St. John laughed. “Bullshit. No one has accepted your offer.”
He was right, but Aleks had no intention of confirming his guess. If it was a guess.
St. John continued. “The smaller investors are too afraid of Portia—really, Portia’s father—to be willing to sell to a competitor. You need one of the major investors—basically me or Portia—to accept first. Then the others will fall in line.” He studied Aleks. “Am I right?”
“My understanding was that Portia’s father is... out of the picture.” The news stories from the day of Dizzie’s appearance and Tremaine’s disappearance were confusing. One or two had mentioned that blood had been found in Tremaine’s office. Phillip Tremaine’s blood.
St. John, acting in Portia’s stead, had announced her father’s disappearance, but in the days and months that followed, no other statements had been made. Everyone assumed he was dead.
Aleks wasn’t sure what to think, but without a body, Mrs. Solveig refused to believe his disappearance was so... permanent.
St. John laughed. “Phillip Tremaine was a mean bastard and until I see a body, I’m not writing him off just yet.”
Aleks was shocked to hear St. John echo his thoughts. “So, is it Phillip Tremaine you’re afraid of? Or Portia?”
St. John laughed again but his mirth wasn’t reflected in his eyes. “I’m not afraid of Portia. We’ve been friends for years. But the others? Damn right they’re scared. They don’t call her the Ice Queen for nothing.”
Aleks thought back to the time he’d spent with Portia. The Ice Queen had been on display with the man who’d hit on her at the bar and in her office when Aleks had surprised her for their meeting. But every other time they’d met, he’d enjoyed the company of a flesh and blood woman. Not a block of ice in a crown.
Aleks wasn’t stupid enough to verbalize any of this. As a longtime friend of Portia’s, St. John would probably feel duty bound to defend her, and Aleks would hate to kick his ass. Portia probably wouldn’t appreciate it either. Except he’d heard Portia and St. John were on the outs because of Dizzie, so maybe she’d be okay with it.
What the hell was he thinking, worrying about how Portia would feel about his actions?
Fuck! That wasn’t a good sign. Aleks refocused on this meeting. Despite the turmoil in his head, he kept it out of his voice. “Then how would you suggest I proceed?”
“If you were smart, you’d stop making these calls and let your employers know it isn’t happening.” St. John’s words hung in the air between them.
Aleks already knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had his orders and, as dumb as he thought they were, he would obey them. “Or you could agree to sell your shares and the others would follow suit.”
St. John sat back with a huff of laughter. “I get that you’ve got a job to do here, but don’t you see how ridiculous it is? If anything, Tremaine should be the one purchasing the Solveig Consortium.”
Aleks clenched his jaw. “I believe that was tried previously. It’s why we’re in the current mess we’re in.” He spoke without thought and regretted it immediately. How much did St. John know about the merger negotiations where Phillip Tremaine had met Anna Solveig, Dizzie’s mother?
“Ah, yes. Dizzie’s origin story.” St. John shook his head and sipped his drink again. “Past relations between the two companies were a mess to say the least, but that has nothing to do with any of us. The two companies have kept their distance—mostly—for more than two decades. Let’s just keep it that way.”
“My employers won’t agree to that.” Nothing short of wiping Tremaine from the planet would stop them.
“Then they’re idiots,” St. John said. “And it won’t end well for them.”
“Is that a threat?” Aleks asked. He wasn’t concerned, more curious than anything.
“No, I’m a realist. Coming after the Tremaines in their own city is foolish. Coming after the Tremaine Corporation at all isn’t the smart play.” He stopped abruptly, his gaze focused behind Aleks.
Aleks turned to see the waiter bringing their meals.
With practice ease, the waiter slid the plates in front of them. “Anything else I can get you gentlemen?”
“No, thank you, Michael,” St. John said.
“Enjoy.” The waiter departed after another short bow.
Aleks studied the plate before him. The salmon looked perfectly cooked. He waited for St. John to take a bite before sampling his own.
Flavors burst in his mouth. The moist, flaky fish stood up well to the citrus glaze. This was the best meal he’d had in this city so far.
“So how would you do it?” Aleks asked.
“Do what?”
