to offend any important people—and leave the economy alone, for heaven’s sake! Do I have your word?”
There was no use arguing. “Yes, Mother.”
“Good. And don’t worry yourself. Alice is, above all, both practical and patriotic. She’ll understand.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Mother.” My voice dropped in defeat and I wondered, not for the first time, if faking my own death would be the wisest course. Then Leo could take my place while I wiled away the days surfing in the Caribbean.
“I must run or I’ll be late for my next appointment. Get some rest, Malcolm. You sound tired.” Her voice softened a touch.
“I will. Goodbye, Mother.” I hit the end button and then turned to rest my backside against the marble counter.
Well, that could have gone better. The last thing I needed was one more thing to apologize to Alice about. She’d be livid, and rightly so. I’d done a little digging of my own while Alice slept until landing earlier and discovered the American branch of this Triumph company was on thin ice with the parent office here at home. It was just like Alice to do whatever it took to get the job done. They needed to turn a corner, and fast, and I was apparently the key to their plan now.
Perhaps if I just didn’t bring it up, she’d forget about it? Right, that was about as unlikely as me riding about in Leo’s electric car. No, I’d have to come up with an alternate plan, but first, it was time to prioritize. The ad campaign could wait.
Victoria would be back from the errand I’d sent her on upon my return soon, and then I’d introduce her properly to Alice—something I was not looking forward to. If I had to guess, Victoria would not take it well. But it wasn’t as if I could sack her now. Not when Alice was under the impression she’d be training Victoria and then leaving again.
I’d just have to make sure Alice was so satisfied in her position here that she’d ditch that boring gig at Triumph and be begging to remain here—even after the coronation. Then I could sack Victoria. Or send her on a goodwill mission to Tibet.
But keeping Alice satisfied might be tricky. I sifted through the contents of my private kitchen drawers until I located a pen and pad of paper. Time to start a list. Ah, Alice would be so proud.
Things That Make Alice Happy
1. Bossing me around
2. An organized desk
3. Me sticking to my schedule
4. Proving me wrong
5. Being useful
All right. This was a good start. As soon as I admitted my public speaking issue to her, we’d be satisfying several of these right off. She’d be positively ecstatic at the news of my inconvenient affliction. Well, in a manner of speaking.
But my experience with women told me I’d need more than strictly task-related items for my list. Just as women were more skilled at multitasking than men, they required a wider array of stimuli to reach a state of perfect satisfaction.
For example, a man can be quite happy with a good blow job while a woman often needs her tits fondled, her clit flicked, that one spot behind her ear sucked, and her unicorn of a g-spot hammered with your cock before she comes. And it’s worth it in the end because, really, who doesn’t love to satisfy a woman?
So, I’d need to take a wider approach when it came to Alice’s happiness. Not that I’d be involving my cock, but the premise remained the same. Satisfaction in a broader sense equaled Alice staying put and, therefore, me surviving what lay ahead.
Think, Malcolm, think.
What kinds of things did Alice fancy? What made her smile?
Aha! She had her brother and sister she talked about sometimes. Although I seemed to recall her brother being a bit of a twat.
6. Her sister, Tilly
I also knew some of her food preferences. Food certainly made her happy.
7. Cannoli—but just the filling
She always threw away the shell, something I’d almost forgotten, which was surprising since it annoyed me so much.
8. The Thai spring rolls from the palace kitchen
I seemed to recall her almost biting my finger off when I attempted to help myself to one off her plate last autumn. I’d do well to remember that.
9. The scents of coriander and citrus
I recalled a lot of sighing—or possibly even moaning—over the coriander in particular, as if she were a kitten and it was a pot of catnip.
10. Feldish folk music
Any time