit; the business creation, the development, live the start-up life, live the dream. The investors would bring solid cash to the table. It’s probably a good thing there were no surprises, he thought to himself. It’s not good to have too many surprises when it comes to money. Not that he’d ever suffered in that department.
Zac had been born into one of the richest families in England. His grandfather and great-grandfather had worked in gold-mining, and his own father had followed suit taking over the family business and expanding it across China, Russia and Australia. He’d worked away from home for months, even years at a time. Zac and his sisters had rarely seen him, and when they had, there was barely a connection.
Time and distance had taken their toll; Baron Morecambe-Cheney’s children were strangers to him. The girls responded by rebelling at school and messing around with boys too early. The eldest became pregnant at fifteen and was immediately bundled off to distant relatives and not one word had been spoken of it since. Zac dealt with his father’s absence by making himself the best he could possibly be in order to win his father’s approval on the rare occasions he returned home. If he made himself good enough, bright enough, smart enough, maybe his father would stay. When that didn’t happen despite the straight As, the school awards and the glowing praise from his head teacher, Zac’s devotion to his father turned to resentment. When Zac announced, at the age of sixteen, his decision to not follow in his father’s footsteps and join the family business, that resentment was returned. Zac learned at a very early age that if he should ever want validation, he’d have to find it elsewhere.
Despite his father’s disapproval, Zac Morecambe-Cheney wasn’t refused an allowance. It wouldn’t do to have a Morecambe-Cheney struggling to make ends meet; the family had a public profile to be maintained. But while Zac wasn’t short of money, he was highly conscious of appearing to be a spoiled little rich boy funding his own enterprise; he wanted the credibility that came from City investment. He wanted to be fawned over and wooed. He wanted the press to report on his genius. He needed confirmation he was worth something.
And after that meeting with Genesis, he’d already got that. So why was he going ahead with Falcon? Theatre. He wanted the start-up circus to know he was in demand. He knew about Marcus’s background; Zac had done months of research. The one reason Falcon went on his list was because Marcus Armstrong had made it a success himself. But there was one chink in Falcon’s armour: they specialised in start-ups. They supported them through to Series B but that seemed to be it. As soon as those businesses had grown up and were making proper money, they went elsewhere. And Zac had plans. Series A, Series B… they were merely stepping stones - necessary processes to get him to where the real magic happened. Falcon might not be able to get him that far, but Genesis could.
“Round again, sir?” His driver asked as they re-approached the entrance to Falcon Investments.
Zac looked at his watch. It was five past; he was already fashionably late. “No, this is fine. I’ll go in now.”
The car pulled up at the double-yellow lined curb and put on its hazard lights.
“I’ll call when I’ve finished,” Zac said as he stepped out. “This won’t take long.”
He walked through the revolving doors into the lobby area. Fifi, one of the two receptionists, kicked Camilla, who was on the phone beside her engrossed in a call.
My God, Fifi thought, who is this man?
Zac walked towards her, tall and sturdy with lightly waxed black hair and piercing dark eyes. She thought he looked like a taller version of a young Tom Cruise. She felt her forehead moisten as he reached the desk.
“Good morning,” he smiled.
“Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” Fifi sat up straight, pushing her breasts forward and flashed her newly veneered smile at him.
“I have an appointment with Marcus Armstrong. It’s Zac Morec…”
“Morecambe-Cheney,” Fifi finished. “I know. I’ve heard all about you, um, your idea. It’s a delight to meet you. Let me call someone to escort you, Mr Morecambe-Cheney.”
“Zac, please.” Zac flashed a Hollywood smile of his own, revealing slight dimples in each cheek. He watched, amused, as Fifi blushed pink. He’d had the likes of Fifi many times before. These days he found them incredibly boring – looks could only hold his attention for so long – but he still got a kick out of flirting. He knew he was far better looking than the average man – with millions in the bank, which didn’t hurt – and enjoyed watching these young, shallow floozies swoon before his eyes.
Fifi cursed to herself as she heard the lift doors ping and out stepped Marcus’s PA.
“Mr Morecambe-Cheney, please come this way.”
“Of course,” he replied.
