Max responded calmly. Indian English and American English were not the same thing. They’d probably have looked at him the same way. Lexi should travel with a signing interpreter as well as a regular language interpreter, just in case. No big deal.
It was exactly what Lexi needed to hear.
The sexual tension between them grew daily. Max infuriated Lexi by blowing hot and cold. It was the one element of his character that continued to perplex her. One minute she felt sure he was about to make a move. The next he switched, and started acting all brotherly toward her. Used to men dropping at her feet like flies, Lexi had no idea how to handle Max’s hard-to-get routine. She dated other guys-discreetly; now was not the time to reignite the party-girl rumors-but found the sex to be utterly unsatisfying. The thought crossed her mind that she might be in love with her cousin, but she quickly pushed it aside.
I don’t have time for love. There’s too much to do at Kruger-Brent.
Lexi’s world tour opened her eyes to the grievous problems the company was facing. Unquestionably, the biggest issue was size. Kruger-Brent was too big. Under Kate Blackwell’s leadership, the firm had swallowed every competitor it came across like Pac-Man, regardless of its fit with the rest of the group’s businesses. In the two years before Kate Blackwell’s death, Kruger-Brent became the proud owner of a diamond mine in Zaire, a children’s book publisher in Scotland, a biotech research firm in Connecticut and a swath of Brazilian rain forest approximately the size of Pennsylvania, to name only four of Kate’s scores of acquisitions.
Lexi’s great-grandmother had been master of the game of business. But the game had changed.
When I’m chairman, I’ll be playing by new rules. We need to be leaner. Fitter. Faster. Or we won’t survive.
Lexi knew she wanted to grow the real-estate business. Oil and gas would also be crucial. Her most recent trip to Africa had strengthened her growing belief that the continent, with its wealth of land and natural resources, might well hold the key to Kruger-Brent’s future. Just as it had once held the key to its past.
There were fortunes to be made in African land and property. Prices were tripling every year, but most big American firms were losing out, too nervous about the volatile politics and economy to invest in the region. Meanwhile, local conglomerates like the Olam Group and Africa Israel Investments were making out like bandits. In South Africa, what should have been Kruger-Brent’s heartland, new companies like Endeavour and Gabriel McGregor’s Phoenix were outpacing them, leveraging themselves up to the hilt and audaciously grabbing market share from right under their noses.
Lexi admired Phoenix’s brilliantly simple business model. She made a mental note to copy it, then squeeze Gabriel McGregor out of business at the earliest opportunity.
Jamie McGregor built this firm in Africa. He wasn’t afraid to take a risk. Nor am I.
The week before Christmas, August Sandford asked Lexi to have lunch with him.
“I never see you these days. Real estate is horribly quiet without you.”
Lexi smiled. It was the closest he’d ever come to paying her a compliment. She agreed to lunch the following day.
The concierge at the Harvard Club looked disapprovingly at the group of photographers mobbing Lexi as she emerged from her town car. In a cream cashmere coat from Donna Karan, her famous gray Blackwell eyes covered with oversize Oliver Peoples, she looked every inch the budding tycoon.
“Sorry, John.” Lexi smiled. The concierge melted faster than the snowflakes on the sidewalk. “I’ve been out of town for a few weeks.” She nodded toward the paparazzi. “I’m afraid they’re worse than usual. Has Mr. Sandford arrived yet?”
“Yes, Ms. Templeton. His usual table.”
August watched Lexi as she weaved her way through the other diners toward him. She wore a crisply tailored pantsuit she’d had custom-made in Hong Kong, and looked professional and poised. August thought: She’s grown up. Though he’d die rather than let her know it, he’d become genuinely fond of Lexi these past two years. His initial, envy-fueled attraction had been replaced by something worryingly close to friendship. August Sandford had never been friends with a woman before. Perhaps that was why this whole thing felt so awkward?
August was not looking forward to today’s lunch. He had things to tell Lexi that he knew she wouldn’t want to hear. Things that might make him look foolish in her eyes. Or paranoid. Or jealous. Or all three.
Lexi sat down.
“So what’s been going on? What’ve I missed? Did you close the Hammersman deal yet?”
August grinned. He loved the way she cut straight to the chase.
“We did. Yesterday. How was Africa?”
“Interesting. Hot. The food sucked.”
“You missed New York?”
“I missed the office. But don’t tell anyone.”
They ordered food. Lexi could tell August had something on his mind.
“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” She took a bite of her turkey club sandwich. After two weeks of boerewors and Mrs. Ball’s chutney washed down with rancid rooibos tea, it tasted like manna from heaven.
August bit his lip. “Have you seen Max since you got back?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“It may be nothing.” He paused. “It’s just…some of the things he’s been doing recently. Are you sure he’s given up all hope of the chairmanship?”
Lexi put down her sandwich.
“Of course I’m sure. What’s this about, August?”
“I overheard Max in the men’s room a few weeks ago. He was talking to Tristram Harwood, claiming credit for selling one of the online gambling businesses.”