His Lordships Daughter (6 page)

Steven’s face flooded with surprise for a moment or two he was silent. “Kristex!” he finally said, “The breakfast cereal people. Possibly one of the biggest orders which anyone in our profession could obtain. A four colour job and fixed demand, year in year out. For ever and ever, Amen!” he shook his head. “Big! Big! Mega Big. How do you know about such things?”

she
smiled mysteriously. “I just asked if you would like the
contract.
”

He frowned and fiddled with his glass
. “Who are you, really,
. You’re not a cleaner, y
ou’re not a trouble-shooter, and
don’t even belong in my company. So, who are you?”

“I answered a job vacancy with I obtained from an employment agency. That’s who I am, Mister Grant. Just an employee.” She frowned, causing Steven to back pedal. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry, but you still haven’t picked your salary up.”

“I know, but I’ve been pretty busy since my promotion.” She rummaged in her handbag
, bought out a small sheet of paper with writing on it and handed it to him. “You asked for my address.”

Steven took the paper and glanced at the writing. “Some address! Eh!”

“
Now
perhaps you will stop complaining.”

He sighed. “I’d still like to know who Phyllipa Gore is?” he grumbled.

“Why?”

Noticing the slight hostility returning, he put both han
ds in the air in surrender. “
O
k
tell me to mind my own business, but you interest me.”

“Mind your own bu
siness!”
.

He chuckled. “But you still interest me.”

“Employer, employee sort of thing?”

“If it
was that sort of thing.” He
retorted, tartly. “We’d have stayed in the office.

“Alright, I apologise.” She said, hurriedly. “Now, we were discussing “Kristex” and I’ll repeat the question. Do you want the contract or not?”

“It is one of the most sought after contracts in the country. Everyone in my business would like a chance at that order.”

Phyllipa shook her head, tiredly “Oh dear! I’m not asking everyone in your business, Steven. Follow my sound. I’m asking you,
do
you want it?”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Of course I do.” He answered, softly
. “But with all due respect, I don’t think you have a snowball in hell’s chance of getting it. But it was nice of you to think of the company. I like that. I like all my employees to be bread and butter minded.” He sipped his drink.

Phyllipa bit her lip in frustration. She was not used to being disbelieved, but she couldn’t blame him for not taking her seriously where business was
concerned, as he didn’t know who she was. He didn’t know that Michael Renton, the chairman of Kristex was a family friend and that she was having lunch with him the following day. After all, Steven didn’t know anything about her. He said he was really interested in
whom
she really was, but that may just be inquisitiveness.

Her train of thought was broken by the waiter placing food on the table whilst another poured the wine, and she smiled at her companion who, for the past minute or so had wondered where she’d gone.

“Welcome back!” he joked.

“I’m starving!” ignoring his remark, she tasted the mackerel.

“Well?” he
asked, apprehensively. “What do you think?”

She looked up at the ceiling whilst she appraised the contents in her mouth. “I think they have an affinity with things which swim in the sea.” She finally agreed. They both laughed as they got on with their meal. The food went with the décor and the service. It was excellent and the house claret was very approachable, even with the fish.

Steven watched her as she finished everything that was placed in front of her.

“I’ve got a good healthy appetite.” She confessed, noticing his concern.

“We could go on to a night club?” he hazarded, writing out a cheque and handing it to the waiter.

“No, thank you
.” Phyllipa declined his invitation. She would have liked to have said that she strongly fancied jumping into bed with him or even seducing him in the
back of the car, but
didn’t.
It
may jeopardize her position within the firm and her lately acquired business sense was telling that a one stand wasn’t worth her grandma’s necklace. “I enjoyed the meal.” She stood up as the waiter, acting swiftly, removed her chair.

“Perhaps we can do it again?” Steven hazarded, looking at her, hopefully.

“Perhaps.”

They walked by the flower beds once more, where the evening air was heavy with the fragrance of night scented blooms. A late pigeon, his white tail feathers flashing in the half light, rattled and shot off through the bushes. It was a lovely evening and Phyllipa felt happy, pushing her arm through her companions as they walked to his car.

Ten minutes later she was standing by her Aston Martin and opening her car door, extending a polite hand to her boss who kissed it in a Gallic fashion, then clicking his heels together, performed one of the worst bows that she had ever seen in her life
. “Bravo!” she shouted.

Laughing out loud, she pulled his face towards her and probed his mouth with her tongue, then was in her car pulling away, leaving Steve
n him
there with a bemused look on his face.

Pressing a button to lower the driving window, she stuck her
hand out and waved, gradually
pressing
her foot on the accelerator she was gone. She pu
lled over.
Before joining the motorway
picking
up her car pho
ne and rang
David. “I need you tonight. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.” Replacing the receiver she wriggled her body sensuously, ramming her buttocks hard into the leather seat, squealing with delight at the thought of things to come. Then smiling happily she concentrated on her driving.

Chapter 6

Phyllipa was in the works early, reckoning that she could learn more about the shop floor before the staff arrived than she could when they were all there.

First she watered the plants in her office, then sitting at her desk, thumbed through the list of contacts which the company were currently working on. Studying them she finally nodded her head in satisfaction. Due to her cajoling, threatening wheedling and just plain asking, most of them were on schedule.

She liked the job. From morning until lunchtime it was all go, stretching her intelligence, and she liked the feel of it.

