"Elle, be reasonable, and give me the chance to explain.” I didn’t answer. “You don't get to dictate what companies I buy, where I go, or who I have to see, or do business with. Now I've asked nicely. If you insist on being childish, and refusing to see me, then you end up the loser." He was beginning to lose his temper. I flinched slightly as he began to shout down the phone. I didn't reply to him, I just cut the call, turned my phone off, and went to bed. I could go back to being strong, assertive Elle tomorrow, as that night, I needed to hide away from the world.
I lay in bed, and sobbed my heart out.
Chapter 8
There was an email from Ivan on my screen as soon as I got into work the following morning.
From: Ivan Porenski
To: Elle Reynolds
11th June 2013
Subject: Explanation
Elle
My purchase of Conde Nast was designed to stop the publication of the article that you were so concerned about. My appearance with Dascha has put paid to her attempts to smear my character, and it also keeps you out of the limelight, so puts paid to the security issues that come with being my girlfriend, and also any rumours among your colleagues that you are only with me to further your own ambitions professionally. I probably should have told you what was going on, but we were working to get the deal done quickly, so I apologise that you had to find out via the evening news.#p#分页标题#e#
I didn't appreciate your rather juvenile refusal to see me last night. I would have rather told you all this in person, rather than having to send you an email.
I have some TUPE work I need doing at Conde Nast, which I would like you to oversee. Please contact Mr Ranenkiov for further instruction on that. You have his number.
I should be available this evening, if you would like to come over to my apartment.
Regards
Ivan
I read and re-read the email several times, trying not to read tone into it. Eventually I drafted a reply. I wanted to scream LIAR at him, but restrained myself. As it was, I was insulted that he clearly thought I was stupid enough to believe a pack of lies.
From: Elle Reynolds
To: Ivan Porenski
11th June 2013
Subject: your email
Thank you for your explanation as to why I found out via the evening news that you have a long term girlfriend. As I have no desire to be a short term girlfriend, bit on the side, or dirty little secret, it does indeed ensure my safety, as I am no longer involved with you in any other way than my professional capacity.
I will contact Mr Ranenkiov this morning regarding the TUPE work.
Thank you for the invitation, which I will have to decline. In my experience, personal and professional don't mix terribly well.
I hope we can continue to work well together.
Regards
Elle Reynolds
I pressed send, and got on with some of the work for Goldings. At nine, I picked up the phone and called Mr Ranenkiov, the director of HR for Retinski. He was his usual charming self, and we arranged to meet in my office at eleven to discuss his requirements at Conde Nast. I didn't hear any more from Ivan, so tried to put it to the back of my mind, and concentrate on the task at hand.
Mr Ranenkiov arrived dead on time. He shook my hand warmly, and sat down to run through the list of requirements. I had liked him from the first time I'd met him. He was sharply intelligent, but warm and pleasant, and came over as a great communicator, able to put his requirements across in a concise, exact way.
As Conde Nast had a substantial HR department already, I would simply oversee the transition to Retinski's system. It had been estimated to take around two days, as their computer system was fairly compatible with the one used by Retinski, and their paperwork was in good order.
"Your role will be mainly observational. Making sure any questions are answered, and procedures are followed."
"That's fine, but I'm surprised by this. Surely one of your in house team would be better placed?"
"Ivan wants you to do it. I didn't ask why, although he's like a bear with a sore head today. Any idea what's upset him?"
"No idea," I dismissed, "I haven't seen him. So, when do you want me over there?"
"Can you do Monday and Tuesday next week?"
I checked my calendar, "yep, that shouldn't be a problem." I blocked those days out of my schedule, while he took a file from his briefcase.
"All the details are in here, along with some information you may need, plus the address and directions." I thanked him, and we shook hands. After he left, I studied the file, and concluding that it all seemed rather straightforward, and I wondered why on earth Ivan would pay Pearson Hardwick day rates for such a simple project. I also struggled to get my head around why Ivan would buy a publication, and a whole lifestyle brand, rather than slap an injunction on it. It really didn't make sense.