Page 96 of Pride and Privilege

“But… I mean… He’s my boss. I can’t tell him about this.”

Adjoa just gave her a flat look, and the blush on Poppy’s face was scalding.

“Something tells me,” said Adjoa dryly, “that he won’t mind.”

“Erm,” was the reply Poppy’s brain managed to conjure. With everything else going on, she and Roscoe hadn’t actually discussed just how secret their relationship was meant to be. But‘pretty damn secret while he was still officially her boss’would have been Poppy’s guess.

“Right.” She nodded, aiming for brisk professionalism. “I’ll maybe see if he has five minutes.”

She turned to go, pretending not to notice Adjoa’s amusement, just as Liz appeared in the doorway. There was something wrong with her face. It was grim. A bad news sort of face. Poppy’s stomach fell.

“Poppy,” said Liz. “We need you in George’s office. Now, please.”

Roscoe’s phone rang as he got out of the car and walked back into the BlacktonGold foyer. Elliott Carter-Hall. Great, just what he needed right now, a grilling from his family nemesis about BG’s lack of ethical everything.

He answered the call, waving for Aubrey to go ahead as he put the phone to his ear. He stepped back onto the street. “Elliott. Good afternoon.”

“This is my one and only good guy moment, so please don’t make me regret it.”

“OK…?”

“Your afternoon is about to get really shitty. I’m calling to let you know so you at least have some warning. Though knowing Joseph, he’s probably already contacted your PR people. He likes to do it just before the story drops. Gives him a sense of being not a total bastard so he can maybe get to sleep at night and dream his vicious, self-righteous little dreams.”

“Elliott… Mind telling me what you’re on about?”

“There’s a story being published in the papers tomorrow, maybe online this afternoon, about nepotism and sex-for-favours at BlacktonGold. The gist of it is that you got voted in to your role due to your father strong-arming the board. And that you’re a chip off the old nepotistic block and have been handing out jobs to your fuckbuddies. Lucky you, Roscoe. It’s your turn in the sun as cannon fodder for the chattering masses.”

Roscoe pinched his forehead, his pacing back-and-forth on the pavement outside the office taking an abrupt turn and picking up speed. “Jesus Christ. I know you hate my family, but this is fucking petty.”

“Did you not hear me? It’s not me. Not my paper. It’s barely even fucking news. I personally was coming after you about greenwashing. But everyone’s had this particular story for weeks. At leastwewere building it into a big exposé on the old boy’s network in City finance. But everyone’s been sitting on it, waiting for a slow enough news day to make it worthwhile printing. Although that’s still debatable. It’s probably only your girlfriend’s job offer that made it worth printing at all. Gives it that nice personal touch.”

Roscoe stopped pacing. “What?”

“This Poppy Fields—your EA. You know. The one you’re sleeping with. Pretty. Red hair. Brains. Ring a bell?”

“How do you—? Why is she mixed up in this?”

“Because rumour has it she’s moving to LibertyBrooks. You’ve heard of them, I presume?”

“Yes…”

“Of course you have. Given Harshini Singh, your old MBA mentor and good friend is their head fund manager. The same Harshini Singh who is the eldest sister of Vikram Singh, one of your brother Hugo’s closest friends. Is it feeling cosy, Roscoe? Are you seeing the connections? And do you see why your girlfriend—a lowly Executive Assistant slash Administrative Assistant—going to work for Harshini as a Junior Analyst might raise a few eyebrows?”

“But… It isn’t true. Poppy isn’t moving anywhere. And I haven’t spoken to Harshini in months.”

“Well, an insider at LibertyBrooks has apparently said enough to make it as good as true.”

“Noneof this is true. I haven’t been giving out jobs. My father didn’t…” He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again. “Shit. Even if my father did—”

“Look, I’m going to cut you off there before you say something I feel obliged to write down in my little notebook. Basically,Roscoe, I don’t give a fuck if it’s true or not. Don’t defend yourself to me. Get a libel lawyer if you want, but I don’t care about you or your life. I called because…” Elliott sighed. “Don’t even ask me what freak of generosity inspired this phone call. I don’t want to think about it. I’ve given you fair warning. That’s about all I can do. You’re so welcome.”

“Yeah. Fantastic.”

“It’s been a blast as always, Blackton. Let’s hope never to speak again.”

Elliott cut the call and Roscoe ran to the lifts. He needed to speak to Poppy.

“Why does George need to see me?” Poppy asked Liz as she followed the woman to George’s office. It was only a short walk, not long enough for Liz to do anything other than press her lips firmly together and say, “George will explain.”

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