Page 20 of Vivacity
‘Thirty-eight percent.’
‘Yikes.’ Yikes is right. Shares equal votes. If the family only controls around a third of the voting rights, then the Montagues have no power over whether the Kingsleys can acquire them. Like Ethan says, every shareholder will get to decide for himself or herself.
Obviously, when you give up your majority stake in what was once a family-owned company, you also give up your autonomy in exchange for the money your new shareholders give you, but it must still ranklebadly. For the Montagues, that is. Something tells me that acquiring them isn’t a new idea for the Kingsleys.
Ethan doesn’t comment. Instead, his eyes flicker to the door and his stress levels appear to ramp up a notch, if that’s possible. On instinct, I turn around in my seat and am confronted with the Sexy Daddy Ghost of Christmas Future. Oh sirree—these Kingsley men agewell. Richard Kingsley is a total SILF (Senior I’d Like to Fuck). He’s probably pushing seventy, but boy, has he still got it.
While I think about it, the ageing-well proof is yet another silver lining around the cloud of Ethan’s Raging Arsehole factor that seemed so indisputable when I first met him.
‘And who is this?’ Ethan Senior positively purrs, advancing into the room. On second thoughts, he looks entirely too self-satisfied. And is a three-piece suit really necessary? Nobody inthis country wears three-piece suits anymore unless they’re at a wedding—or Ascot. And even then, it’s morning suits all the way. A three-piece pinstripe suit in one’s place of work seems gratuitous. Aggressively so.
‘This is Sophia Petrakis, my new EA. Sophia—my father, Richard Kingsley.’ Ethan grunts out the introduction reluctantly. I sense he resents having social niceties interrupt the beef he clearly has with Daddy Dearest, who’s apparently been moving the hostile bid along without notifying his son, who’s the fucking CEO. Tut, tut.
‘Charmed, dear.’ Richard stops in front of me and holds out his hand as I stand and shake it. I don’t miss the naked appreciation of my appearance in his eyes.
‘How do you do.’ I don’t give him more. I’ll take my cues from my boss, and right now I see no reason to pander to Richard.
‘She’s wall-crossed. And you’ve been buying stock. SinceThursday.’
I sink back into my chair, angling it for a full view of both men as Ethan glares daggers at his father across his desk.
‘Someone had to get in front of this, and it was clear you weren’t going to.’ Richard slides his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, looking entirely too smug. ‘I could have told you we’d end up going hostile.’
‘It wasn’t your role to make that call. I’m the CEO. I’m leading this transaction.’
‘I’m still the Chairman of the Board and the founder of this company.’
‘I was negotiating in good faith. Miles called this—he accused me of buying up their shares in the open market. Jesus Christ.’
Ethan is shaking now, with ill-disguised fury and what looks like genuine distress. My first, private reaction upon hearing about the deal was pity for the Montagues. Ethan may come across as an aggressive bastard who has no qualms aboutgoing after what he wants, but this enlightening little exchange suggests he has integrity and scruples, at the very least.
He may want a fight, but it sounds like he wants a fair fight.
Unlike his darling papa.
Richard’s voice stays perfectly charming, perfectly even—for my benefit, I suspect. ‘This may be a rare opportunity to acquire our most complementary competitor, but that doesn’t mean I want to pay any price.Notbuying up stock as soon as we approached them is nothing short of naïve, my boy. I for one intend this deal to go smoothly. We want to show the market—and the Montagues—that they’re dealing with professionals. We get this done, and we’re far less susceptible as a target. Far less. I didn’t build this empire to see us taken out and have some ghastly Americans put their name on the door.’
Bingo. If Ethan’s an Eight Enneagram, I suspect his father’s a raging Three. I mean, I’ve only spent a minute with the man, but I’d put money on it. Three—AKA The Achiever, or sometimes The Performer. Both fit. Everything about this guy seems performative. He builds and he builds, and as his empire swells, so does his ego.
Like I said, I’d put money on it.
Most of the seraphim are Threes, actually, with my darling Athena the most Three-ish Three I know: Driven. Outward-looking. Image-conscious. But while many of my girls seek their worth through validation and recognition, they’re at the healthier, more well-adjusted end of the spectrum.
And as for this dude?
Hmm.
He’s looking more and more like the kind of Three who’d run his own son over with a bus to get what he wants. Threes can’t help looking to others, but I suspect this guy is all image and no substance—an impressive shell that’s entirely hollow.
Fascinating.
And pretty shitty for Ethan, if my instincts are right.
CHAPTER 11
Ethan
I’m still shaking when I usher Dad out the door: shaking not just with anger, but with that ridiculous, primal kind of fear that comes from a long history of cautionary tales. In my younger years, going up against my father never went well for me—or for anyone. I may be a grown man and the elected leader of this company, but it seems my body still hasn’t got the memo, and it fucking kills me. Whenever I confront him, which I only do when I’m forced to, it’s as if there’s a ten-year-old version of me cowering in a corner, waiting for him to punish me by withholding his love and attention, by freezing me out.
