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In the mix of dealing with this bullshit, I’m coming down with a stomach virus. It’s been floating around lately; I remember Kylee Jo having it before Christmas. I haven’t run a fever, but I’ve been nauseous, dizzy, and weak. I’d take a few days off to rest, but there is no rest for a CEO. Not when my work is the only distraction shielding my broken heart.
I’ve jus sat down at my desk from spewing the contents of my breakfast into the toilet when Shelly knocks on the door, then enters.
“Ms. Simon, I’m sorry to bother you, but Mr. Varney is here to see you again.”
I nod to Shelly with a polite smile as she steps aside to make room for Drew to enter before she closes the door behind her.
“Mr. Varney, to what do I owe the displeasure of your visit this afternoon? You obviously didn’t hear me loud enough on your last visit when I told you to make an appointment the next time you wished to see me.” I smile, poker face in place, refusing to give away the nervous flutters he sends coursing through me. Maybe it’s just the nausea.
Drew takes a seat across from me and crosses his long leg over his knee. Damn, even the way he sits he looks like Daddy. “Ms. Simon, I told you once, it’s Drew. I’m here about the offer I made you a few weeks back, about buying your contract with Dalton Trucking. Have you taken that into consideration?” He smirks. Jackass.
“I haven’t, and I don’t plan to. Have you considered my offer to buy your partnership in Dalton Trucking?”
Drew tosses his head back and laughs, grabbing his stomach for show. “You know it seems that a woman who is drowning in her own company would just give up and walk away. After the accident with your superintendent, and then your equipment being destroyed at Black Ridge, how is it you’re still willing to work in the coal business? Must be that tough Simon skin, I guess.” He chuckles.
“How do you know about the equipment at Black Ridge?”
“Keep my ear to the ground. Now, how about it. Sell your contract with Dalton Trucking.”
“Not gonna happen. Now, please, I’m busy and don’t have time for your bullshit. See yourself out, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” I sneer and turn my attention to my work.
“You’re really such a stubborn woman.”
“Much like you’re a greedy bastard, ready to sink your filthy claws into any struggling company you can just for personal gain?”
He leans forward and braces his elbows on his knees, a sly, sinister smile covering his face. “Is that really any way to speak to your dear brother?”
I bite down on the inside of my lip and take a deep breath. Did he really just ask that? How the hell does he know? “Brother? You, Mr. Varney, are anything but. And I’ll speak to ruthless bastards any damn way I please.”
“Cut the shit, you stupid bitch. I’ve been screwed up, over, and every which way but sideways for damn too long by you fucking Simons. I’m here, and I’m staking my claim on the Simon Energy empire.”
“And what claim do you think you have, exactly, Mr. Varney?”
He pulls an envelope from his suit pocket and slings it across the desk at me. I already know what it is, so there’s no need to look at the DNA results. I shove the paper back in his direction.
“Open the envelope. It’s time you know the truth, Carly.”
“I know what that paper says, but it’s just that, a slip of paper. It means not one damned thing to me,” I reply, smiling sweetly, holding my poker face intact.
“So you know that I’m Big John’s son, your brother?”
“Yeah, I read that in some paperwork that I found hid away in a trunk in the back of Daddy’s closet when I moved back home. Just black words on white paper. Meaningless.” I shrug him off, and this fuels his anger. He growls slightly, shifting in his chair, as he continues to stare an ice cold glare at me.
“You think you’re some privileged little bitch don’t you, Carly? Always had it all growing up? Got it all now? Hell, look at you. Just twenty-five and you’re the CEO of one of the largest coal companies in Kentucky. Must be real nice to have everything served up for you on a silver platter.”
“Mr. Varney, first of all, it’s Ms. Bitch to you. Secondly, I’m not stupid. I’ve done my research on you, and I know more about you than you think. I know that my daddy gave you a lavish life, making sure that you had the best education, the best home for you and your mother; the best of everything. He left you money in his will, and he left his partnership in Dalton Trucking to you. You’re just a greedy bastard who thinks you can terrify me into letting you extort my family of our business and money. Well, I’ll give you money. I’ll write you a check right now for your partnership in Dalton Trucking, only if you’ll walk away now and never look back.”
Drew throws his head back and laughs a devious, bone-chilling laugh. “What makes you think I’d be willing to accept such an offer?”
“Because you’re a greedy bastard, and money talks,” I smirk.
Drew leans back in his seat and takes a deep breath before uttering the most sinister of words with a deep, husky voice that would terrify even the largest of men. “Sis, you’re right about one damn thing. I’m a greedy bastard. But I won’t stop not one damn second until I have every fucking ounce of what’s rightfully mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to pry it from your hands. You and Savannah both will be left with nothing once I’ve released my grip from you little bitches.”
My poker face slowly melts away as his words strike me to the bone. His eyes have changed from dark green to nearly black, and although I feel the rising tension floating from his body, his demeanor is still and impassive. His threats chill me to the bone, but I’m a Simon just as much as he is, and I won’t back down.
“Dear greedy bastard, you see, if you were anything for my daddy to have been proud of, you would have been given his empire. Not hidden away from our happy little family like the bastard that you are. He was ashamed that he had a bastard son. If he loved you—if you meant to my daddy what I meant to him—then he would have left you his everything you deserved. But he didn’t, now did he?” I smile from ear to ear, knowing that my words cut him deep, leaving marks that will forever warn him not to screw with a Simon.
That statement pushes him over the top, as blood-pounding fury builds in his face. The vein over his temple throbs as the blood forces its way through. He grips the arm of the chair and releases a deep huff of air that reminds me of a wild animal. He stares at me momentarily, thinking about what he wants to say next. His rebuttal is moot, really. Who’s sitting on the power side of the desk here?
