Gold Digger (18 page)

London on the company dime was something else. Nikolai pulled his tie loose the moment he reached his room in the St. Martins Lane hotel, a stupidly modern five-star within walking distance of Westminster, and checked his cell phone.

He’d texted Henri the name of the hotel and the room number, and he was half-hoping for a response. Just a few emails and texts and calls since they’d met the last time, but part of him craved a great deal
more
. At least whenever he had a moment in between all the stupid meetings. Whenever an investor asked casually about LeBeau Mining, the name went right through Nikolai like a hot needle.

And yeah, of course, LeBeau Mining had acquired just over twenty percent of Cybele in the last few days, pushing the stock price up thirty percent while the whole sector moved down or sideways at best, which made most people keen to sell, and a few contrarians keen to buy.

They’d gone from meeting to meeting, brokerage to investment bank to pension fund, then met analysts for coffee or lunch, and now Nikolai’s feet hurt from the polished leather shoes. He wanted nothing more than to fall on his bed, but they had to prepare for a meeting with some Aureus people, and that was probably the most important meeting of them all.

There was a lot of talk with their lawyers—of poison pills and other dastardly defensive moves against the hostile takeover. The problem was, there was no way to defend against the takeover itself. Even the stock options plan written into Cybele’s structure only meant that LBM would pay significantly more than the current stock price, as inflated as it was. But even if they paid a one hundred percent premium, LBM would barely feel it. Cybele wasn’t worth that much, but this was no longer about the pure mathematics of the takeover. The elder LeBeau had a history of overpaying for assets he really wanted. When they talked to their largest shareholders, asking them not to sell, nobody was surprised.

Nikolai felt rather like he was back on the piste with Anya—outgunned, out-maneuvered, but above all, he just didn’t have the same passion for winning. And there were several ways for LBM to win. They could buy the stock outright until they had enough voting rights to take control of the board and simply fire Ruslan, or get enough of the shareholders behind the plan without actually buying more of the company than they already had. Nikolai assumed that the elder LeBeau would go for option one, but that wasn’t a given. Nobody was keeping LeBeau from calling up their shareholders and making some kind of shady deal with them. Going public had been the original sin. Now Cybele was at the mercy of strangers.

A corporate war was terribly exhausting; just too many unknowns, too many double-faced lies. Nikolai couldn’t help but admire Ruslan’s stoic patience with the process, given that it was his baby that was on the line. They made a good team in those meetings; Ruslan was the quiet but charismatic guy who spoke slowly and carefully after due consideration, while Nikolai handled the small stuff, the questions, keeping Ruslan’s back free so he could focus on the big issues.

Back in his hotel room, Nikolai pulled off his jacket and the shirt underneath, washed up, used deodorant, and then selected a freshly ironed shirt. Thank God for laundry service—he’d have run out long ago. He buttoned up and took the jacket on the way down to the hotel restaurant. Maybe he’d even manage to wrangle a day’s holiday (or three) out of Ruslan to enjoy the city itself, but he’d approach that topic after the corporate battle was over.

He found Ruslan in the lounge, demolishing a plate of finger food, mostly vegetables cut into sticks. After spending days in air-conditioned meeting rooms with tea and coffee and cookies, carrots and celery looked a great deal more appealing than they normally would.

Ruslan was making notes with one hand and eating with the other. His ability to focus on several things at once was disconcerting at times, but Nikolai had long agreed with Tamás that Ruslan was simply a genius.

“Hi, Nikolai. Well. Apparently, the takeover story is now in the news.”

“Who told you?”

“Editor of
Mining & Exploration Week
.” Ruslan nodded to a smart-looking woman in her forties at the bar nursing what looked like a martini. “She asked me for a comment and told me she’s breaking the story in the next issue and online tomorrow. It’ll attract even more attention.”

“Means the stock price will go up further.”

“Yes, most likely. There’ll be some risk-takers who’ll ride the volatility.” Ruslan typed a number into his phone’s calculator app, then scribbled the result down. “It’s always a possibility to just exit now.”

Nikolai paused, then shook his head as if he had water in his ears. “What? You’re not thinking of selling, are you?”

“This might be the highest the price is going to be for a while, especially with the stock options thrown in. And, of course, it would mean cashing out now rather than in a few years’ time. Hanging around that long when it’s no longer our company . . .”