He didn’t ask Mrs Rod-Pelly to call him Zac, Fifi smiled to herself.
“Wish me luck!” Zac winked at Fifi then followed Janet across the lobby. Fifi grabbed Camilla’s arm to steady herself. Camilla yelped and ended her call.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Did you see that?”
“See what?” Camilla snapped, rubbing her arm.
“My future husband,” she sighed.
“Another one?” Camilla softened.
“I’m not kidding, Cam,” Fifi’s face turned serious. “That was Zac Morecambe-Cheney, the entrepreneur. I’ve never seen such a beautiful man in my life. He was perfect.”
“Well,” Camilla replied, in a tone that implied she’d heard it all before, “you’d better hope we invest in him.”
Zac looked around the offices as Janet led him towards Marcus’s boardroom. He enjoyed the silence that fell as he passed, the looks of admiration from the male workers, the batting eyes of the few women dotted across the floor. He was used to drawing attention wherever he went, and it never got old.
They neared the boardroom and Zac found himself feeling restless. He really couldn’t be bothered to run through his business plan again – his market analysis, future forecast and financial projections. He knew it off by heart and he knew it was a winning plan; Genesis had already made that clear. He didn’t want to sit through unnecessary introductions to people he’d be letting down before the day was out. He didn’t particularly want to put them through an hour of hopeful proposals, recommendations and figures.
Maybe he should just come clean; tell them he’d made his mind up and didn’t want to waste their time. Telling them face-to-face was the honourable thing to do. He cleared his throat and the door opened.
Standing at the opposite side of the table was Marcus. Zac recognised him easily; he looked the same, if not more handsome, than the photos that regularly appeared in the business sections. And he had to hand it him – an entrepreneur himself, Marcus had built Falcon from the ground up, and was still the youngest CEO in the City. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to work with him, Zac thought, with a slight but fleeting twinge of regret.
Zac then turned his smile to the woman standing next to Marcus and almost froze. There might not be a room full of directors in suits standing before him, but Marcus was clearly taking a different tack, wheeling out one of the most striking young women Zac had ever seen.
He slowly took in the simple black dress which revealed a hint of bare leg, a generous cleavage and a nipped in waist. Her shoulder length golden brown hair had been lightly curled so it bounced around her dusky cheeks as she shook his hand. But it was her eyes that marked her out. Large, saucer-like, grey eyes that shimmered like smoke; like nothing he’d ever seen before.
Zac was no stranger to beautiful women; his phone practically bulged with phone numbers, and his photo albums boasted a considerable number of compromising pictures sent by girls desperate for another evening of luxury followed by mind-blowing sex. Zac always treated his women well, often bestowing them with gifts as well as dates at the latest hot bars and restaurants. But he never promised anything more; he was too busy, and besides, his mind had to be on Skilld at the moment. Unless a woman could hold an intelligent conversation with him about database architecture or recruitment law – and he doubted there were many out there who could – he didn’t have time for them beyond a night of frivolous fun and the added bonus of being seen with only the most beautiful hanging off his arm.
“I’m afraid our team is a little depleted,” Marcus apologised. “Our VP Business Analysis is incapacitated unfortunately. But you know my background I’m sure, and Charlotte is well-versed in the specific strategies we’ve developed for you.”
“What do you do, Charlotte?”
Lottie looked back at Zac confidently. “I’m trained in financial marketing, but I’ve been seconded to oversee this project. I have a full understanding of both your financial situation and the growth potential of your business.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zac noticed Marcus flinch, ever so slightly. Lottie maintained her eye contact with Zac evenly, challenging him to press her further.
“So, tell me, where do you see Skilld in five years’ time?”
Without deferring to Marcus, Lottie motioned to Zac to take a seat and gave him her answer, confidently. “In five years Skilld will be the first choice of recruitment site for the majority of businesses – large and small – not only in the UK but in Europe too. It will be halfway through a roll out across the US and Canada and six months away from launching in Asia, following successful trials in South Korea and Japan. It will have changed the face of recruitment. In the UK alone, a six per cent increase in employment over three years will be attributed directly to Skilld.”
Zac was speechless.
