on to the business then turnover would need to improve significantly in order to fund a substantial loan or provide cash up front to fuel her greed. The advice from his accountants spelled out the caustic truth. Firstly, he owed the Inland Revenue £150,000 for the current fiscal year. The impending tax inspection would incur approximately £9,000 in expenses and untold claw backs, and the rent on the property in Cork Street would rise from £130,000 to £155,000 next year. In addition, business rates were set to soar in the city. At the existing level of projected turnover loss, the gallery would be contemplating a drop in profits of £200,000. Then there was the tiny matter of a possible one million pound divorce settlement and as yet unconfirmed yearly maintenance figure (£100,000 had been mentioned), plus the loss of the investment in the Spanish villa. He would be left with the Chelsea apartment (heavily mortgaged) and the country house, which he had inherited from his parents. Something mighty substantial would have to be sacrificed.
His main concern was the business. If turnover continued to dive in such alarming fashion then how would he be able to sustain the restructuring of the finances, which would inevitably require loan funding of a large scale? This could be achieved, but the equity in his assets would in turn be savagely reduced, thus making the foundations on which everything was built particularly vulnerable.
And then he turned his attention to the sale of the Porter originals. Twelve of them! That prospect certainly whetted his appetite. Lauren had offered him the opportunity to market them, and if he hesitated, then undoubtedly another art dealer would step in quickly. These paintings would be highly desirable and realise big value profits, possibly as much as £750,000. He was aware of his first obligation, which was to the business. Therefore, it would be financial suicide to ignore such an opportunity, tantamount to gross negligence in his own professional integrity if he allowed this chance to pass him by. He was first in the queue, ahead of the pack. That was how he always played the game: being the predator.
He checked for Laurenâs contact number. After three aborted attempts, drawing breath and steeling himself, his fingers nervously punched in the telephone number that took him on a path to the unknown: a journey of discovery, a destination without boundaries. The warnings, however, were there. Sick Chick , Kara had said earlier. It made him wonder, and then something else crept into his brain: be careful what you wish for .
Â
***
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If Kara had been concerned at the odd antics displayed by her boss, she
was downright spooked by his initial reaction to the emails. He was too damn calm for her liking, almost undisturbed by the obsessive nature of Lauren OâNeill. What hold did she have on him? What really happened at the house? It was this same concern that justified her decision to listen in on the private telephone conversation between them. Fortunately, Michael seemed to be oblivious to her concealment just beyond the open door of his office. It was a risk she took but a risk worth taking.
This is what she heard:
âHi, itâs Michael, the good Samaritan. Howâs the head? Uh-uh. I felt awful leaving you the other afternoon. No. No. It was no problem. I thought it best to leave well alone for a few days, but, well, to be perfectly frank with you, Lauren, the emails were rather alarming. â A long pause ensured. âOK, you donât have to feel like that. No. No, of course I will help you. â Another but much longer pause, followed by a sigh from Michael. âLauren, nobody is abandoning you. No, I will not be like all the othersâ¦â He took a deep breath, changing the telephone from one ear to the other. He listened patiently. âLauren, hear me out. Calm down, please calm down. Right now you are experiencing a very
His main concern was the business. If turnover continued to dive in such alarming fashion then how would he be able to sustain the restructuring of the finances, which would inevitably require loan funding of a large scale? This could be achieved, but the equity in his assets would in turn be savagely reduced, thus making the foundations on which everything was built particularly vulnerable.
And then he turned his attention to the sale of the Porter originals. Twelve of them! That prospect certainly whetted his appetite. Lauren had offered him the opportunity to market them, and if he hesitated, then undoubtedly another art dealer would step in quickly. These paintings would be highly desirable and realise big value profits, possibly as much as £750,000. He was aware of his first obligation, which was to the business. Therefore, it would be financial suicide to ignore such an opportunity, tantamount to gross negligence in his own professional integrity if he allowed this chance to pass him by. He was first in the queue, ahead of the pack. That was how he always played the game: being the predator.
He checked for Laurenâs contact number. After three aborted attempts, drawing breath and steeling himself, his fingers nervously punched in the telephone number that took him on a path to the unknown: a journey of discovery, a destination without boundaries. The warnings, however, were there. Sick Chick , Kara had said earlier. It made him wonder, and then something else crept into his brain: be careful what you wish for .
Â
***
Â
If Kara had been concerned at the odd antics displayed by her boss, she
was downright spooked by his initial reaction to the emails. He was too damn calm for her liking, almost undisturbed by the obsessive nature of Lauren OâNeill. What hold did she have on him? What really happened at the house? It was this same concern that justified her decision to listen in on the private telephone conversation between them. Fortunately, Michael seemed to be oblivious to her concealment just beyond the open door of his office. It was a risk she took but a risk worth taking.
This is what she heard:
âHi, itâs Michael, the good Samaritan. Howâs the head? Uh-uh. I felt awful leaving you the other afternoon. No. No. It was no problem. I thought it best to leave well alone for a few days, but, well, to be perfectly frank with you, Lauren, the emails were rather alarming. â A long pause ensured. âOK, you donât have to feel like that. No. No, of course I will help you. â Another but much longer pause, followed by a sigh from Michael. âLauren, nobody is abandoning you. No, I will not be like all the othersâ¦â He took a deep breath, changing the telephone from one ear to the other. He listened patiently. âLauren, hear me out. Calm down, please calm down. Right now you are experiencing a very
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