Page 26 of Most Eligible Billionaire

Will she get that loathing glow again? Will she show her claws?

Something wicked twists inside of me, and it’s not entirely unpleasant.

Brett kicks my foot. Givens wants Tuesday’s numbers. I blink and grab my tablet. I give him the numbers, then sneak another glance at her.

When I’m relatively sure she’s not paying attention, I bring up the voting amendment, a densely worded bylaw change that will redistribute voting rights, favoring family and longstanding board members over newcomers—namely her. It’s worded in a way I’m pretty sure she won’t recognize, given her lack of business knowledge. Three lawyers signed off on it.

I present it in a rambling monotone.

Basically, she’s about to vote to strip her own voting rights. Once she votes for that, we’ll reorganize the company. Reorganize her and the dog right out the door.

I yawn. Sure enough, she yawns, too. “All in favor,” I say. She turns her brown eyes to me. She’s been doing that. Pretending she understands and then watching me for a cue how to vote. Smart enough not to vote against her own meal ticket, I suppose. I created a nonsense amendment to test the theory, and I warned the group ahead of time I’d do it.

Kaleb wasn’t happy with the plan; he said it went too far. He always feels like I go too far until Locke needs to send a hard guy to the negotiating table, and then he’s happy for me to go too far.

So he went along, because I haven’t been wrong once, and I built the shit out of this company. Even with Kaleb acting like a giant boulder around my ankle, keeping us back from real progress, I built it.

Even through the crash and the real estate downturn, when other builders were wheedling out of paying subs, I found a way to pay people, to finish jobs the right way, to keep our Wall Street end happy.

No way will a small-time scammer get the best of us.

I finish rattling off the amendment where she agrees to have no more say in company business.

Vicky isn’t paying attention, though Smuckers is the very picture of alertness, suddenly, eyes like black buttons, tongue hanging out, staring at me like he’s spotted a squirrel riding on my head. I look away, not wanting to encourage his excitement.

“All in favor,” I say. We start around the table. My heart speeds up like it always does when I go in for the coup.

Vicky’s going to go for it. I feel almost sad for her.

Almost.

These shenanigans wouldn’t fly in a publicly traded company. Then again, neither would a dog on the board. In a private family company, all bets are off.

Listlessly, I raise my hand. “Aye.” We get a string of ayes.

She raises her hand. Her pretty lips part. Her chest rises slightly, and then she pauses, brows furrow. “Wait, I don’t even know what this is.”

I sigh and read it off. “All present in favor. Just waiting on you.”

She cranes her head forward, eyes narrowed.

“Can I get a definition of reallocation of plebiscite by seniority?” Vicky asks.

My heart sinks. “What is this, a spelling bee?”

“I just don’t understand it.”

“It’s a procedural motion to ensure continuing smooth operation. An agreement on forms of agreement. You’re going to have to get used to voting on matters of procedure.”

She watches Brett and Smuckers. “Specific definition, please,” she says softly.

Mandy groans.

“It’s procedural,” I say, sliding a packet of printed bullshit across to her. “A matter of continuation.”

She lifts her gaze back to me. She’s a fish out of water. A fish on land, really, flopping around, visibly confused. But she keeps flopping, keeps fighting. She’s a scrapper, really. “Reallocation of plebiscite?”

Everyone looks at me. She’s asking the right question. “The rule gives precedence to experience.”

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