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Alessandro was nowhere to be seen, and Mia wondered what he was doing. Inspecting the ranks? Firing someone? If the rumours were true, he’d fire most of Dillard’s staff, just as he had countless other times, something she couldn’t bear to think about. She had to focus. She had a job to do.
Dillard Investments was even more of a sorry mess than he’d realised. After a morning of meeting employees and assessing the company’s condition, Alessandro Costa felt nothing but a scathing derision for Henry Dillard, a man whose affable exterior hid a terrible weakness—a weakness that had caused the inevitable loss of his company, his clients’ assets, and the well-being of his employees. The man had the appearance of a lovable teddy bear, but Alessandro was glad he’d put an end to his benevolent ineptitude.
By refusing to keep up with the times and seek out new opportunities and investments, Henry Dillard had been slowly, or not so slowly, running his company as well as his clients’ portfolios into the red, content to live off his dwindling profits and focus on his golf game. If Alessandro hadn’t taken over the company, someone else surely would have.
Better, though, that it was him. This was his field of expertise, after all, and what he’d made his life’s mission: taking over failing or corrupt companies and turning them into something useful, or else dismantling them completely.
As Alessandro knew and had seen, over and over again, the opportunity of defeating the enemy lay within the enemy himself…discovering his weaknesses and finding his vulnerabilities. It was a concept from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, and what Alessandro had learned long ago was that not only was business war, but life was war, a battle fought every day, and he had the scars to prove it. Yes, life was war… And he was in it to win.
At least a third of the employees he’d met with today would have to be fired. It seemed as if Dillard had never let anyone go, whether out of sentimentality, stupidity, or just sheer laziness Alessandro didn’t know or particularly care.
He always tried to keep redundancies to a minimum, preferring to transfer people to other positions within his portfolio of companies, but many of the staff he’d met here clearly didn’t deserve such an opportunity. Dillard’s PA, Mia James, being a notable exception…
Surprisingly, reluctantly, Alessandro had been intrigued by her. She was beautiful in a very boring, very English way—straight blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, a clear, healthy complexion, a tall and athletic figure, without any noticeable curves. Competent…in every way, and not the kind of woman that usually sparked his sensual interest.
She was the kind of woman, Alessandro reflected, who had probably been captain of her hockey team at school, who hiked on weekends and had had crushes on horses rather than boys growing up. Who would marry a suitable man and have the requisite two children, a boy and a girl. No one, clearly, whom he would let himself be interested in, much less pursue.
Yet she’d intrigued him. And he didn’t like to be intrigued, especially not by a PA whom he would most likely transfer as soon as possible, because he worked best alone. Always had, always would, in every way possible. That was the only way he knew how to conduct his life, learned in childhood and honed to a highly polished skill in adulthood, and he didn’t see it changing. Ever.
Mia James was waiting for him in Dillard’s office when he walked in an hour after he’d last seen her, to the minute. Alessandro always kept to time, kept his word. Stayed in control, even in such seemingly small, incidental matters, as a point of principle, a matter of pride.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Do you have the files?’
She’d risen from her chair as he’d entered, making him notice, rather unwillingly, her long, slender legs encased in sheer black tights, her feet in low black heels. She wore a black pencil skirt and blazer, a crisp white blouse, a simple gold pendant at her throat. Her long, wheat-coloured hair was caught cleanly behind in a clip. He could not fault anything about her, and yet he still felt discomfited. Irritated, even, by his own interest as much as her presence.
He didn’t let people affect him. He didn’t do emotions, and he most definitely didn’t act on them. His own unsettled childhood was testament to the power of emotions, as well as the danger, which was why he behaved in a tightly controlled way that made sense. Because Alessandro Costa needed to be in control. Always.
‘I have everything right here,’ Mia said, her voice calm and cool. Unflappable, unlike how he was feeling, which annoyed him further. ‘Personal files and relevant information on Dillard’s ten most important clients.’
‘And how did you determine they were the most important?’ Alessandro asked, his voice something close to a snap.
Her clear blue gaze met his; she seemed untroubled by his tone. ‘They are the largest investors, and they’ve been with Dillard’s the longest amount of time.’
‘Everyone’s been with Dillard’s since the time of dinosaurs,’ Alessandro returned, his irritation making him more callous than he normally would have let himself be. ‘That’s the nature of the place.’
‘Dillard’s longevity is one of its points of pride,’ Mia agreed, her voice—and what a low, pleasant voice it was—carefully equable. She would not rise to his irritable bait. Another point in her favour, yet unreasonably this just annoyed him further.
He sprawled in the chair behind the desk, beckoning her forward with one hand. ‘So show me.’
Mia hesitated for the barest of seconds—hardly noticeable except Alessandro felt so weirdly attuned to her—and then she scooped up the pile of folders and walked around to his side of the desk, placing them in front of him and then flipping the first one open.
‘James Davis, a millionaire who set up his own company to manage his financial interests. Inherited money. Generous to a fault. Affable and easy-going but very little common sense. Happy to follow a lead, generally speaking.’
Alessandro was silent, reluctantly impressed by how quickly and clearly she’d summed up the client. Given him all the relevant information, without anything unnecessary, exactly as he would have wanted. So few people impressed him, but Mia James had. In more ways than one.
He glanced down at the top sheet detailing the man’s investments but the figures blurred in front of him as he inhaled Mia James’s scent—something understated and citrusy. She was standing quite close to him, her breasts on a level with his gaze. Not that he was looking, but he did notice how the crisp white cotton with discreet pin tucks highlighted her trim figure. Perhaps curves were overrated.
What was he thinking?
Now seriously annoyed with himself and his unruly thoughts, Alessandro flipped through the pages, skimming all the relevant details with more focus than usual. ‘He’s operating at a loss,’ he observed after a moment.
‘Yes.’ Another tiny hesitation. ‘Many of Dillard’s clients are, in the current financial climate. Henry—Mr Dillard—was confident things would bounce back, or at least even out, in the next eighteen months.’
When he would have been retired, with no need to worry about the financial markets or how they were affecting his clients. Alessandro had spoken to Henry Dillard on the phone yesterday, when the takeover had been complete. He always tried to treat his adversaries with dignity, especially when he’d won, which he always did.
Dillard had been furious to be bested by someone he considered his social inferior—and had made that quite clear. Alessandro had taken it in his stride; it was hardly unusual when he chose to target companies run by men like Henry Dillard—entitled, wealthy, and weak. He almost felt sorry for the man; he hadn’t been corrupt, like some of the CEOs Alessandro had taken down, just inept. He’d frittered away his family’s company, indifferent to his clients’ needs, and now he was angry that someone he didn’t think deserved his company had won it fairly. Alessandro had no respect for such people. He’d dealt with too many in his life—first as a child, when he’d had no power, and then as a man, when he’d made sure that he did.
‘Eighteen months is a lifetime in the stock market,’ he told Mia. ‘Henry Dillard should have known that.’