“And as for you, Mr Morecambe-Cheney, you will need to make a choice. Will you want to be involved for the full five years or will you sell the majority of your shares to invest in another venture you’ve yet to create.”
“What do you mean?” Zac leaned forward.
“If our projections are correct, sir, your business will float in four or five years. You’ll be a very wealthy man; free, if you wish, to invest your brains and your billions in anything you choose.”
Lottie held her nerve. She could tell Zac was stuck for words and even Marcus looked slightly pale. But she’d been aiming for impact. She’d suspected, somehow, that Zac Morecambe-Cheney’s business was no longer on the market when he’d entered the room. The thought had struck her that perhaps all those late nights, the lack of sleep and the intense education she’d just received around financial strategy had all been a complete waste of time. She felt as though her chance had gone and she’d lost it all. So, she’d spoken as though she’d had nothing to lose.
Zac tried to keep a straight face but all he wanted to do was laugh. Was this woman for real? He toyed with the thought of taking her back to his penthouse by the river and bending her over his balcony. He’d push that silk dress up her thighs and take her from behind, letting the sound of her orgasm evaporate into the night sky. He loved everything she’d just said but couldn’t quite believe it. After all, she was a marketing exec; what did she know about taking a business public?
“That’s quite a projection, Miss …”
“Matheson,” Lottie finished.
“And I haven’t even shown you my business plan.”
“We don’t need to see it,” Lottie smiled.
What the fuck? Marcus bristled. He had to put a stop to this before she messed it all up. “What she means is, we’re absolutely confident you have an outstanding plan. But the concept has inspired us to think big.”
Lottie nodded, not taking her eyes off Zac.
“In that case,” said Zac, “let’s skip my plan and you tell me how you’re going to help Skilld achieve everything you just outlined.”
Lottie fired up her laptop and projected the short presentation she and Riya had pulled together. She talked through the deck, using live case studies, real testimonials and actual job-seeker vox-pops. It was creative, it was original, it was nothing like the reams of numbers Genesis had put in front of him. Lottie finished by playing the voice of Riya’s niece, talking about her dreams and aspirations, all the roles she wanted to play, her unlimited, boundless appetite to do everything and be everything.
“Who are we to restrict this little girl’s dreams?” Lottie asked as the clip ended. “No-one,” she answered herself. “But there is one thing that will stop her, and that’s the traditional CV. If she achieved even half the dreams she’s just talked about, her CV would be deemed messy, inconsistent, non-committal. If she does fulfil her dream of studying art at University, no business would employ her as a change consultant. But who’s to say she wouldn’t have the skills?”
Zac listened, mesmerised, and Marcus allowed her words to linger. He was fraught with conflict. His junior had just walked in here and owned the damn room. He’d been unable to get a word in edgeways, but more annoying than that, Marcus was rendered incapable of contributing anything that added any value to Lottie’s consummately polished performance. And unless he was mistaken, there was chemistry in the air, between an investment prospect and a member of his staff.
“This is the future.” Lottie continued. “It has to be. Or how can we expect the next generations to fulfil their potential – for themselves and for the world around us?”
Zac sank back into his chair. The wind had been knocked out of him, but he’d never felt more alive. This woman, this marketeer of all people, had understood his idea seemingly more than he had. She’d delicately pointed out the glaring opportunity that had been missed in his strategy but had delivered it in such a way that framed his entire business plan in pure gold. Charlotte Matheson had at once made him feel like an utter genius but one who could only truly fulfil his potential with Falcon’s help. He felt as though he’d been punched in the face with a velvet glove.
“So, Mr Morecambe-Cheney,” Marcus began, clearing his throat. “I’m sure it’s evident from our proposal that we are extremely interested in funding the next stage of your growth. But you must be aware that we would want exclusive purchase rights to the equity you’re offering; we don’t work with other VCs.”
Zac looked from Marcus to Lottie. Both were smiling, politely but determinedly.
“Do you have any questions for us?” Marcus finished.
Zac regained his breath and attempted a non-committal tone. “No, not right now. But I respect your terms and appreciate your honesty, and it’s been a real pleasure to meet you.” His eyes darted to Lottie and flickered almost imperceptibly over her face and cleavage. “Both of you.”
