‘I know parts of the business have problems. I’m not going to pretend they don’t. But I’m asking you to look deeper and learn about how we work before you make an irrational decision.’
‘Irrational?’ Brows raised with incredulity, Damon leaned forwards in his chair. ‘You think I make irrational decisions?’
‘Normally, no. But in this case—’ she breathed slowly ‘—yes. I think you’re so angry with my father, and you feel so helpless about your sister, you were willing to do anything that might give you back some element of control. And as for the way you feel about me—you haven’t forgotten I’m the reason your sister was permanently excluded from school at fourteen. I really messed that up, I admit it, but don’t use something I did ten years ago to punish the staff. That wouldn’t be fair.’
Damon sat still, forced to acknowledge that there was at least a partial truth in her accusation. Had he been unfair to judge her on something that had happened when she was still young? ‘Go and settle the staff in downstairs.’ His tone was rougher than he’d intended. ‘I’ll call you if I have any questions.’
An hour later he had more questions than he had answers. Exasperated, he hit a button on his phone and summoned his finance director. ‘Ellen, can you come in here?’ His eyes still fixed on his computer screen, he drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. ‘And bring the salary details for the Prince people. There’s something wrong with the numbers.’
Moments later he was staring at another set of figures that still didn’t make sense. Trying to unravel the puzzle, he stood up abruptly. ‘According to this information, all of these people took a salary cut six months ago. And his daughter has barely been paid a living wage for the past two years.’
‘I know. I’ve been going over the figures too.’ Ellen spread the summary pages over his desk. ‘The company is barely afloat. It’s a small agency with the overheads of a big agency.’
‘But the board are primarily responsible for those overheads.’ Polly Prince had been right in her assessment, he thought grimly. The board had been sucking the company dry. First-class flights. Elaborate lunches. Thousand-pound bottles of vintage wine… The list went on and on.
‘They’re in serious financial trouble. They’ve been hit by the economic downturn but made no compensatory moves. Peter Prince badly needed to trim staff. Instead they appear to have agreed to take a cut rather than allow anyone to be laid off.’ Ellen adjusted her glasses. ‘The business is a mess of course, but you knew that when you bought it. On the plus side they have some surprisingly good accounts and somehow they’ve just won a major piece of business with the French company Santenne. Their leading brand is High Kick Hosiery. That’s going to be huge. Didn’t our people pitch for that?’
‘Yes.’ The news that they’d lost out to Prince Advertising did nothing to improve Damon’s mood. ‘So how did Prince win it? They’re the most shambolic operation I’ve ever encountered.’
‘That’s true. Financially and structurally they’re a disaster. Creatively—well, I assume you’ve seen this?’ A strange light in her eyes, his finance director handed him a folder she’d brought with her.
‘I haven’t seen anything.’
‘But you always research companies so carefully.’
‘Well this time I didn’t.’ His tone was irritable and Ellen looked at him calmly.
‘We’ve worked together a long time, Damon. Do you want to talk about this?’
‘No.’ Damon shook his head and lifted a hand. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘I’m guessing this has something to do with your sister.’ Her tone was sympathetic. ‘She’s lucky to have you looking out for her.’
‘I wish she felt the same way.’
‘That’s because she takes your love for granted. Which is a compliment. It means she feels secure. Trust me, I know. I have teenagers. You’ve done a good job.’
It didn’t feel that way, but the prospect of discussing it horrified him almost as much as the situation itself. ‘About this company—’
‘It’s not all bad news.’ Fortunately Ellen took the hint and changed the subject. ‘There is a creative brain at work there. You just need to harness it.’
Damon opened the file and slowly flicked through the pages. Pausing, he lifted a glossy advert featuring a teenager in a nightclub. ‘That’s clever.’
‘It’s all clever. And creative. The customer profiling is spot on. Their use of social networking is astonishingly astute. My eldest has been nagging me to buy this for months, all based on the pester power generated by their campaign.’
His interest piqued, Damon flicked through rest of the folio. ‘The creative thinking is original.’ He frowned down at the tagline under a famous brand of running shoes. ‘“Run, breathe, live.” It’s good.’ Staring at the work, he remembered Polly’s words.
‘Clients love us. We’re very creative.’
‘Their sales have quadrupled since that campaign went live. They tapped into the whole lifestyle thing. There is no doubt that Prince Advertising is a mess, but there’s at least one person in the company who is exceptional. I’d go as far as to say they’re afloat purely because of the talents of their creative director. Who is he?’
‘His name was Michael Anderson and I fired him.’ Damon was staring down at the pages in front of him. ‘And there’s no way these ideas came from him. The man didn’t have an original thought in his head.’
‘Maybe it was Prince himself?’
Just thinking of Peter Prince sent Damon’s tension levels shooting skyward. ‘He’s in his fifties and he’s notorious for abandoning the company when it suits him. From what I can gather he treats it more as a hobby than a business. This stuff is young. Fresh. Visionary.’
Ellen smiled. ‘And fun.’
Fun.
Damon thought of the skull and crossbones on Polly’s nails. The hot pink tights. The fish on the desk. The party atmosphere that hit him every time he went near the staff. ‘They certainly have an interesting work ethic.’
‘So if it wasn’t the creative director, who’s coming up with the ideas?’ Ellen gathered up the papers. ‘Thanks to their creativity they have some major pieces of business. Their billing is haphazard, their cash flow is a nightmare, but we can sort that—’ she shrugged ‘—and absorb them into our business. Just make sure we don’t lose the brain behind these campaigns. We need to find out who it is and lock them into a watertight contract. Any idea who it could be?’
‘No.’ Mentally scrolling through the people he’d met, Damon closed the file. ‘But I intend to find out immediately. And I know just the person to ask.’
By seven o’clock Polly was the only one left on her floor of the office. She’d spent the latter half of the day juggling problems and soothing frayed nerves while taking endless calls from anxious clients who had seen news of the takeover on the TV.
‘Mr
