Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(61)
Author: Jen Frederick

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

“THE 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.

MID-MORNING SATURDAY, FRANK 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.