He refused to be like his stepsiblings, living off the fat of their inheritances. He wanted to build something, like his great-grandfather had. He wanted it to last, unlike his great-grandfather’s legacy. The Draper & Dallas department store chain was long gone. The advancements made by Ruby Hawk in biofeedback and neural technology, however, could make lives better for generations.
He crushed the newspaper in his hand. Ruby Hawk Technologies was his. He’d created the company, pouring his own money into it. Now he needed additional capital for the company to reach its full potential, to prove to those who wrote him off as a rich dilettante that he had what it took to be a tech visionary.
He’d explored options for raising more money but none provided the combination of financing, ownership control and corporate independence Luke sought. Then Irene Stavros suggested he talk to her father. A month ago, Luke received a deal term sheet from Nestor.
On paper, it was perfect. The Stavros Group would buy Ruby Hawk and infuse the company with the cash it needed to expand, while allowing Ruby Hawk to continue to operate autonomously. The original management team, including Luke as CEO, would remain intact and he would continue to call all the shots without interference from the acquiring parent company. Anticipating an easy close to the deal, Luke ordered and installed expensive new equipment for his engineers. Then when he went to meet Nestor to sign the paperwork, Nestor revealed his trap. Unless Luke went along with Nestor’s demands, he wouldn’t have the means to make payroll in six months’ time.
And now, the article. Thanks to it revealing the deal terms, his employees would be expecting their stock options to be worth millions upon the completion of the acquisition.
He had to save this deal. “Where’s your boss?”
Her green eyes widened at the snap of his words.
“I’ve been here for half an hour and no one has answered the door or the phone. What kind of a business is this?” He thrust the tabloid back at her. He’d deal with the story later.
“We’re very good at what we do. I’m sure there’s an explanation.” She shook out the crumpled paper.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch.
Color rose even higher in her cheeks. “I just got off a plane. Johanna probably has a meeting off-site.” She opened a substantial tote bag and searched inside. “Although that doesn’t explain why Britt isn’t on phone duty,” she murmured under her breath. Her hand surfaced holding a key ring. “Wait here while I make sure the lights are on.”
She swung open the door and disappeared inside, shutting it behind her. He heard a stifled exclamation, followed by a loud thud. Just as he was about to investigate the noise, she emerged, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
Her face made her white shirt seem dark gray by comparison. “Um, maybe you should wait at the diner next door. The coffee is good. It’s all single origin, hand poured—”
“No.” It would be a long time before he’d be able to drink coffee without the memory of that morning’s meeting poisoning the taste. “What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”
She shook her head, her chest rapidly rising and falling.
“I’m going in.” He gently took her hand off the doorknob. It trembled in his grasp.
Her chin snapped up. “No, please don’t—”
He ignored her protestations. Was it a break-in? Vandalism? Or hungover coworkers, and she didn’t want a prospective client to see what really went on at Rinaldi Executive Search?
The last thing he’d expected to see was emptiness. As in, not only were employees not at their desks, but the desks were gone too. The blinds were open and the sunshine revealed a reception area, barren save for a broken desk stool, naked metal shelves and scuffmarks on the bamboo laminate floors marking where furniture once stood. One lonely high-walled cubicle stood outside a door that led to an inner office empty of all furnishings.
“I thought maybe we were robbed.” Danica stood behind him in the doorway, her arms protectively hugging her chest. “But...”
He shook his head. Thieves would have left a mess. “This is the work of professional movers.”