Taking Control (28 page)

The strong support of these men is shaking me. It’s one thing to offer verbal support, to play poker, or drink whiskey together. It’s entirely another thing to offer up one’s money.

This morning I was expecting a number of outcomes, but this wasn’t one of them. “I’m honored, but you can put your checkbooks away. I’ve got it covered.”

I share the details of the plan with them.

“When it comes down to it, you’re the CEO of Kerr Inc. You get to make the call whether to wind down or keep going,” Kaga states emphatically.

“I can take the company in whatever direction I want, but lawsuits could tie my hands for years while the value of the company drains away. This is the best course of action.”

Nothing more is said as the other members of the board arrive. Once everyone is assembled, I address the board.

“Thank you for coming today,” I begin.

Paul interrupts. “Thank you for agreeing to this. We know you could have stalled or held out for some time. This is a show of good faith on your part.”

His words are said more for the benefit of the rest of the members than for me. I take a glance around the table. Will Blake should vote with Paul. Tiffany Rosien sits next to him. I invited her to join us two years ago, and she’s now serving her third and last year. At the age of forty she was the CEO of a top tech firm. Now she’s primarily an angel investor. She’s sharp and ambitious and wouldn’t want to tie herself to a ship she thinks is too damaged.

Donald Harris is an attorney with Scheff, Market, and Rutherford. He’s always been adverse to risk. Dumping me is the safest route in his mind. Jeffrey Olsen is a partner in United Insurers. Insurance companies have tighter fists than Scrooge. Susan Murphy is the Vice President of Operations at Venture Entertainment. This group of three has always voted as a block. Tiffany and Paul are wildcards, but Tiffany tends to vote with Susan.

“I understand that you’re all concerned about the recent rumors that I might be winding down Kerr Inc. or that there has been some inappropriate siphoning of funds away from the corporation. Another person might remind you that I’ve increased your financial portfolio consistently every year since the very first; that some of you would not be where you are today if not for me. But I’m not interested in looking back, but forward.”

“Forward? Is that what winding down is?” scoffs Donald. “Cashing out positions and closing your doors is a backward act. An act of someone who’s guilty and trying to cover his tracks.”

Beside him Jeff nods slowly.

“I’m not interested in winding down the business, but I do believe that Kerr Inc. can be profitable without being as large as it is. Reducing positions isn’t a sign of weakness, but of ensuring we are nimble enough to jump on great opportunities in this fast changing environment,” I explain.

“It’s been an honor serving on the board, but as a board member it is my job to ensure that Kerr Inc.’s interests are placed above everyone else’s,” Tiffany interjects.

There is more bullshit discussion about putting the needs of the stockholders first, but the self-interest in here reeks. Everyone is concerned with their own skin.

I sit back and let them talk.

It’s clear that the plan concocted by Donald, Jeff, and Susan is to force a vote that would require me to buy out their shares, or, if I can’t, to hand over my shares to them to be placed in escrow to avoid further devaluation of Kerr Inc. stock. Or they could start a stockholder lawsuit, which we all know would place the company in tumult.

“I want you to feel like you’ve been treated fairly. For those of you who are unhappy with the way I am handling the company, I propose to buy all your shares in Kerr Inc. at the market prices. In exchange, you will resign immediately from the board and waive all responsibility for board actions. This offer is open to everyone seated here.” My gaze sweeps the room.

Donald blusters that he doesn’t want my money, just security for the company. Jeff and Susan nod their heads. Tiffany looks to Susan for direction and nods late. Paul remains silent.

Kaga, clearly annoyed by all of this, calls for a vote. “Someone needs to make the motion.”

“I move Ian Kerr will personally agree to buy out the shares of any board member in exchange for the member’s immediate resignation.” Jake’s voice booms out. Gabe is my attorney and is not a part of the board, as it would be a conflict. He says nothing. Tiffany’s eyes narrow, but my attention is on Paul. As I told Tiny this morning, the outcome is already assured, regardless of the vote.

“Seconded,” Kaga says.

“Discussion?” I ask.

There is none.

“Everyone in favor say ‘aye.’”

Everyone in the room, including Paul, says aye. His eyes twinkle a little bit as he loudly affirms his support for me. I nod my head in gratitude. Paul’s support of me means more than he even knows.