Lottie suppressed a blush. She hadn’t expected her words to have had such an impact. And she wasn’t stupid; she knew her looks had at least a little to do with it.
“I’ll walk you out,” Marcus said, standing up. “Janet will inform your driver.”
As the two men left the room, fear crackled in Lottie’s chest. She’d sensed that Marcus was less than pleased about her conduct – again. But what the hell was she to do? Sit back and let Zac take his business to another investor, or throw everything she had at the presentation? Lottie gripped her arms to stop herself shaking as she waited for Marcus. She heard footsteps nearing the doorway and looked up, anxiously. His face was thunder as he closed the door and drew the blinds tightly.
“What … the fuck … was that?”
Lottie’s fingers made white dents in her arms as she gripped them even more tightly.
“I have never, never, been spoken over like that before in this business.”
“Spoken over? But I didn’t …”
“Don’t fucking argue with me.”
Lottie didn’t argue but the injustice of his anger infuriated her.
“You’re a fucking junior, do you understand?”
Lottie nodded.
“Why don’t you start behaving like one?”
“We’d have been dropped from the race if I hadn’t said everything I did,” Lottie snapped. “You must know that.” Her eyes dropped to his hands and she noticed they were clenched and shaking.
“Are you trying to say I couldn’t have handled that without you?” Marcus growled, barely able to contain himself.
“No!” Lottie replied. “What did I do that was so fundamentally wrong? Was it that I had an opinion? That I didn’t repeatedly defer to you? Why did you want me in the meeting? So I would just sit there and let you do all the talking?”
She knew she was entering dangerous territory, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d had a lifetime of defending herself and wasn’t about to stop now.
Marcus had walked right up to her and was standing inches away, the heat from his chest bearing down on her shoulders. “Do you remember our last conversation, Miss Matheson?” He said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Yes,” she replied, lifting her eyes to his, defiantly. “I’ve thought of very little else.”
Marcus hesitated as though trying to gauge some meaning from her admission.
“He’d decided on another investor,” Lottie continued. “I thought I’d have nothing to lose if I laid on the drama. I wanted to paint him a picture he couldn’t say no to.”
Marcus stepped back, his breath slowing. Lottie held his gaze. “I acted on instinct. After all the work I’ve put in to this – after the promise I’d made to you – I just wanted this to work, so badly.”
Marcus’s shoulders relaxed; as angry as he was, he couldn’t put this off any longer. “Well, he’s chosen Falcon.”
Lottie was stunned into silence.
“Everything you said to him, it worked. He wants us to invest. No-one else.”
Lottie’s heart was beating so forcefully she could feel it against her ribcage. “But … but, when?”
“Just now, as he left. Zac told me he’s made his decision and he wants Falcon to invest.”
“I don’t believe it!” She gasped. Relief coursed through her veins and without thinking, Lottie flung her arms around Marcus’s neck. Marcus stiffened and, realising the enormity of her mistake, Lottie pulled her arms back, quickly. But Marcus held her fast against him, his hands around her small waist, just for a second or two, then released her. Lottie stepped backwards and looked up, her face flushed from embarrassment. What just happened?
“Congratulations,” he said, taking a step towards the door. “You did a good job.”
“Thank you,” Lottie replied, then realised with a sinking heart he was showing her out.
“Since you’ll be leading the marketing on this project, you’ll be promoted to Account Manager,” he said without looking at her.
Lottie’s hands flew up to her face. “Oh my God! That’s amazing. Thank you.”
Marcus opened the door and turned to face her, his expression impassive. “Charlotte,” he said, as she stepped past him to leave his office, “I want you to report into me on this now, not Carmel.”
Lottie nodded, too afraid to say anything in case she messed all this up.
“And Charlotte,” Lottie felt his large hand touch her elbow and pull her back. “If you thought I was demanding before this …” She felt his warm breath against her cheek. “You can think again. My standards just went up.”
Before Lottie had a chance to question what he meant – not that she needed to, it was crystal clear – Marcus let go of her arm and pushed the door closed behind her.