Page 19 of Vivacity
I’m smiling at him when he stops abruptly in front of me and gestures at the seat in front of his desk—the one he occupied as he watched me strip.
‘Have a seat.’
It’s definitely not a request. Okay then. Even by his standards, he seems extra pissy this morning, and I wonder what’s crawled up his arse over the weekend.
I head over and sink into the chair, crossing my legs alluringly. Ethan doesn’t go around to his side, instead standing next to me and turning the huge monitor so I have a clear view of it. There’s a Zoom call live with several suits, all at their desks.
What the fuck? I didn’t have Ethan down as an exhibitionist, but if he wants to fuck me over his desk while his pals watch, I’m game.
Ethan unmutes us and hinges forward, planting his palms on the marble. ‘Thanks for holding. I’m with my new executive assistant, Sophia Petrakis. Sophia, these gentlemen are from our banking team at Loeb. We’re in the early stages of a large transaction, and I need to get you wall-crossed asap.’
My years in investment banking have familiarised me with the intricacies of M&A and of the wall-crossing process. With any merger or acquisition or other material transaction, especially one involving companies whose stocks are publicly traded, strict Chinese walls must exist to separate those with theknowledge of market-sensitive information from those who buy and sell stocks. So when someone is brought over the wall—i.e. given access to this private information—it has to be rigorously documented.
Even as my pussy mourns this delay of sexy times, my business brain kicks into gear at the promise of being let in on a juicy secret. Was this the “work crisis” he alluded to last week in our interview?
I lean forward and address the guys on the screens. I swear one of them is staring straight at my tits. ‘So what’s the transaction?’
Ethan answers for them, and I crane my neck to look up at him. So near and yet so far… from being railed. ‘Last week, we proposed a friendly takeover to the board of The Montague Group following its recent share price weakness.’
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I haven’t seen Theo or his brother since I’ve been back, but the devastating planning setbacks they’re suffering have been all over the financial press. ‘Got it.’
He continues curtly. ‘They spent this weekend holed up in talks, and they let us know late last night that they’ve rejected our proposal outright… so now we go full hostile.’
I sit back in my chair.
Holyshit.
Miles Montague must be spitting fire. The Montagues donothold the Kingsleys in high regard.
‘But you won’t announce it yet,’ I hazard as I process this information. ‘Not until you hit the threshold.’
The UK’s financial regulator, the FCA, allows companies to build a stake in another company of up to three percent before triggering the requirement to disclose this publicly. The second the market gets wind of an acquisition, hedge funds and risk arbitrage funds will go crazy, shovelling up the target’s stock asa bet that the buyer will have to pay an even higher price and they’ll lock in a profit. So it stands to reason that the more stock the Kingsleys can accumulate on the quiet before that happens, the better—and cheaper—for them.
He nods curtly. ‘Precisely.’
‘We’re already at nought-point-four percent as of the close on Friday,’ one of the bankers announces with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘And our traders will continue to maintain a decent share of the trading volume over the next couple of days, so?—’
‘Hang on.’ Ethan’s voice is quiet, but, beside me, his entire body has gone ominously still. Stiff. ‘Who authorised them to start buying?’
‘Richard sent through the instructions on Thursday,’ the banker says, the smirk instantly replaced with a nervous frown.
‘Of course. Keep me posted as you buy. I want updates twice a day. Now, let’s get this wall-crossing submitted.’
I turn my attention to the iPad lying on the desk in front of me and sign the document electronically. Loeb’s Compliance department now has a record of when I gained access to this privileged and highly sensitive information.
As soon as the call concludes, Ethan pushes off the desk and rounds it, sinking into his own chair. He hits a button on his console. ‘Topher. Ask my father to come in right away, would you?’
I survey him from across the desk. He’s grabbed the arms of his chair and is white-knuckling them, his jaw working.
‘There’d be a lot of cost efficiencies to come out of a deal like that,’ I muse aloud, not taking my eyes off him.
‘One of the many reasons they’ve rejected our advances, I’ll warrant,’ he says shortly. It makes sense. The Montagues have a widespread reputation in the industry for treating their people like family. They can’t possibly want the Kingsleys wading in and giving thousands of employees the axe.
‘Do you think the rejection was a knee-jerk reaction? Because no matter how much they hate the idea of you acquiring them, it would make a lot of sense.’
His tone is even. ‘If it is, then they’re guilty of putting their own interests above their shareholders. But no matter. We approached them in good faith, and they’ve insisted on doing things the hard way. Now the market gets to decide.’
I screw up my face, trying to remember the Montague ownership structure. ‘How much does the family still own?’
