Prada and Prejudice (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 1) (10 page)

“So? Plenty of girls marry their bosses.”

“Fuck me! Who said anything about marriage?” Rhys glared at him. “Drop it, Ben, or I won’t come to your bloody wedding at all.”

“Just think about it,” Ben said, unfazed by Rhys’s outburst. “That’s all. You’re only inviting her to a wedding, not proposing. Now – more importantly,” he added, and leaned forward, “when can we schedule a rematch? Because I’m wiping the floor with your arse next time.”

Natalie plunked her bag on the counter and frowned. “Declined? That’s impossible. Run it through again. Must be some sort of a-a credit glitch thingy.”

The clerk handed her card back. “There’s no mistake, madam. Your credit has not only been declined, the account’s closed out.”

“Closed
out
?” Natalie knew she sounded like a demented parrot, but what was going on? “That’s impossible! I’m Natalie Dashwood. My family own Dashwood and James department stores.”

“I’m sorry,” the clerk said firmly. “Now if you’ll excuse me—” she reached out to take the cocktail dress Natalie held, ready to whisk it behind the counter “—I’ll return this to the floor.”

Natalie clutched the hanger more tightly. She’d searched everywhere for the perfect dress to wear to Caro’s wedding; the violet silk dress was divine, and she wasn’t about to let it go. “Wait! Here—” she reached in her purse and scrabbled until she found another card “—try this one.”

The clerk took it, her patience rapidly diminishing, and swiped it through the machine. She looked at Natalie with a chilly smile and handed the card back. “Declined. And closed. Sorry.” She snatched the dress.

Natalie knew she wasn’t sorry, not one bit.
The rude cow.

Caroline reappeared next to her, a look of concern etched on her face. “Is there a problem, Nat?”

“My cards have all been declined!”

“Is your credit maxed out?”

“No!” Natalie fumed. “At least…I don’t think so. Well, perhaps,” she admitted, remembering the designer dresses she’d bought for Tark’s wedding. Not to mention that Waterford chandelier… “But that’s not the problem – the accounts have been closed! On all of my cards.”

The ladies behind them in line edged away from Natalie as though she had a rare – and highly contagious – retail disease.

“Oh, Caro – this means I can’t buy your gown!” Natalie’s eyes welled with tears. “Your beautiful, perfect wedding gown—”

Caroline slipped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s OK, Natty, it’s only a dress,” she soothed. “I’ll find something off the rack, don’t worry.” She glared at the clerk. “Probably cost much less, too.”

“I’m such a numpty,” Natalie mumbled, and turned away to hide the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Everything I do turns into a disaster.”

“Nat, that’s not true!” Caroline looked at her in surprise and pulled her aside. “What makes you say such a thing?”

“It
is
true! Look at my relationship with Dominic – he cheated on me with his ex-wife, and he’s marrying her again – today! Not that I give a toss, honestly – but I
hate
being the object of everyone’s pity. My credit’s a disaster. I have no career, I can’t remember to put petrol in my car, and it’s all over the tabloids that I’m having an affair with R-Rhys Gordon—”

“Yes, I saw the article in the
Daily Mail
.”

“Even grandfather had a go at me,” Natalie went on. “He ordered me to find a job, and a ‘more suitable young man.’ Of course he meant I should get married, to some doddering old viscount, no doubt. He disapproves of my ‘bohemian lifestyle’.”

“Well, Nat, he has a point. You haven’t done much of anything since you took up with Dominic. Why is that?”

“I thought we’d get married, eventually,” Natalie said defensively. “And I liked touring with him and the boys. It was a lark! I couldn’t have done that if I’d had a job.”

“Right, so you put your life on hold for two years for that half-baked rocker,” Caro said, disapproval plain in her voice. “Oh, well, Dominic is about to become Keeley’s problem now, till death do them part.”

“I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

Caroline took her arm and drew her out of the shop. “Why would you even want to go? You’re well shed of him, Natty.”

“I know that. And I don’t
want
to go. It just hurts a bit to be excluded, that’s all. We were together for longer than two years, you know.”

It was true. They’d practically grown up together in Warwickshire. But of course, Dom was a different person then…

…a very different person.

Natalie followed her sister out the door. “I start work at Dashwood and James on Monday. I’ll be assisting Rhys.”