As Steven had told her on her very first day with the company, the staff were a likeable lot. There had only been one incident, but she had handled it with
a brand of what she called her Gore diplomacy, but in reality was a first line attack. No-one, least of all, Phyllipa, could explain why she had such a temperamental disposition, but her lineage did go back a long way, and good and bad blood had splashed and mixed through her family tree. Perhaps it was history, laughing and chuckling, equipping the latest Inchcape-Gore with survival gear for the twenty first century, or perhaps it was her forebears regrouping and pushing their fighting spirit into the future.

But, whatever it was it worked. Phyllipa’s fury was her strength! It was the equivalent of punching first then asking questions later.

“I’ve got these two tickets!” the eighteen year old Hank, a machine minder, had said. Po
pping his h
ead around her office door. “For this bash down at the town hall, tonight!” he flicked his hand through his mop of curly hair, and waited.

“So?” Phyllipa asked.

“Well, I thought you and I would give it a go.” He ventured, full of himself. “I know girls who would give their right arm for one these tickets.”

“Really!”

“And they would probably give their other arm just to go with me.” He eyed her up and down, liking what he saw. “But, I’ve chosen you because I know you fancy me.”

Phyllipa remained silent.

His eyes flickered “See you at half seven then!”

“Thank you but no.”

Hank bristled “No, what?”

“N.   O.” Phyllipa spelled it out. “No!
But
thank you for thinking of me” she said sweetly.

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been watching you with your upper class accent and your designer clothes. You think you’re a
cut abo
ve us, don’t you?”

Phyllipa nodded, deciding to humour him, a warning gleam entered her eye. “Of course I do.”

Hank bit his lip. Things weren’t quite going as he intended. “You’ll enjoy it.” He said having another go. “I could pick you up, I’ve got wheels. Afterwards it would be back to my place. So, what do you say?”

She
grinn
ed, an innocent expression on her face. “What would we do at your place?”

He shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “You know? What comes naturally. I don’t have to spell it out, do
I
?”

“You do with me!” Phyllipa got to her feet, and slammed the door shut. Slowly taking her jacket off, she pushed the zip down on her skirt and stepped out of it. Then unbuttoning her blouse, allowed her bare breasts to tumble from their prison as she
spread her legs and looked at h
ank. His face had turned a deep crimson as he swallowed nervously. “Look, Ms Gore” He said, putting both hands out in surrender. “I think I’ve probably made a mistake.” Quickly he turned to go out the door, but he never made it. Phyllipa leaped at him, her fingers scrabbling around his flies until they found what she was feeling for. “Go on then.” She shouted, her eyes blazing, as she squeezed his testicles, causing him to blink his eyes in some pain. “Why wait until night. Give it to me now. That is what you are after, isn’t it?”

Hank looked around him, gasping for breath, trying to tug the door open as Phyllipa pulled harder on his manhood. “No!” he screamed “It was just a bit of fun, that’s all.” His hand pointed to the print floor.
“The lads bet me I wouldn’t have the bottle to ask you out. That’s all! For Christ’s sake, let go! You’re killing me.” Phyllipa gave it another heave, and was delighted when it started swelling, then she released it, her eyes still flashing danger signals. “Listen and learn.” She cried. “I chose the men in my life. No man chooses me! Have you got it?”

Hank nodded hurriedly as he scrambled for the door. “I’ve got it Ms Gore. Don’t worry I’ve got it!” he cried, massaging his crotch as he disappeared.

Phyllipa picked up her clothing and slowly dressed, then sitting behind her desk burst out laughing. And that was the end of it!

Half an hour later, Hank popped back in again and plonked a cup of
hot coffee
on her desk, it was his way of apologising.

She had received a few wolf whistles now and then from some of the older members of the workforce, but, by and large, everyone treated her as a workmate even though a few eyebrows had gone up
when she had taken over the empty office and filled it with comfort, but there was back-ground feeling which thought she may be good for the company, plus the canteen gossip had produced some weird and wonderful stories as to who she really was.

She was looking through some old files when Steven walked in and greeted her. “Morning! Looking for something?”

Phyllipa shook her head. “No!
Nothing
definite… I’m just going through these old customer files which we don’t appear to trade with anymore” her voice sounded reproachful. “Upset them, did you?”

The MD looked at his new trouble-shooter “Phyllipa.” He started to say
but Phyllipa hushed him “It’s
M
s
Gore in the works if you don’t mind.”

He stared at her, trying to read her wide intelligent face b
ut it was impassive. “Sorry…! Ms
Gore you are employed within this company to chase up work w
hich is already going through.
have sales reps out on the road bringing new work in. that is their job.”

“The job you gave me takes me exactly four hours of my time each day.” She protested. “So I would consider it a dereliction of duty if I didn’t fill the rest of my time in to this company’s advantage.” She wasn’t being facetious she was deadly serious, having no idea whatsoever of how manufacturing companies worked. After all, her family lacked a yardstick to guide her by. But, she did have an inbuilt business acumen harnessed to a high-rise intelligence enabling her to absorb the obvious.

Steven shook his head, sat down and looked at her. What could he do with an employee like Phyllipa? “In this company.” He explained, carefully “We have different people to do different jobs. That is the way a company like us operates. Right?”

Phyllipa closed the files in front of her and nodded “If you say so Mister Grant.”

“Where would we be if everyone did a hundred different jobs?”