Page 30 of The Dauntless (Spy Girl 5)
“Do you think that’s how my father would have voted?”
Malcolm considers my question for a moment. “He would have voted for what was right.”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” I reply with a grin.
“Does that mean you’ll be at the meeting tomorrow, voting your shares?”
“Yes, Ari and I will be.” My phone dings, indicating that my driver is here.
“Where are you off to?” he asks.
“I’m having lunch with Royston Bessemer.”
Malcolm smiles at the name. “The Speaker of the House and the third most powerful man in Washington. I’d be impressed, but I think there’s more to it than that. I saw the photo of you and Peter at a recent engagement party. Does my son have a thing for his granddaughter?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” I say with a smile. “But I think he does indeed.”
Malcolm stays motionless after Huntley leaves, what she said about her father still resonating with him.
“Do you think that’s how my father would have voted?”
To be honest, he’s not sure if Ares would have voted that way if he were still alive. Ares was concerned for the greater good. His inventions always had a cause, a backstory.
But there is a lot riding on this.
He picks up his phone and makes a call to Harrison McClellan. “The director of the CIA told Huntley Von Allister that she should vote for the TerraSphere contract renewal. He told her it was a matter of national security. She and her brother intend to be at the meeting and vote their shares, meaning your proxy will no longer be valid.”
“You know what this project means for all of us,” McClellan replies.
“I do, sir.”
“Then you’d better make sure she votes right,” the man says, abruptly ending their call.
Malcolm sets the phone down, pours himself a stiff drink, and wonders again if what they are doing in Montrovia is really what Ares would have wanted.
He knows it will make the world a better place, if it doesn’t all blow up in their faces.
Lunch is at the kind of quiet, out-of-the-way place only regulars know about. The interior is plush, the service is impeccable, and the food is practically divine—and the company, well, it includes both Royston as well as his granddaughter, Blair.
We have a delightful time, discussing topics from our upcoming weddings to the latest DC gossip and everything in between.
It’s not until after we’ve finished lunch, dessert, and coffee that Royston asks to see the legal documents. At this point, Blair excuses herself but not before asking me to join her in wedding dress shopping.
Royston puts on a pair of reading glasses, gets a pen and a legal pad out of his briefcase, and goes over the lengthy document.
I sit in silence, not wanting to interrupt, as I wonder if the document he’s reading is even legal.
Black X could have sent me anything they wanted. They would have known, if we went to the board meeting, all this would come up, and they could have had time to alter Ares’s original plans, whatever they were.
Although, honestly, at this point, it probably doesn’t even matter.
After nearly thirty minutes of scratching on the paper, going back and forth between the document and his notes, and reading, he finally hands me back the document.
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“Your assets are held in the Von Allister trust, and although you have the power to empty the trust, I highly suggest that you don’t. With your father’s business, it could leave you open to financial ruin.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. You might not understand how a trust works, but they are put in place to protect a family’s wealth through the generations. It can protect their assets in everything from a nasty divorce to a substantial lien. Say a Von Allister drone blew up over a school and someone tried to sue you in civil court, whatever is in your trust cannot be touched. Only your non-trust assets.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. Leave the money in the trust.”
“Yes. And the trust is holistic, meaning it owns all your father’s assets. Including his homes.”
“Homes?”
“Yes.” He consults his notes. “Seven properties are listed—high-value estates in the District of Columbia, Montrovia, and Scotland; two smaller properties in DC; and vacation homes in Anguilla and France,” he says.
It takes all my willpower not to just laugh out loud. Of course, the villa has always been owned by Ares. It has a vault. It’s set up just like his home in DC.
How did I not catch that?
We were told we were renting the villa, and then Lorenzo bought and gifted me something I’d already owned.
“You seem surprised.”
“Learning you are the child of a billionaire is hard to wrap your head around,” I say simply.
“I’m sure it is, but let’s get to the important part—your father’s company. The trust declares quite a few stipulations regarding the stock. First of all, regardless of how you and your brother might choose to split up the other assets, you cannot split the shares. They also have to be voted as a block. While it’s preferred that you and your brother are in agreement, you have been named executor of those shares.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you and your brother don’t agree, one of you has to make the ultimate decision of how to vote. That person is you.”
“Is there anything else of note?”
“Actually, yes. It’s in regard to a joint venture controlled by Von Allister Industries. The trust document, if I’m reading it right, and I think I am, states that upon Ares’s death, you can force the other partners to sell you their shares at a predetermined price that was set forth in the joint venture agreement.”
“What joint venture?”
“Something called Sphere Technologies.”
“Guess I need to find out what that is, huh?” I say even though I know exactly what it’s referencing—the one between my father, Malcolm, and Aleksandr.
“If you want to be involved in the business, yes, you should find out everything. If you don’t want to be, that’s okay, too. Your father would understand. When men build things, they say they are doing it for future generations, but often, they are really doing it for themselves. Powerful men seek to preserve what they have created and control what they haven’t. This trust is your father’s way of trying to preserve and control from the grave. Just remember that he gave you the power to change all of it. Ares had his life. It’s up to you to decide what you will create out of yours.”
“Thank you, Speaker Bessemer. I really appreciate you taking the time to go over this with me.” I give him a sincere smile. “And for the advice. You’re a powerful man. I’m sure you sometimes feel like you don’t know who you should trust.”
He puts everything back in his briefcase and stands up. “Go with your gut and watch your back, Huntley. It’s all we can do in life. I’ll see you tomorrow at the board meeting.”
“Guess who I just got a text from,” I say with a smile aimed directly at Peter when I return to the Prescott home and plop down on the couch next to him.
“Who?”
“Blair. Guess what else.”
“You going to ask her to be your bridesmaid?” he teases.
“No, I invited her to go to the Grand Prix with us.”
“You what? No! I can’t have them—”
“I didn’t say them. I invited her. Today, at lunch.”
“But I thought you were having—”
“Lunch with her grandfather. I did. She tagged along on his trip to London to do some preliminary wedding dress shopping. She has appointments at all the big designers and invited me to go with her.”
His eyes get huge. “And are you going?”
“Yes. Her grandfather said that marrying Daniel is like marrying royalty and that I need a very special—in other words, expensive—designer dress. Danie
l wants to get married quickly. Right after the Olympics. So …”
“Tell me you aren’t pregnant.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
Peter astutely studies me. “You are trying to make Lorenzo jealous then.”
I shrug, not answering. It’s not my place to tell him about Daniel and Lizzie.
“When are you going shopping?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got plans tonight, and then I’m going to Lorenzo’s. I have clothes and stuff there that I need to gather up. I saw a thing in the press that Lizzie is having fittings in Montrovia, so I’m sure they won’t be in town.”
