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“For an extra fee, of course.”
He balked. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
I stood to my feet and walked over to the window where I looked out at the skyline of Los Angeles. “If you read the contract you signed, the seven million we agreed upon was for research purposes only. Formulating a plan is on the house. And if you choose to go with the plan, it’s an extra three million that gets dumped straight into—”
I watched him shoot to his feet in the reflection of the window. “You don’t get to rob me blind just because I made a few fucking mistakes.”
I chuckled as I turned to face him. “A few mistakes, Mr. Litudoe? Is that what you call sexually assaulting thirteen women across your entire career?”
His face grew pale. “No.”
“Then sit down, shut the hell up, and let me do what I do best. Otherwise, I’ll take your money and bill you hourly just for the heartache of having to put up with you. Reworking sexual assault perpetrators in the media takes a lot of time and effort. It’s not a cheap job, and I don’t bill it like it is. You want your career intact? I’m the only one that can do that for you. But, it’ll cost you monetarily, and greatly.”
He ground his teeth together. “Fine. Charge whatever you need.”
I nodded as I clasped my hands behind my back. “Wonderful. Come at me like that again, and I’ll charge you double simply because I can. Now, get the hell out of my face and go down the hallway to meet with my in-house lawyer. She’ll go over your contract, answer any of your questions, and collect your first payment. You’re dismissed.”
I turned back toward the window while the man groaned and grumbled to himself. I heard every word he said; I made out every name he called me. But I didn’t care. I was about to bleed this fucker for every single penny he had left, and I didn’t give a shit about it. Men like him deserved to burn in the media, as far as I was concerned. However, the money they were willing to dish out in order to save their own hides lined my pockets very well.
So, I tolerated them in order to forward my P.R. company’s own agenda.
“All right,” Jackson said as he came up behind me, “we’ve got him quarantined with Mrs. Joanne, so it should be smooth sailing from here.”
I nodded mindlessly. “See to it that he signs the contract. If he goes to our competitors, he’s—”
Jackson, my best friend and the C.F.O. of my company, chuckled. “You know he’ll sign. Don’t you worry.”
I turned to face him. “Jackson.”
He sighed. “Yes, I’ll make sure he signs it.”
“Good.”
A knock came at the conference room door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Drake. But I just need your—”
“Spit it out, Shonda.”
My secretary swallowed hard. “The caterer for the annual banquet is confirmed.”
I nodded my thanks before I waved my hand in the air, dismissing her with a flick of my fingers. I was already bored of the interaction with everyone in my office, yet it was only ten-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday. I eyed Jackson before I gazed back out the window, allowing myself to drink in the view of the ocean I had worked so hard to obtain for myself during work hours.
Because building my P.R. company from the ground up had been no easy feat.
“Speaking of the banquet,” Jackson said as he stepped up to my side, “I think I’m going to come dateless.”
“Say less.”
He chuckled. “I know, I know. I always bring a date to these things. But, not to throw a wrench in the plans or anything, but I went to that meeting with Shonda with the caterer. She’s got the voice of an angel… and a set of legs I’d love to have wrapped around me all weekend.”
I turned to face him. “No, really. Say less.”
“The hell crawled up your asshole and died?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, bullshit. You’re wound the fuck up and even more of a dick than usual. Is this about a woman?”
“When has it ever been about a woman for me?”