“No. Cybele is like a part of my family. Just less weird and destructive, I guess,” he conceded immediately. “For once in my life, I’ve found people I like . . . I trust. I’m not giving Cybele up. Or you.”

Ruslan eyed him wearily from under drooping eyebrows. He looked like a farmer or horse trader of years gone by, Nikolai sometimes thought. Unkempt, dark hair shot through with silver, sunken eyes a light brown, a pointy, triangular nose, and a stocky build, his small, fleshy hands holding a great deal of strength. He managed to look rumpled in a freshly pressed thousand-dollar suit, too. “We can always start again.”

“Weren’t we going to meet the Aureus people for dinner?”

Ruslan fished under his pile of papers and pulled out a salmon-colored segment of the
Financial Times
.

The headline caught Nikolai’s attention.
Strike at largest mine sends Aureus stock down 5%.

“They cancelled dinner,” Ruslan said laconically.

“The fuckers are bowing out?”

“Thanks to the mass strike, which involves police action and dead miners, Aureus has a great deal of its own problems. It’s even possible that Cybele would look bad now getting into bed with
them
. Depending on how they manage their own crisis.”

“Fuck!” Nikolai gritted his teeth. “And of course, once things calm down, it might be too late to help us. And they can probably find similar prospects elsewhere where the share price hasn’t skyrocketed.”

“That’s it.” Ruslan glanced at the
Financial Times
headline. “Perfect storm and all.”

“Damn. All this . . . for nothing, then?”

Ruslan shrugged. “We didn’t make this game, Kolya. If it’s just about replacing me, maybe we can strike a deal. Nobody else is going to bite.”

“No.” Nikolai rubbed his face, thoughts tumbling over how he could get Ruslan to stand up and fight for the company—his life’s work and achievement. “It’s a good fucking company, Ruslan. We can’t just let them harvest all your hard work.”

His phone buzzed, and he tried to ignore it, but it had thrown him off the mental rail, so he muttered, “Sorry,” and took the call. “Yes?”

“Where are you, sexy?” Henri’s voice, a low purr that made Nikolai’s hair stand on end, but in a good way. Instinctively, he turned around, and he saw a dark-haired guy just walking in. Yep, Henri.

“Holy shit, you’re the most accomplished stalker I’ve ever met.”

“It’s not stalking if you like it,” Henri responded and ended the call, coming toward him with a smile.

Nikolai glanced at Ruslan, who looked questioning. This might be difficult to explain. “Um. Ruslan.”

Henri came closer. Ruslan stood when Henri arrived at their table. “Ruslan, this is Henri LeBeau, Henri, Ruslan Polunin.”

“I know,” Ruslan said. “Saw his photo on LBM’s corporate website.”

Henri smiled, but not too brightly; this smile was all business. “Mr. Polunin. I’m glad to finally get to meet you.”

“Mr. LeBeau. Please sit with us. I assume you have a reason for being here?”

“Several,” Henri responded smoothly. “And, gladly. I could use a drink after the flight. But first I’d like to snatch Nikolai away for five minutes, if that’s okay?”

Ruslan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Nikolai?”

“It’s personal. I know this looks weird, but
this
is personal. Right, Henri?”

“Oh yes.” Henri gave him a quizzical look and then gently pulled Nikolai away to a corner of the bar, out of sight of both the journalist and Ruslan. God knew what either of them would make of the up-and-coming hope of LBM meeting either Ruslan or himself in London, hotbed of European finance. Nobody would believe it was about sex.

“What the hell are you thinking, Henri? This looks like I made a deal with the enemy.”

“He doesn’t know you’re gay?”

“I’m not gay. If anything, I’m bisexual, and no, the matter never came up.”

“Oops,” Henri said under his breath. “Sorry about that. Of course not. And that’s fine. Hardly anybody knows that about me, either.”

Nikolai glanced toward the bar. “Well, yeah. I mean, I trust Ruslan. Why on earth are you here?”

“I fully intend to have hot monkey sex with you in this hotel, but before that, I’m taking care of business.” Henri’s agitation was odd and endearing, so very him, and Nikolai found himself smiling. “Cute” wasn’t a word for Henri, but damn, he was a manly version of that.

“Okay. I’m up for the sex. But before that?”