“Motion carries. Who wants to be bought out?”

Donald jumps to his feet. Susan and Jeff quickly follow.

“Motion for Ian Kerr to purchase the shares of Harris, Olsen, and Murphy and accept their immediate resignation.”

“Seconded.”

“The motion carries.” Kaga slams his hand on the table.

Gabe pulls out the papers I had him prepare before the meeting. “Pursuant to Article 35, subpart A, we are valuing the shares per the price at the open of today’s market. Here are your checks. Please sign at the flagged pages. Copies will be sent to you via courier later today.”

Donald’s mouth drops open. “How can you? I had no idea you had this money! Where did you get it? If you’ve been hiding income, we’ll prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law!”

“Why would you vote for this if you thought I didn’t have the funds? Did you believe you were just going to take my portion of the stock?” I shake my head. “Given that you are no longer part of the company, nor do you have shares, you don’t have the right to sue me. Besides, if you thought that I had all my money tied into Kerr Inc., you’re too great a fool to be on the board anyway.”

Since the meeting is adjourned, I leave Gabe to clean up the details. No need for me to watch him bury them.

“They’re walking away with a lot of money,” Kaga observes as we exit the room.

“Not as much as they could have. Kerr Inc. stock will rebound, and I’ll get it back eventually. One by one.” It will give me something exciting to do in the office as Tiny learns how to be an investigator for Jake.

TWENTY-THREE

“T
HE
WALKUP
?” I
LOOK
AT
Tiny blankly.

Her grin falters and then slides off her face. “Yeah, I mean, I thought maybe I’d sublet it or something, but now we can live there. Do you plan to rent this out or just sell it outright? The money should keep us afloat for a few years, right? And what about the Central Park apartment? Shoot, some people can retire on the proceeds from a place like that. Not to mention that we definitely do not need a place in Connecticut.”

“Bunny.” I shake my head, but under my skin, my heart is expanding beyond its container of tissue and muscle and bone. She truly doesn’t care about all the things my money can buy her. “When I said that I was sunk, I meant that I might not be able to retain control of Kerr Inc., not that we’d have to move into a fifth-floor walkup. We’ve got plenty of money. I’m not even going to make you fly commercial when we go on our honeymoon.”

“Do you own your own jet?” Tiny frowns. “Because that’s just wasteful.”

I pull her onto my lap. “No, only sheiks own their own jets. I’m a lowly peon with a NetJet share.”

“NetJet?”

The delicate curve of her neck calls to me, and I bury my nose there, inhaling her sweet scent. My palms rest against the plump swells of her ass. I can’t resist squeezing them and pulling her closer to my aching groin. When I don’t respond, she pokes me in the shoulder. I groan but relent. Lifting my head from its nest, I smile down at her. “It’s a timeshare for a jet. You buy shares which guarantee you access to the type of jet you need within four hours. It’s fairly genius. I wish I had bought it, but right now I think the market is too unstable to launch a competitor.”

“I could call up today and say I want to go to Pennsylvania and the plane will be ready in four hours?” she asks in wonderment.

“Try Paris, bunny. We can be in the air by midnight. Just say the word.”

“The life you lead.” She shakes her head.

“It’s our life.” I’m quiet but emphatic.

“If it weren’t for our shindig tomorrow, I’d be tempted to say yes,” she admits.

“Next weekend then,” I promise, and I’m not joking. Next weekend, we’ll take a private jet to Paris.

She allows me to carry her into the bedroom then, and we take each other to a destination far more pleasurable than those that exist on earth.

M
ID
-
MORNING
S
ATURDAY
, F
RANK
AND
HIS
team of stylists arrive to prepare Tiny for the Frick Ball. Her attire is a mystery. As part of our punishment for failing to agree on anything he brought to my office last week, he didn’t allow us to see it.

“You’ll just have to trust me,” he declared.

Tiny raises her eyebrows but gives herself into their care. I barricade myself in my office to make sure all of the details are taken care of for tonight. Tiny and I went over them this morning, but one more check can’t hurt.

Around noon, she sneaks into my office with a tray. Her hair is up in curlers, and she’s wearing a dressing gown and not much else.

“Tell me you’re not wearing Frank’s infamous underwear.”