“Doesn’t he have a PA? That terrifying redheaded girl?”

“Yes, her name is Gemma. I’ll be helping with marketing, and things.” She bit her lip. “I’ll probably make a mess of it, like I do everything else.”

“None of that, now,” Caroline said firmly, and grabbed her hand. “What you need is an ice cream. Come on.”

When they were settled at a marble-topped table with dishes of ice cream, Natalie dug her spoon in. “Dad used to bring us here, remember?”

Caro nodded. “I was always planning my wedding. I was determined to get married in Windsor Castle, on a pink pony.”

“No, I’m sure it was a pink unicorn.” Natalie smiled. As she thought of the gown they’d just left behind at Vera Wang, her smile faded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get your dress, Caro.”

Caroline squeezed her hand. “Wanting to get that dress was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me…even if you couldn’t actually buy it.”

The sting of having her credit declined filled Natalie with renewed anger. She’d never been so embarrassed in all her life. Well, except for the humiliation she’d endured when Dominic announced his engagement to Keeley.

Nat scowled. She knew how Cinderella must’ve felt when her gown changed back into rags and nothing waited to take her home but a useless old pumpkin.

And she’d bet her granny’s knickers that Rhys Gordon was to blame.

Her mobile rang. She dug it out and glanced at the screen with a frown. Why was Rhys’s personal assistant calling her, and on a Saturday? She pressed the answer button. “Gemma?”

“Natalie? Good morning. Rhys would like a word with you in his office, right away.”

“But I’m shopping. And it’s
Saturday
.” Natalie paused, listening. “Indeed? Well, we’ll just see about that.” She tossed her mobile in her handbag and stood up. “Sorry, I’ve got to run. His lordship, Rhys Gordon, has summoned me to his office.”

“But we’re still shopping!” Caro protested. “Besides, he can’t just snap his fingers and expect you to drop everything—”

“You obviously don’t know Rhys.” Nat pressed her lips together. “I’ve no doubt he’s the one who’s closed out my accounts, the backstabbing, number-crunching prat. I can’t believe it, especially after we practically spent last Friday night together!” she finished, indignant.

Caro regarded her in alarm. “Oh, Natalie – you aren’t sleeping with him, are you? I saw those photos in the
Mail—
”

“No! We’re not sleeping together! Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Exasperated, Natalie grabbed up her bag, waved goodbye, and stormed off.

Chapter 13

Rhys pressed the intercom and scowled at his laptop screen. Losses for the past quarter were worse than he’d anticipated. Drastic measures were needed – reduced operating hours, pay freezes…and job cuts, something he’d wished to avoid.

And the fact that Natalie Dashwood was spending for England didn’t help matters.

“Gemma, send Alastair in.” He sat back in his chair and waited, tapping his pen impatiently against his thigh. When Mr. James arrived five minutes later, Rhys said without preamble, “The markdown budget figures are worse than you originally forecast. Come and look, please.”

Wordlessly Alastair came around his desk to peer at the computer screen.

“We’re losing money at a higher rate than projected. If the numbers you give me aren’t good, Mr. James,” Rhys said tightly as he tossed his pen down, “how can my decisions based on those numbers be of any bloody use?”

“It appears the planning budget was underestimated,” Alastair agreed, his heart heavy. He knew what this meant – more hours lost to number crunching, another round of apologies to Cherie, more tension between them.

“You need to update the budget, Mr. James.”

“I’ll get on it immediately.” Alastair added, “However, I’ve made plans to spend tomorrow with my wife.”

“Well, you’ll just have to cancel them, won’t you?”

Alastair’s expression hardened. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Gordon. What’s really going on here?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You seem determined to take issue with me.”

“I take issue with a good company going in the crapper. You and Sir Richard haven’t done a proper job keeping costs down and revenues up. I can’t do this alone.”

“I understand.” Alastair’s gaze was steely. “But responsibility for the state of the company’s finances doesn’t rest solely with me. This tension between us is personal on your part, Mr. Gordon.”

“Yes, it’s personal, because this is
your
bloody company. While you may not be the only one responsible for the years of mismanagement, you’re accountable all the same – just as I’m accountable for somehow turning this fucking mess around.”

“Let me remind you, I managed accounts worth millions of pounds when you were still in nappies, Mr. Gordon,” Alastair said icily. “I’m also a partner. As such, I demand respect. Remember – Sir Richard and I hired you. Not the other way round.”

