Page 10 of Not Your Average Vixen
Those with their eye on the prize were interested in one goal.
Making cold, hard cash.
Lots of it—and at any cost.
He’d started Rudolph Holdings seven years ago, and in that short amount of time, he’d become the king of asset stripping. Like a wolf searching out the weakest sheep in the flock, his corporation would purchase vulnerable companies. If they were able to turn a profit, adding to his bottom line, they were safe. But if they faltered, if they exhibited even a hint of weakness, it was off to the chopping block. He’d squeeze everything he could from the failed venture. There were wimps and whiners out there who labeled his business practices as callous and cruel, but he didn’t give a damn.
This endeavor required one to mute their feelings and cast away any inkling of sentiment.
If there were ever a person built for this life, it was him.
At thirty years old, even with a law degree and an MBA under his belt, he might be considered young and inexperienced in some circles. But what he lacked in age, he more than made up for with his sharp business acumen and acute intelligence.
Some said he had a sixth sense. He didn’t. He relied on the facts. The data.
Suckers trusted their gut. Losers put their faith in feelings and intuition. Winners pushed that mushy bullshit aside and trusted the numbers.
“Sir, in the past six months, Rudolph Holdings has acquired several factories and a chain of boutique bakeries. Despite the bakery closing locations in smaller cities and resort towns, it’s operating at a loss and has been bleeding cash for the last nine months. We sent out a final notice last week, alerting the owners to the situation,” a young man said with a nervous twitch.
Soren suppressed a grin. He reveled in his power—in his ability to make men and women alike quiver in his presence.
He leaned forward. “I want a full assessment of the bakery chain: property information and an estimate of key assets. Let’s do what we do best. Take them apart and get top dollar for every sellable component.”
“And the staff, sir?” the man added, running his index finger under the collar of his dress shirt.
Soren stared at the man. A new hire.
“The staff?” he repeated, his voice low.
“Yes, how should we proceed with the employees,” the newbie asked as beads of sweat lined the guy’s upper lip.
Soren rose to his feet and paced the length of the office. “You’re new here.”
“Yes, sir, I’m Cory. I was hired a month ago.”
“Let me give you a tip, Cory.”
The young man wiped his wrist across his sweaty lip. “I’d appreciate that, sir.”
Soren stared out the window at the park he’d visited a million times, but never with his parents. No, they had no interest in him. Petty affairs and private jets headed to Monte Carlo or the Italian Riviera took priority for his aloof mother and playboy of a father.
He turned and pinned the man with his piercing green gaze. “We don’t concern ourselves with the employees.”
The new hire opened a folder and glanced at a piece of paper. “We don’t? I figured they had families, and it’s so close to Christmas. I thought we could be charitable and give them some more time.”
Jesus Christ!
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Time to do what? Cost us more money?”
Cory swallowed hard. “I didn’t think of it that way, sir.”
“If you want to be successful in this business, you need to start thinking of it that way. Charity doesn’t pay the bills. It simply draws out the inevitable. We go in for the fast kill—precise and lethal. We don’t fuck around. Do you understand?”
The man nodded emphatically. “Yes, Mr. Rudolph, I do.”
“You all know what you need to do. Get to work,” he said, addressing the group as his phone buzzed an incoming call.
He slipped it from his pocket and nearly cracked a smile, but he maintained a neutral expression as he dismissed the employees. Once they were down the hall and out of eyesight, he glanced at the only framed photo he kept on a shelf near his desk. The corners of his lips tipped into the ghost of a grin as he took in the image of two gangly fourteen-year-old boys with their arms slung over each other.