“I’m not wearing that fancy underwear.”

“Is that a lie? No, don’t answer,” I laugh. “I’m sure that Frank would gut me if I came over and messed you up.”

“He would. I had to promise him I would stay at least six inches away from you.”

“I’m wounded.” I place a hand on my chest. “You’d have to stand farther away than that to avoid contact with me.”

She smirks. “What Frank doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She places the tray on my desk and slides into my lap. “Whatever you do, don’t touch my hair.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, slipping my hand under her dressing gown. She’s wearing a pair of old boxers and a tank top. Easy access clothing, and I take all the advantage the loose-fitting garments afford me.

“Six inches!” Frank screeches as he slams open the door. “I knew I couldn’t leave you two alone for one second.”

My hand stills against her as Tiny freezes up.

“Don’t ever come barging into any room in my house again,” I say. The violence in my voice must be evident because Frank’s eyes flare. He opens his mouth to say something, but then his instincts kick in. He realizes he is a hairsbreadth away from me leaping over my desk and pounding him. Without another word, he turns and stomps out of the room.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Tiny mutters against my neck.

“Now we know,” I say.

“What?”

“That you aren’t into being watched.”

“Too awkward,” she admits.

“Maybe it wasn’t anonymous enough,” I suggest. “We’ll test it out.”

“We will?” She arches a brow.

“Why not?”

“I’
M
IMPRESSED
.”

“I’m terrified,” Tiny says, holding her hands out from her sides as if she is afraid to touch her dress. Over her right wrist is a heavy gold, red, and black bangle. The diamond engagement ring winks at me. The sight of it on her finger will never fail to thrill me. It’s a visible mark of my possession, and I can’t wait until I wear her ring so that I can declare to all the world that I belong to Victoria Kerr.

“It’s a vintage Charles James,” Frank says proudly, gesturing toward Tiny with his arms outstretched and both hands pointing toward the gown.

“I have no idea who that is, Frank,” I admit. Tiny gives me a grateful look. She doesn’t know either.

Frank huffs. “Charles James invented the sports bra, as well as the wrap dress cut on the bias—otherwise known as the taxi dress.”

“Taxi dress?” Tiny echoes.

“Yes. It was so simple you could slip it on and off in the backseat of a taxi.”

I give a wordless shrug in answer to Tiny’s raised eyebrow. My knowledge of fashion history is more shallow than a rain puddle.

“He was the subject of the Met Ball this year!”

At our blank stares, he throws up his hands and calls us uneducated cretins.

“That’s why we pay you, Frank. To make us look good.”

“No doubt. This is an amazing dress. I don’t even look like myself,” Tiny exclaims.

Our praise soothes his wounded feelings, and he perks up. “You do look amazing, Victoria. Simply amazing.”

Her blonde hair is parted in the middle but drapes lightly around the sides of her head before it is swept back in a sleek curve over her skull. The long strands are caught up in an intricate mass of curls that sit right at the nape of her neck.

The ball gown is tri-colored. The top portion is a severe black and sleeveless, with a neckline that cuts directly across her collarbone. The full coverage back dips into a vee right above the top of her ass. Around her waist, claret-red silk is draped and tucked and folded into a complicated structure that stands slightly proud of her hips. The side is drawn up as if it’s a curtain you’re peeking underneath. The underskirt is made of a straw-colored, tissue-thin silk folded into what seems like a thousand different pleats. Even though nearly every inch of Tiny is covered, the effect is shockingly erotic because it looks like she’s in a state of undress. Or perhaps like an exotic flower unfurling her petals.

Blood pulses through me, dark and hot.

“Stop right there,” Frank orders. “No touching, or she turns into a pumpkin.”

“Her jewelry is wrong,” I murmur. From my inside tux pocket I pull out a soft velvet bag. “Hand up, bunny.”

She holds out her palm with a questioning look. Frank falls silent and then gasps as the jewels fall into her hand.

Chandelier earrings made of rubies and diamonds are paired with a diamond and ruby bracelet. The bracelet is a three-inch wide flexible cuff with alternating circular and oval-cut rubies interspersed between baguette-cut diamonds. Cars are less expensive than this bracelet, but when Frank told me that I should buy her a bracelet to compliment a red dress, I knew I had to have it.