The Most Coveted Prize. Penny JordanЧитать онлайн книгу.
in her death. It had been after that that Vasilii’s father had relocated his business and his home to London, although it had been in St Petersburg in Russia where her parents had met. Her father had had high moral standards, both in his business and his private life. The death of both parents in a car accident had been a terrible shock and a terrible loss, but thankfully she had always had Vasilii.
It had been wrong of her to allow herself to be taken over by what she was now beginning to think of as a form of madness in her unfamiliar desire for Kiryl, and she was glad that she had decided to put the whole incident behind her—to focus on what was really important in her life, Alena told herself as she stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the tenth floor.
The work of Alena’s mother’s charity involved helping girls in poverty all over the world. A multicultural staff worked for the charity, and its South American CEO, Dolores Alvarez, had known poverty in her childhood herself. She was now in her fifties, and the lines on her face told of her compassion and her life experience.
She welcomed Alena with a warm smile as she showed her into her office, and ordered coffee for both of them, telling her, ‘We’ve had a lovely surprise this morning. You’ll know that one of your late mother’s goals for our charity was to bring in more outside donors, and that we’ve been running a campaign to that effect?’
Alena nodded her head. ‘Yes, I know how important my father and mother believed it was that we should broaden the scope of the charity.’
‘After the death of your parents we did receive some very generous donations from their colleagues and friends, but they were one off payments. However, we have now had an approach from a potential donor which sounds very promising. Before making up his mind he has stated that he wants to meet you.’
Their coffee had arrived, and after thanking the smartly dressed young male PA who had brought it Alena asked the CEO, ‘Is it because he wants to know if I am capable of heading the charity successfully?’ She gave Dolores a wry look and told her, ‘It’s exactly the kind of thing Vasilii would do.’
‘Rich men like to be in complete control of their wealth. It seems to go with their mindset and the drive that has made them rich in the first place.’
‘Control freaks?’ Alena said ruefully.
Dolores smiled, but gave a small shake of her head. ‘Maybe, but we can’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth, or …’
‘Frighten it away?’ Alena suggested.
‘No. Not if we’re to succeed in achieving the most ambitious of your late mother’s plans. The money she left in trust for the charity brings in a good income, but …’
‘But we need more money. Yes, I know. I’ve been studying our financial statements, and the rise in the cost of living in some of the countries where we are most active has meant that the cost of providing schooling for the poorest in those countries is rising.’
The CEO gave her an approving look that Alena suspected was also tinged with surprise, before agreeing.
‘That is true, yes. Which means that it is important to find every new donor we can. From what this one has said to me he is considering making a very generous on-going annual donation to our cause, once he has satisfied himself as to …’
‘As to what?’ Alena pressed.
Dolores looked slightly uncomfortable.
‘Tell me,’ Alena insisted. ‘I have a right to know.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Dolores hesitated again, and then told her, ‘He has expressed some reservations about the fact that someone so youthful and … and untried will ultimately be in charge of the charity. Because of that he has expressed this wish to meet you personally.’
‘To assess my suitability to step into my mother’s shoes?’ Alena guessed.
‘To reassure himself that he is making the right decision,’ Dolores corrected her diplomatically. ‘Of course if you prefer not to do so then I am sure we could make a tactful excuse—perhaps tell him that you would prefer your brother to deal with the situation?’
Alena weighed up what Dolores had told her. If she met this potential donor and he didn’t think her capable of stepping into her mother’s shoes then she risked losing his support for the charity. It might be safer for her to allow Vasilii to meet him instead. But if she did that how was she ever going to be able to convince Vasilii that she was mature enough to take on her mother’s role? And, just as important, how was she ever going to feel confident about her ability to do that herself?
She took a deep breath.
‘If this prospective donor wishes to meet me, then it is only fair that he does.’
She could see from the CEO’s approving look that she had made the right decision.
‘If you could set up an appointment with him for me?’
‘That’s easily done,’ Dolores told her with a smile. ‘He is actually here now. When I told him that you were coming in this morning, and that I’d speak with you about seeing him, he announced that he would come here to meet you. I did try to put him off, but he insisted, I’m afraid.’
Just as Vasilii would have insisted in the same situation, Alena knew. Such behaviour might be considered by some to be unconventional, but in the world in which her brother moved those men who were the most successful often made their own rules and ignored convention.
‘Of course if you want us to tell him that you would prefer him to see him another time …?’
Alena thought swiftly. It was true that already she could feel a frisson of nervous energy jittering through her tummy at the thought of the responsibility she would be taking on in agreeing to meet this would-be donor. But if she wanted to be taken seriously as a woman whose maturity could be relied upon then she had to behave accordingly.
Straightening her spine, she shook her head. ‘No. I will meet him now.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. Thank you. This donation would mean such a lot to us. Especially as it would be a regular annual income, guaranteed for the next five years. We’ve asked him to wait in the boardroom—I’ll take you there now. And of course I’ll be on hand with you, to answer any technical questions he might have.’
Alena gave her a grateful look.
The charity’s boardroom had windows that overlooked the street outside. It was decorated in a businesslike and smart colour palette of off-whites and greys shading to black, its leather furniture showing subtle gleams of brushed steel. Its appearance was very much in accordance with the accepted contemporary look apart from the fact that its table was round rather than rectangular. It was the photographs displayed on the room’s walls that caught the attention, though: photographs of children, some of them taken by children and as a result slightly out of focus. They were haunting, strike-at-the-heart photographs that told a story of how a girl in the poorest of circumstances could become a young woman who could hold her head high because of the education and support she had received from this charity.
Normally it was to these photographs and this story that Alena’s attention was drawn whenever she entered this room. Her mother had chosen these photographs herself, and every time she looked at them Alena felt almost as though she could feel her mother in the room with her.
Today, though, it wasn’t the photographs that were the focus of her immediate attention. Instead it was the man standing in front of the windows, outlined by the light coming in through them, his features shadowed and hidden. Alena didn’t need to see those features to recognise him. Her body and her senses had recognised him immediately. Kiryl.
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