The two of them spent the next few days at the villa, with Elizabeth remaining in bed, and Alec fussing over her, cooking all the meals, reading to her. During that time it seemed to Elizabeth that the telephone never stopped ringing. Ivo and Simonetta called every day to see how she was, and Hélène and Charles, and Walther. Even Vivian called. They all offered to come and stay with her.
“I’m really all right,” she told them. “There’s no reason for you to come. I’ll be returning to Zurich in a few days.”
Rhys Williams called. Elizabeth had not realized how much she had missed him until she heard the sound of his voice.
“I hear you decided to give Hélène some competition,” he said. But she could hear the concern in his voice.
“Wrong. I only race on mountains, downhill.” It was incredible to her that she could joke about it now.
Rhys said, “I’m glad you’re all right, Liz.”
His tone, as much as his words, warmed her. She wondered if he was with another woman now, and who she was. It would be someone beautiful, of course.
Damn her.
“Did you know you made the headlines?” Rhys asked.
“No.”
“ ‘Heiress narrowly escapes death in car accident. Only a few weeks after her father, the well-known—’ You can write the rest of the story yourself.”
They spoke on the phone for half an hour, and when Elizabeth hung up she was feeling much better. Rhys seemed so genuinely interested in her, and concerned. She wondered whether he made every woman he knew feel that way about him. It was part of his charm. She remembered how they had celebrated her birthdays together. Mrs. Rhys Williams.
Alec walked into the bedroom. He said, “You look like the Cheshire cat.”
“Do I?”
Rhys had always been able to make her feel that way. Perhaps, she thought, I should tell Rhys about the confidential report.
Alec had arranged for one of the company planes to fly them back to Zurich.
“I hate to take you back so soon,” he said apologetically, “but there are some rather urgent decisions that have to be made.”
The flight to Zurich was uneventful. There were reporters at the airport. Elizabeth made a brief statement about her accident, and then Alec had her safely inside the limousine and they were on their way to the company headquarters.
She was in the conference room with all the members of the board, and Rhys, present. The meeting had been going on for the past three hours, and the air was stale with cigar and cigarette smoke. Elizabeth was still shaken from her experience, and she had a pounding headache—Nothing to be concerned about, Miss Roffe. When the concussion wears off, the headaches will go away.
She looked around the room, at the tense, angry faces. “I’ve decided not to sell,” Elizabeth had told them. They thought she was being arbitrary and stubborn. If they only knew how close she had come to giving in. But now it was impossible. Someone in this room was an enemy. If she quit now, it would be his victory.
They had all tried to convince her, each in his own fashion.
Alec said reasonably, “Roffe and Sons needs an experienced president, Elizabeth. Particularly now. For your own sake, as well as everyone else’s, I would like to see you walk away from this.”
Ivo used his charm. “You’re a beautiful young girl, carissima. The whole world is yours. Why do you want to become a slave to something as dull as business when you could be out, having a wonderful time, traveling—”
“I’ve traveled,” Elizabeth said.
Charles used Gallic logic. “You happen to hold the controlling stock, through a tragic accident, but it makes no sense for you to try to run the company. We have serious problems. You will only make them worse.”
Walther spoke bluntly. “The company is in enough trouble. You have no idea how much trouble. If you do not sell now, it will be too late.”
Elizabeth felt as though she were under siege. She listened to them all, studying them, evaluating what they were telling her. Each of them based his argument on the good of the company—yet one of them was working to destroy it.