For me, it’s one of the many that Maison Valmont owns,and it’s far from the most important. Valmont is the highest valued company in Europe. There’s nothing like it; and nothing compared to the old, storied brands we already own and manage.
Mather & Wilde is a blip. A means to an end. It’s the settling of a score, the decimation of a rival, and good business. Nothing more and nothing less.
“That’s the one thing you’re good at, isn’t it? Turning a profit,” she says.
“A compliment? I’m flattered.”
She runs her hand along the edge of the armrest. The plane speeds up in sharp acceleration and her hand comes to a stop. Her fingers tighten around the edge of it, just for a second, as the plane’s wheels leave ground.
“I’d like to negotiate,” she says.
I lean back in the chair. “We’ve already negotiated. Through our lawyers.Beforewe signed the marriage contract.”
“I know. Not that we were in particularly…equalsituations,” she says. Her eyes narrow, like I’m at fault for that.
Which is true.
I have a team of eleven lawyers on retainer. The marriage contract has been thoroughly managed, sorted through, and waterproofed. My team handled all of that. The only thing Paige and her single lawyer had to do was say yes or no.
“No. We weren’t,” I say.
Her lips thin. “Will you tell me something? Now that you’ve won. Why did your father first set his sights on us?”
What a question. Maison Valmont started buying their shares over a decade ago.
I drum my fingers against the armrest. “Mather & Wilde has potential. It’s one of the few American brands with a legacy and a story behind it. That legacy was underutilized and in poor management.”
“You bought the first stake at under five per cent so you wouldn’t have to disclose ownership.”
I incline my head. Laws are meant to be followed, and we followed every single one of them. To the letter.
“And then you continued to buy shares, didn’t you?” Her voice hardens, and there’s a dripping venom beneath it. “First your father, and then you. Through trusts to hide your name. Quietly. Year after year.”
Her eyes are sharp on mine.
Let her hate me, I think. It’ll make this whole thing so much simpler, and far sweeter. I don’t particularly like her either.
“Yes,” I say. “Mather & Wilde’s leadership should have been more careful who they sold shares to. Or done well enough to not need outside investors at all.”
“It was underhanded.”
“It was legal.”
“You wrapped a noose around our necks, and then you waited until the eleventh hour before you told us about the rope,” she spits out.
“And yet you chose to take that rope, hoping we’d pull you out of the hole your uncle dug. If it wasn’t for us—if it wasn’t forme—he would have driven it into the ground. You’ve seen these numbers. You know how close your company is to the brink. That’s why you sent me the email in the first place.”
“Because you left us with no other choice butyou,” she says. If she’s expecting a strong reaction from me, she won’t get it.
I don’t lose control.
Not in boardrooms. Not in meetings. And certainly not on a plane with my newly arranged wife. The only time I let myself come apart is late at night, when I seek out pain. It’s good at reminding me of the scars I carry.
“Think what you like,” I say, and look back down at mylaptop. It’s a clear dismissal, and I’m counting on it to annoy her even more.
She’s quiet for almost a full minute.
I wonder if that’s a record for her.