Henri briefly pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Nikolai.”

“Um. Likewise.” He glanced around, wondered if a hotel bar with business types and at least one editor was quite the right place for this. But he didn’t care if that outed him. Likely it wouldn’t be news that
Mining & Exploration Week
would cover.

“Okay.” Henri looked like he was bracing himself. “How serious are we?”

“You mean, I don’t know, relationship?”

Henri nodded.

“There’s the company and the corporate politics and—”

“Ignore those just for a moment. If LBM and Cybele both didn’t exist, where would that put us?”

Totally unencumbered by everything? Nikolai forced himself not to look toward where Ruslan sat. Lucky he couldn’t watch them from there. Ruslan might feel inclined to come drag him out if he got the impression Henri was pressuring him. “At the start, I think. Yeah. I’d . . . say we’re serious. We could be.”

Henri looked up with hope and tenderness, and Nikolai felt his heart clench.

“I might need some time to get my head around it and my life . . . those are some heavy decisions, but we could give it a go.”

Henri nodded. “Okay. Because, Nikolai, no other guy has gotten so deep under my skin. I really, really want to make this work, and I won’t let LBM or Cybele stand between us.”

“Okay.” Mind awhirl, Nikolai couldn’t help but feel that all this was way too late and couldn’t make any difference at all. Not at this point. “So what are you planning?”

“Trust me, okay? I’ll have to play this one by ear.”

Nikolai chuckled. “You’ve already made some kind of decision. What’s it about?”

“Actually four or five decisions.” He left Nikolai standing and headed back to Ruslan. Nikolai didn’t want to snatch him back, because that would raise way too many eyebrows. Rough-looking guy in a suit manhandling refined businessman—not news he needed. He’d look too much like an aggressive bodyguard. So he followed, dread collecting like dark, cold liquid in the pit of his stomach.

“Mr. Polunin, may I sit?”

Ruslan waved, and Henri settled down. “You’re probably aware that my uncle has been buying Cybele stock like it’s going out of fashion.”

Ruslan nodded. “So what is your game, exactly, Mr. LeBeau?”

“Well, it so happens that my uncle is in London. We’re having a meeting with our brokers, Smythe, Friedman & Hewitt, tomorrow at ten to discuss the public tender.”

Ruslan’s face stayed immobile, but he nodded. “At which point we’ll issue a statement that the offer isn’t welcome and we’re asking our stakeholders to keep hold of their stock.”

“In the absence of a white knight, you won’t be able to refuse us that dance for long, Mr. Polunin.” Henri shook his head. “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last by a long shot. If it’s any consolation, my uncle will see you off with a big check.”

Ruslan seemed to consider this for a while, and Nikolai was suddenly aware he was holding his breath. Seeing his best friend and his lover go toe-to-toe like this was an experience he could have done without.

“We’re not going to sell,” Nikolai said when the silence dragged on.

Ruslan cast him a gaze that could have cautioned him to stay quiet, but certainly meant
I have this
. “You could talk to your uncle and tell him we’ll be ready to attend the meeting and discuss the conditions of the takeover.”

Henri lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re folding?”

Ruslan lifted his shoulders briefly. “He should be aware that the Attis boys are likely to leave with me if it comes to that.”

“Attis boys?”

“Mythological reference we use as shorthand for the core personnel. Nikolai’s one of them. So’s Tamás.”

Henri nodded. “He might try for golden handcuffs there.”

“He can try,” Ruslan said mildly. “Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to prepare for the meeting tomorrow. Calculate some numbers and make some phone calls.”

“Of course, sir.” Henri stood and offered his hand. For a moment it looked as if Ruslan was going to ignore it, but then he, too, stood and shook Henri’s hand. “Let us know by nine tomorrow if the meeting will happen and the broker’s address. We will be there.”

Henri smiled. “Good luck, Mr. Polunin.”

Ruslan nodded and sat down. “I prefer science over luck, but everything that has to do with people is certainly influenced by luck.” He glanced at Nikolai, and Nikolai assumed this was one of his subtle compliments.

“I’ll see you out,” Nikolai said to Henri and led him out of the bar and through the yellow-lit lobby.

Outside, between all the high old houses with their white façades and a little away from a small group of smokers, he reached for Henri’s shoulder.