Page 61 of Morally Black Betrothal
“I do. If anything, we should be trimming the fat. Adopting more austere measures until Niall’s back so that shareholders don’t scare.”
“Measures like what?” Owen’s tone was bordering on nasty. The guy always had to spoil for a fight, like we were still kids forced to spar in the backyard.
“Seriously, don’t bother,” Ronan muttered. “He’s got the old guys on his side now.”
Kefler, however, kept going like my brothers and I weren’t engaging in our daily power struggle. “The luxury food sector of Blackguard has a lot of potential for cutbacks. But the most obvious deadweight is in the property. We’re losing millions on taxes alone.”
“Real estate ismydivision, not Joe’s,” Owen cut in, his voice sharpened like a weapon. “Plans have already been drawn up for four different luxury developments under the Ventnor brand. Two in the Catskills, one in Maine, another in Vermont. We’re creating a whole new form of ecotourism for the Northeast. You have to think beyond the next quarter.”
“Is all the property secured?” I asked. “That was an issue the last time you wanted us to vote.”
Owen looked uneasy. “Most. The rest…we bought a bunch of bad mortgages. But that’s the whole point of this acquisition. We buy the mortgages, and then?—”
“Evict the owners if they don’t do what we want with the land?” I interrupted.
Shea looked genuinely shocked. “Do we really do that? Evict, like, families and stuff just to make money?”
“Welcome to reality, Pollyanna.” Ronan patted her on the head like a child.
I didn’t even bother to answer her. Shea only attended board meetings when she was forced to vote. I didn’t think she’d ever come to one of these non-voting meetings, but since seeing Dad in the hospital, she’d renewed her quest to become his princess again.
It wouldn’t last. It never did.
“Dad signed off on it,” Owen pointed out. “Just like he has signed off on every other expansion of this project. This has been in the works for years, Brendan.”
“That’s irrelevant.” I stopped pacing and braced my hands on the back of my chair. “The time to prove yourself is over. It didn’t work. Time to move on. You’ll have another chance to prove yourself.”
Owen’s face flushed the approximate color of one of the red brick buildings circling Copley Square. “How fucking dare you?—”
“Besides Dad has only signed off on selling mortgages, not assuming debt.” I straightened and started a lap around the table. “I would be shocked if he knows you want to turn us into slumlords.”
“I don’t want to turn us into?—”
I turned to Liza before he could finish. “What can we lose quickly? Something that will appease the board but won’t look too bad on the bottom line. I don’t want to take a hit on the market when this falls through.”
Liza tapped away on her computer. “Off the top of my head, investments in the cheese, wool, and syrup pipelines in New England haven’t been panning out. Some in New Hampshire and Connecticut, but mostly in Vermont. Farms that are justsitting there while we wait to see if they are going to produce anything.”
“But we just made those investments last year!” Owen exploded. “It’s too early to abandon ship. Or did you forget that luxury goods take time to make despite being in the fucking business of luxury?”
“I don’t give a shit if we make a profit on cutting grass as long as it benefits shareholders. Project time is over, Owen. Your plans need to work, or they’re toast.” I turned back to Liza. “What do you recommend? Sell or evict?”
Liza tipped her head back and forth. “We could just consolidate. Sell the less profitable farms to the ones that are already profitable. Trim workers instead of assets. It won’t affect our total holdings, but it would increase our profit margins in the short term.”
Owen looked like he was about to erupt. “That literally defeats the whole concept of the small, luxury travel niche we are trying to promote. It’s the entire brand identity of the project.”
I didn’t bother to respond. “Liza, draw up the contracts and get me a list of properties marked for consolidation, and we’ll sell them in bulk. Instead of finishing Ventnor, see if there are any other developers willing to bite on the assets or the plans. That should make shareholders happy.”
The people in the room that I was related to didn’t look the slightest bit happy. Everyone else seemed to think it was a good idea, though, so my siblings could fuck off. As heads of their own divisions, they were generally only concerned with their personal projects, not the company as a whole.
That was my job now. Or would be, come Wednesday. Especially if Simone came through.
Fuck. I had to stop thinking about her.
“I already have that list,” Liam called out from the end of the table, where he sat with the other lawyers. After he finishedlaw school, Liza had lobbied for her son to work in the legal department, and after almost ten years at Blackguard, this was his first executive meeting.
He slid the document to me, and I paged through the list.
Jesus, Owen had accumulated quite a hoard. Farms, mostly. Commercial buildings. Some properties that included bed-and-breakfasts or artisanal operations. Like my own family business, they represented the blood, sweat, and tears of generations, and most combined people’s homes with their livelihoods.
