Lucius (Acquisition 4)

The glass door to my right swings open and I turn. Sinclair and Teddy Vinemont stroll in. Sinclair doesn’t even look at me, and Teddy gives me a neutral expression as they walk to the empty seats.

“Began without us?” Sinclair sinks down and steeples his fingers before giving me an appraising glance. “And having your college intern give your sales pitch?” He smirks.

“This is Evelyn Delacroix,” Linton says, his calm tone almost grating. “She’s the owner of Del—”

“Delacroix. Yes, I follow.” Sinclair flicks the prospectus across the table where it lands at the transcriptionist’s feet. “I trust the board knows what’s best for this company. The same thing that’s been best for this company for decades—the Vinemonts.”

I clear my throat and look everywhere but at the brothers. “As I was saying, Parade Pecans was drowning in debt, had distribution problems, and an entrenched family at the top levels. However, once Delacroix took charge—”

“Not going to wait for the chairman of the board?” Sinclair’s smirk is still in place.

He’s not coming. “This meeting started at eight. If the chairman was interested in the future of his company, then he’d be here. As it is …” I smile, but this time all my girlishness is gone. “As I said, when families become entrenched at the top of an organization, the business tends to suffer as do its investors. Delacroix is here to help.”

Sinclair chuckles low in his throat, then pins me with his gaze again. His eyes narrow. “Don’t I know you, Ms. Delacroix?”

The hair on the back of my neck rises, but not because of his question. No. It’s because of the heavy footsteps I hear in the hall and the shadow that falls across the glass door.

I turn and freeze as Lucius Vinemont pulls the door open with a slight wince.

Alive. He’s alive.

He strides to the open chair and takes his seat, then levels a Cheshire grin at me. “So, Evelyn, what did I miss?”

7

Lucius

It’s her. My mind whispers that phrase over and over as Evelyn Delacroix gives her pitch to the board about why we should allow her to take control of the company. I can’t concentrate on her numbers, because I’m far too busy with her figure. It’s the one from last night. Same high, round tits and hips that are made for a man like me. The same one that tried to put a bullet in my heart.

I scrutinize her face. She’s familiar, but I’d remember a woman like her if I’d ever had her underneath me. Who is she?

I pull out my phone and look at the dossier prepared by our attorneys concerning her company. Plenty of capital on-hand, good financials, strong performance. I flip to the page on management but find only a generic paragraph about Evelyn. No information, no notion of where the hell she came from except for receiving a degree from some Northeastern blueblood school and moving right into starting her own company and making a mint. How the fuck does a twenty-four-year-old manage that on her own?

“Magnolia’s cash on hand and rare property holdings make it a perfect target for plenty of other companies to buy it up. After all, you own or lease some of the most productive sugar cane plantations in the world. But—” She shoots a pointed look at me. “You’re also bogged down by a heavy-handed family that is entrenched in the business to its detriment. As primary shareholder, Delacroix would revamp Magnolia until it is performing at its most profitable levels. However, should you refuse this offer, who’s to say that another firm won’t come along, win a proxy fight, take the company, then sell off the lands, leases, and assets piece by piece until there’s nothing left?”

She flips to a page in her prospectus. “The answer is ‘you can’t’. But that’s where I can …”

I shoot Sin a text.

Lucius: She’s the one.

He arches a brow then responds.

Sinclair: You going to propose?

Lucius: No, asshole. She’s the one who tried to kill me last night.

Sinclair: She’s trying to kill this company right now.

“ … numbers clearly show there is plenty of room for improvement to—”

“Ms. Delacroix, sorry to interrupt, but you have absolutely zero knowledge of what it takes to run a business like this.” I keep my tone level.

She turns to me, her blue eyes keen in the morning light. “My degrees and track record say otherwise. Whereas you have nothing other than wealth and a company handed down to you, I have the ability to understand the inner workings and make changes for the better. Your family ties to this business are a noose around its neck.”

I stand, looming over her. “A bullet through its heart, you mean?”

She swallows hard but doesn’t back down. “Use whatever turn of phrase you like, Mr. Vinemont, but this company is not living up to its shareholders’ expectations. If it were, I wouldn’t be here.”