Rhys leaned forward. “You hired me, yes. And in order to do my job, Mr. James, you bloody well need to do
yours
.”

“And so I shall,” Alastair returned, and tightened his jaw, “on Monday morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” he gave Rhys a curt nod “—I’m leaving for the day. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Before Rhys could form a reply, Alastair turned on his heel and left.

Rhys became aware of a disturbance just outside his office. He glanced up with a scowl to see Gemma blocking the door. No one got past her. “Just a moment, Miss Dashwood,” she protested, “you can’t just barge in—”

There was a minor tussle at the door. Natalie shoved past and stormed into his office, Gemma on her heels, both of them quivering with righteous indignation.

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” Gemma apologised. “I tried to stop her—”

He thrust his chair back and stood up. “It’s all right. Close the door on your way out, please.”

“Of course.” Gemma shot Natalie a scalding glare and left, shutting the door smartly behind her.

Natalie advanced on him. “How…dare…you.” She threw her handbag on his desk. Spreadsheets and marketing reports flew up and fluttered down to the carpet.

“How dare
I
?” Rhys demanded. “You dare to take an attitude with me, after running up bills the size of the national debt and using company credit to do it?”

“You closed my personal credit lines,” she fired back. “All of them. You can’t do that!”

“I can. I did.” Rhys leaned forward and planted his hands flat on the desk. His face was inches from hers. “It’s my job to cut costs and turn this sinking ship around. And the first step is to stop unnecessary spending. Yours, in particular. It stops here, and it stops now.”

“I’ve always had a line of company credit, and so have mum and Caro! You can’t take it away just to save a few pounds.”

“We’re talking more than a few pounds. And Lady Dashwood’s line of credit remains open, as does your sister’s. They manage their finances with restraint. You, however, do not.”

“Grandfather will hear about this!” Natalie snatched up her handbag from between Rhys’s outspread hands. “You’ll find yourself out of a job before the day is over, Mr. Gordon.”

“Go ahead.” He eyed her with contempt. “Run to Sir Richard, because you know he has a soft spot for you, and you take full advantage of it.”

She gasped, outraged. “That’s not true—”

“But this time, it won’t work. Because your grandfather not only agreed to cut off your credit—” Rhys bent down to retrieve a wayward spreadsheet from the carpet and threw it back on his desk “—it was his idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” he came around the desk, took her firmly by the arm, and propelled her towards the door “—I’ve work to do. Why don’t you run along and christen a ship?”

Natalie jerked her arm free and turned to face him. “Don’t you dare to patronise me! This isn’t over!”

“No, it isn’t.” His jaw tightened. “You’re on a budget, effective immediately. You can’t buy a box of Weetabix without my approval.”

“What? You can’t put me on a budget!” Natalie sputtered. “You’re not my bloody husband!”

“And thank God for that,” he said acidly.

“I won’t be treated like an empty-headed adolescent—”

“Then stop acting like one,” Rhys retorted, and returned to his desk.

“What about you?” she snapped. “Staying at the Connaught at the company’s expense, swanning all over town in your Jaguar, making a bloody fortune to come in here and boss me round, turning everything upside down—”

“I worked my arse off to get here.” His face was dark with anger. “I’ve worked since I was seventeen, going to school at night and working during the day, and it wasn’t easy. But it taught me responsibility, and it taught me the value of a pound. Two things you’ve yet to learn.” He scowled. “I make no apologies for who I am or how successful I’ve become, Miss Dashwood, because it’s all down to one thing. Hard fucking work.”

He snatched up a sheet of paper from the blotter and thrust it at her.

She flinched. “What’s this?”

“That,” he informed her, “is what’s known as an invoice. It lists money owed for something which one has purchased.”

“You needn’t talk down to me! I can see it’s an invoice—”

“Good. Excellent! We’ve made progress.” He strode, scowling, from his desk to the window. “Now look at the figure owed. Here’s a hint – it’s on the bottom of the page.”

Natalie looked more closely at the invoice. “Well…there’s one Missoni tank dress, one Cavalli sheath, and one Waterford chandelier, shipped to Scotland…” her voice dwindled and trailed away. “Oh. Eleven thousand pounds…that’s rather a lot, isn’t it?”