had buried himself in his work. He had lost a lot of weight, hardly spoke, became grim and taciturn.
Everyone had been worried about him, but a hardness in his eyes made them all afraid to say a word. Matt the charming, Matt the light-hearted had become surly and dangerous. They were scared of him for months.
Thank heavens, that harshness had slowly died away. Over the past couple of years, to their relief, he had gradually returned to his old self. He laughed again, smiled often, chatted to them all casually, was approachable again, but in the blue eyes somewhere the shadow of heartbreak remained when he did not think he was being watched.
Andrea had often seen him gazing out over the steel-grey River Thames, below his office, his face set in lines of sadness, and wished she could say or do something to lighten his mood, but was afraid to offer comfort in case he bit her head off again.
‘Good morning, everyone, thank you for being so punctual,’ he said now, taking his own chair at the head of the table, facing his executives. ‘I won’t waste your time with a long preamble. We all know why we’re here. Somebody has been buying up our shares. We’ve had a couple of near-misses in the past so we know the signs of a take-over bid. It’s obviously a serious attack. They’re spending a lot of money. I’ve asked Rod to find out everything he can. We’ll hear him first, then I’d like each of you to give me your own personal opinion on the offer, before we settle back to discuss tactics. Okay?’
‘Have they been in touch with you, Matt?’ asked Jack Rowe, his face tight with nerves.
Shaking his head, Matt said, ‘Not yet, but no doubt they soon will. I’m afraid these are big boys. Tell them who we’re up against this time, Rod.’
‘TTO,’ Rod Cadogan said.
Nobody looked surprised, Matt noted wryly. They had already heard that Tesmost Technical Operations were behind the bid, no doubt. You couldn’t keep such matters secret. Theirs was a small world. All the big international electronics firms knew each other. Several had tried to buy Hearne’s in the last two years, since it leaked out that they were working on a cheap voice-operated computer. In this business new technology was the name of the game. You had to keep launching new ideas or you died. Matt had kept his research a secret for as long as possible, not talking to anyone but his closest colleagues, but sooner or later he had had to start building the actual computer, which meant far more people getting involved in the project, and once that happened the word was out and the vultures gathered.
He had had the money to beat off all previous interest, but TTO were an enormous company with far more capital than Matt could put together. If Matt borrowed money to help him in this struggle, he would lose control of his company, anyway, to whoever lent the cash.
Bleakly, Matt wished he could work out how to defeat this bid without asking for help from anyone. But he knew he was between the devil and the deep blue sea. Maybe he should sell the house in the Essex countryside which he and Aileen had bought when they got married?
He lived in his London flat which was just the right size for a bachelor, very convenient for work, and surrounded by restaurants and shops. But his mother and his baby daughter lived in the Essex house, only an hour’s drive away so that he could visit them often. When Aileen died his mother had moved into their home to take care of Lisa and the arrangement had worked so well that it had become a routine.
Darkness veiled his eyes. Sometimes he could not believe she was gone, gone for ever. Aileen had been so full of life; he could see her now, laughing at him, the wind of the Essex coast in her hair, her eyes loving.
Salt coated his throat.
He mustn’t think of her. Stop it, he told himself. No looking back. Think about the future.
Well, if he had to sell the house he would sell his flat, too, and find somewhere big enough for his mother and the baby, too. Maybe it was time they all lived together? Having a split household like this wasn’t natural. He ought to see more of Lisa now that she was becoming a little girl, not just a baby.
‘You see, Matt, this is a well organised attack!’ he suddenly heard, and, starting, came back to the present, to look at Rod.
Matt nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Rod sighed heavily. ‘I’ve got a list of share transfers that have already been shifted by the big investors, the pension funds and companies.’ In his flat London accent Rod began to read his list out like someone reading the names of mourners at a funeral.
He paused, looked up, said grimly, ‘And in charge of organising the bid, and co-ordinating the buying in of major company shares, Bianca Milne, Forward Planning Director of TTO.’ Rod placed a large colour photo on the desk and everyone stared down at it.
Jack Rowe gave a low wolf whistle. ‘Hey, I could go for her!’
Andrea felt a quiver of envy. If only she looked like that! She would swap her own brown hair for that sleek, smooth blonde chignon any time, and as for that face… Oh, it wasn’t fair. Some women had it all.
Matt had heard of Bianca Milne, but had never actually set eyes on her. He leaned forward and picked up the photograph, his mouth twisting.
‘Not my type at all, Jack, and I’d hazard a guess you wouldn’t get anywhere with her, either. She’s the don’t-touch-me type—look at those eyes. Cold as ice.’
Andrea’s smile spread. He was so good at reading character in a glance!
‘How old is she?’ somebody asked. ‘She looks too young to be heading a take-over bid.’
‘She’s not as young as she looks,’ said Rod. ‘She’ll be thirty in a month or so, it seems.’
‘I call that young,’ Jack said gloomily. ‘Wish I was thirty next month.’
‘Married?’ Andrea asked, hopefully.
Rod shook his head. ‘No. And currently without a man. Gossip has it that her last relationship was with Lord Mistell’s son, young Harry Mistell, who worked for one of the merchant banks her company supplied with the latest electronic hardware.’
Matt’s eyes lifted to consider Rod’s face. ‘Who broke off the affair, her or him?’
‘Her. They earned millions out of that deal, and Bianca Milne handled the sale. She stopped seeing young Mistell a few weeks later.’
Matt did not look surprised. He just nodded.
‘She was dating him just to make the sale?’ Noelle said, frowning. ‘That’s horrible.’
Rod shrugged. ‘Whether she was using him, or their break-up was a coincidence, who knows? But that’s how the gossip goes. She’s been with TTO for nine years, climbed rapidly up the company. The way she looks must have helped, but apparently she’s also clever, tough and very ambitious. She has a strong power base there. There is a rumour that she has a secret affair going with Don Heston, the chief executive of the company, but again I don’t know how true that is.’ Rod paused, added softly, ‘Heston is married.’
‘And has kids,’ said Matt and Rod nodded.
‘Two, a boy and a girl in their teens. Heston is nearly fifty, but looks younger. Nobody ever sees his wife. She stays in the country with the kids—they’ve got a big house in Buckinghamshire.
