The churn in her stomach grew into a tangle of thorny brambles.
“Why is it that you’re targeting Pagonis?” she asked, lifting her brows in absent interest. “Cosmetics and biotechnology fall outside the Vasilou bailiwick, doesn’t it?” His conglomerate took on large infrastructure projects like bridges and airports.
“I want to take back what’s mine and destroy the rest,” he said very casually, as though mentioning his errands for the day.
Her blood went cold as she began to see where Midas was dragging her. Here was the cliff, and its churning sea was in Leander’s eyes, mercilessly crashing against sharp rocks.
“What, um, what exactly is yours?” she inquired, fighting to keep a level tone.
“The speech recognition technology that your brother ‘developed’ sixteen years ago.” He only curled the fingers on one hand to indicate the air quotes, not even lifting the heel of his palm off the blotter on his desk. Contempt dripped off his tongue. “Most of the credit goes to my father, but I worked with him on it. Then Midas talked us into allowing him to assist us with taking it to market. That was the last we saw of him or any profit we should have earned.”
Of course, Midas had stolen that technology. She kicked herself for not seeing it long before now, but she had still been at boarding school when he had been impressing their father with his business acumen. Then she had focused on building her own enterprise, distancing herself as much as possible from Midas and the corporate headquarters, not wanting to work at Pagonis International because she would have to work directly under Midas.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re coming after my company, rather than some of the subsidiaries that Midas controls,” she said.
“I entered the door that was open. Your shares aren’t as expensive or well-protected against speculative trading. Which doesn’t make sense to me when your company has been infusing the mother ship with much-needed cash for over a year.”
It made sense if he knew her family, but she didn’t let their greed and scorn of her value distract her in this moment.
“Your intention is to persuade the board to sell you its share in Callas Cosmetics and take it over from me? Then what do you plan to do with it?”
“Let it wither and die.”
That pushed her onto her back foot. “Why?” she asked with anxious bafflement. “You just called it a cash cow.”
“Because I want your family to know that I don’t need it the way you do. I want it to hurt. I want you all to feel sickened at the mistake you made, living off the fruits of my father’s labor, stealing the credit and driving him to ruin.”
The gravel rolling in her middle stopped. It became heavy and nauseatingly hard, but at least it was a feeling she was used to. This was very familiar ground.
“Your takeover is motivated by vindictiveness,” she acknowledged.
“Yes.” No hesitation or apology.
Perhaps he was entitled to his antipathy, but she hadn’t stolen from his father. There was no defusing hate, though. Ilona had learned that with Odessa. It didn’t matter that Ilona was her father’s mistake. Ilona had always borne the brunt of Odessa’s resentment.
That seemed to be what Leander had in store for her. He would take the majority share in Callas Cosmetics, then force her to watch as he ran it into the ground. That would crush her, given she had built it from a patch of dry skin on her cheek to a global enterprise.
A familiar despair at injustice floated around the edges of her periphery, but she mentally batted it away. Crying or fighting against the bullies of the world had never served her. The best she could do was soften the punch and get away as quickly as possible.
“I don’t want innocent employees to lose their jobs.” She made her decision with the swiftness of self-preservation and acted on it before second thoughts could creep in. “Our customers depend on the efficacy of our products, especially those with facial scars and burn injuries. It would be a shame to deny them something they need. I propose you buy my shares.”
He snorted and his chair squeaked as he threw himself back in it. “I know what it looks like when a rat jumps ship, Ilona.”
No fernlike tickle when he said her name this time. She was nothing but granite inside, hardened with resolve.
“I propose that you buy my shares for the amount my father gave me when he approved my business plan. That was one hundred thousand euros of start-up capital and a fifteen percent share. I don’t know what I’ll do next, but I’m happy to maintain those terms on any venture I pursue.” A café, for instance. With dolmades served on hand-thrown crockery.
He was taken aback, not that he showed it, but he went very still and his eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what the catch might be.
She enlightened him. “In return I would insist you hire a qualified CEO and do everything in your power to keep Callas Cosmetics thriving.”
“Your forty-five percent is worth ten million euros.”
“Yes, I know.” She offered a flat smile. “And I assure you that if you pursue the Pagonis shares just so you can destroy Callas, I will drive up the price until you pay thirty million for fifteen percent. Or you may have forty-five for one hundred thousand. My research tells me you’re a shrewd negotiator. Well done.”
“Your negotiation skills are terrible. What would you get out of that?”
Freedom.