Football singularity-Chapter 488 Slave Driver
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[Location: Ravenscroft International Headquarters — Executive Boardroom, London Date: 21/12/2019 | Time: 17:45 GMT]
The late afternoon sun filtered through the towering glass windows of the Ravenscroft International headquarters, casting a golden hue on the polished mahogany boardroom table. The skyline of London shimmered just beyond the glass—an empire in perpetual motion. Inside, however, the air was stagnant with tension.
Seated at the head of the long table was Benedict Ravenscroft, the 6th Marquess of Alderwick and current head of the Ravenscroft family. Despite being the youngest in his generation, he proved himself worthy with his intellect and business acumen, winning the battle of succession. Despite being the head of the family, he only barely controls 52% of Ravenscroft Holdings, the parent company of their family empire.
That did not give him absolute power, though, as the holding company only owned about 40% of the total shares in the subsidiary business. For this reason, he puts extra emphasis on strengthening his main business due to the leverage it brings. Seated at the head of the long table, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table subtly resounded as he listened to the directors.
Immaculately dressed in a tailored dark charcoal suit, he bore the sort of elegance that made everything around him feel several degrees cooler. His chiselled features remained unreadable, framed by neatly styled raven-black hair streaked ever so subtly with hints of silver. His gaze remained fixed on the sleek laptop in front of him, exuding a serious demeanour.
Unbeknownst to the other directors in the room, the screen didn't show graphs, quarterly revenue reports, or international market forecasts. It displayed the live post-match broadcast of the Bundesliga fixture between Mainz and Bayer Leverkusen. On the screen, Rakim and Jonathan Tah stood confidently in front of the press, sweat still glistening on their bodies as they answered the reporter's questions.
Standing behind Benedict, silent as a shadow, was his personal assistant, Lila Beaumont. Her sharp eyes noticed everything, but she did not interrupt him and watched over the rest of the directors.
"…which brings us to the issue of regional stagnation," said Charles Wren, one of the senior development executives, his voice confident yet measured. "The expansion into the South Korean and Canadian urban hotel markets has been serviceable but not transformative. Margins are tight, our guest retention has been slipping all year, and let's be honest—our aesthetic isn't resonating with the newer generation of high-spending travellers."
There were nods around the table as this had been a growing concern in the high-end hotel business. New money clients would rather book a villa for themselves and their entourage to show off than book a hotel. Traditional Hotel and hospitality businesses were being phased out unless they had historical value or some kind of draw that made them attractive.
Charles tapped his finger on a pie chart displayed on the monitor behind him. "We need a pivot. Not just in operations or design, but in brand identity. Which brings me to a potential synergy opportunity—" He hesitated just a second too long, considering whether his words were worth the potential backlash.
"—With our cosmetic group," he said. "Namely, a flagship crossover initiative. Luxury wellness floors in select hotels. Spa suites infused with the Eden Grace branding." Another pause. "If we were to go ahead with this Idea, it would make sense to begin discussions with their chairman, given that their recently launched cosmetic products have failed to gain traction in the market."
A hush fell over the boardroom, similar to the silence that occurs before the sudden drop in air pressure before a storm. Every executive at the table stiffened, some exchanging glances from the corners of their eyes. A few pretended to study the digital notepad before them, while others looked distinctly uncomfortable. The unspoken name behind the "cosmetic group" was common knowledge: Eden Grace was run by none other than Lady Eleanor Ravenscroft.
Benedict didn't respond right away. He let the silence steep in the oak-panelled room, amplifying the discomfort with each passing second. From his position at the head of the table, his green eyes finally flicked upward from the laptop screen and locked directly onto Charles Wren. The tapping of his fingers ceased. The change was imperceptible, yet absolute.
"Interesting," Benedict murmured, his voice low and calm, but carrying weight that made all their spines straighten. He closed the laptop gently, with the finality of a guillotine blade, and folded his hands before him.
"Let me ensure I've heard you correctly, Mr Wren," he continued, his tone now cool and clipped like fine ice being cracked under pressure. "You're proposing that we pivot our hospitality division—currently the host of several heads of state, three royal weddings, and a not inconsiderable number of Fortune 500 board meetings—toward a crossover initiative with... Eden Grace?"
A few of the junior executives subtly adjusted their posture, sensing the air chill by several degrees. Wren hesitated too long to the point the other executives almost suffocated in the pressure Benedict was exuding. "Yes, Chairman strategically, it would integrate well with the rise of experiential luxury. Wellness tourism is on an upward trend and—"
"—And you believe this integration is best initiated under the assumption that Eden Grace is in a position to deliver." Benedict interrupted, steepling his fingers. "Even though their latest product launch was underwhelming. Despite a 13% quarter-on-quarter drop in retail penetration. Despite public misgivings over their rebranding."
Wren swallowed hard, knowing little about the family's power struggle and that his suggestion might be taken the wrong way. However, he cared for none of that, given that some of his own money was tied to the success of the conglomerate, and money was the only king he rode to battle for.
Benedict wasn't finished as he leaned forward on the table, intertwining his fingers as his elbow rested on the table. "Let us not pretend," he continued, voice now low and unmistakably chill, "that my sister Eleanor's ambitions for Eden Grace are unaligned with her broader aspirations for this family. To entertain such a merger would be to feed the very mechanism she hopes to use to challenge my position."
Silence hung in the room, with no one daring to breathe loudly, let alone say something. Wren, who was on the receiving end of his emerald stare, felt beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead. "Though your idea is misguided, it is along the right track. Mr Brent, have the action team create a modernisation plan for all of our major hotels. The Continental in New York will act as the pilot, and Mrs Brooks has the marketing department compile a list of influencers, athletes, and celebrities for long, medium and short-term brand ambassador deals."
"Mr Wren, you will be going to Japan to oversee our R&D department there. Identify useful applications and inventions that we can roll out in the next 5 years." Benedict stood up from his throne-like chair, Lila Beaumont immediately moving to pack up his laptop and any important folder on the table. "Since you care so much about our bottom line, you will have a preliminary report ready for me by New Year's Day, along with a comprehensive cost report for its implementation in all 15 of our flagship hotels around the world."
His words were final as he picked up his suit coat, which hung on a designated stand. Not even bothering to see if they had accepted his order, he headed for the door with Lila in tow. She nodded her head in apology for her boss's actions before firmly shutting the door behind them.
"Fuck you just had to provoke that slave driver, now he is going to have us work all throughout the holidays." a well-dressed executive lamented with a wry smile as he rubbed his temples. "Knowing his mood swing, I wouldn't be surprised if he has us do a year's worth of work before easter."
"Oh, come on, Martin, we all know something had to be done. You might have enough money to not care about losing a few million each year, but I'm too greedy for my own good," Wren retorted with a tight smile as he proceeded to pack up his documents. "Plus, don't me you all don't miss the days when old chairman David was in power, all our business were aligned centrally, streamlining operations and maximising profits."
Silence hung in the room as all the executives took a moment to lament the current situation, which had persisted for four years. Ever since the battle for the patriarchal position ended in a pyrrhic victory for Lord Benedict, the subsidiary company's control by his sibling quickly uncoupled from central command. They became decentralised entities working for themselves and only doing the bare minimum they owed to the Ravenscroft holding group.
"(Sigh) Just hurry up to Tokyo so you can make it back for the annual New Year's party, from what I hear, many business elites from different conglomerates will be in attendance." Mrs Brooks stated as she stood up from her chair, already wondering how to lure the overworked marketing team out of their holiday to meet the demands of their overlord. "I hear that even the Rex family from Chelsea will be in attendance."
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To Be Continued...
