Lucius (Acquisition Series #4) - Celia Aaron Page 0,7
ready.”
He steps out, and I steel my nerves, forcing myself to remember that I’m in charge of my fate now. No one else. The main obstacle is already gone, and now all I have left to do is finish the rest of the Vinemont clan. Financial ruin will be a good start.
The door opens, and I turn to meet each board member as they file in. Handshakes and smiles are exchanged as the six men enter and take their seats. A transcriptionist sits in one corner and sets up her machine. Three chairs are left open—one for Lucius, chairman of the board. I try not to smirk at the knowledge that he won’t make it today. The other two are for Sinclair and Teddy, both invited to the board meeting as a matter of cordiality.
“We may as well get started.” I glance at Linton and jerk my chin toward the door.
He closes it and joins me at the table.
“We need to wait for Lucius.” One of the board members wipes crumbs from his coat.
“I think we all know how he feels about the offer from Delacroix. Him being here won’t change anything.”
He stops wiping. “And you are?”
“My apologies.” Linton steps to his seat. “This is Evelyn Delacroix, the head of Delacroix Enterprises.”
The board member rubs his salt and pepper beard. “I thought that other guy, the one with the glasses—”
“Mr. Frankfurt is the CEO, but Evelyn is the owner. We planned on having this meeting a bit later in the process when the intricacies of our corporate structure became more important, but Ms. Delacroix wanted to go ahead and get acquainted with all of you.” Linton offers a comfortable smile, one that—along with his reasonable tone—has defused plenty of disputes.
The board member, Mr. Van from my research, doesn’t buy it. “We still should wait for Lucius. If we started without him, he wouldn’t appreciate it.”
I wave my hand toward the empty leather chairs. “It’s clearly not as important to the Vinemonts as it is to all of you. After all, your time is valuable, isn’t it? Yet you’re here in a timely fashion.” I break out my own smile, the girlish one I hate because it reminds me of the old me. “And I’m genuinely excited about this opportunity and the benefits it can afford to everyone at this table. I’d be happy to speak with Lucius separately and go over the specifics, though I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”
Mr. Van casts a look at my cleavage even though I’m dressed rather demurely, the neck of my white blouse in a modest scoop and my dark skirt suit form-fitting but classy. My hands go cold as he considers me, and I remember how much I hate being seen.
Finally, he says, “I suppose we could start. Like you said, he’ll be here soon.”
“Thank you.” I look around the room, meeting each board member’s eyes. “If you’ll turn to page one of the prospectus, you’ll see the particulars of the deal Delacroix is offering. I think you’ll find that my offer will lead to a nice payout for the shareholders. My company has a short but strong history of taking companies from low or medium performing positions and, for lack of a better phrase, turbo-charging them. We trim the fat, get rid of any sentimentality or entrenched management, and do what’s required to turn bigger profits year after year. On page two, you’ll see the results we achieved from acquiring Parade Pecans two years ago. That was a complete turnaround, from barely performing to becoming the number one pecan supplier for all grocery stores in the southeast. The Kincaid family had owned that business since the Great Depression, but the sons and grandsons had run it into the ground. Tradition kept the board from replacing them. But I changed all that, and now its balance sheets are the envy of its competitors. Now, what I’m offering—”
The glass door to my right swings open and I turn. Sinclair and Teddy Vinemont stroll in. Sinclair doesn’t even look at me, and Teddy gives me a neutral expression as they walk to the empty seats.
“Began without us?” Sinclair sinks down and steeples his fingers before giving me an appraising glance. “And having your college intern give your sales pitch?” He smirks.
“This is Evelyn Delacroix,” Linton says, his calm tone almost grating. “She’s the owner of Del—”
“Delacroix. Yes, I follow.” Sinclair flicks the prospectus across the table where it lands at the transcriptionist’s feet. “I