Page 46 of Twisted Knight

His eyes bulge as far open as his mouth falls. “Excuse me?”

I lift my brows. “I don’t think I stuttered.” The murmurs and shifting around the room cease. I’ve got their attention. Perfect. “The door’s that way.”

But I don’t lift my head to see his stunned expression. I don’t acknowledge the cursed protest on his lips. I don’t watch his sorry ass shuffle out of the room.

“Would anybody else like to join Joshua?” I ask.

“We’re not taking on new suppliers.” Rhett’s the first to speak as he rises from his seat and begins to pace the room. Agitated.

My point has been made.

“Big words from a man who is selling the keys to his castle,” I taunt.

“Then maybe I yank those keys,” he threatens.

I chuckle. It’s menacing and unforgiving and when I tilt my head, eyes pinning him still, his Adam’s apple bobs. “If that’s how you make deals—negotiate and then renege the minute things don’t go your way—no wonder this company is barely holding on.”

“It’s not failing.”

I lift a lone eyebrow, my smirk taunting. “Is this really the conversation you want to have? Right now? In front of everyone?”

The muscle pulses in his jaw. How much do you like to play with fire?

“Porter and I go way back,” he says of the owner of Greatland Aluminum. “His father goes way back with my father. And so on and so on. There’s history there. I don’t care who you are or where you come from, but TinSpirits is a family company. We pride ourselves on relationships. And we still will even after you sign on the dotted line.”

“Way back.” I say the last two words out loud as I write them down and underline them forcefully for showmanship. The sound of my pen on the pad resonates around the room. “Got it. We’ll manage and run the company on the ‘way back’ premise. I mean, why change things, right?” There is no mistaking my sarcasm.

“What’s your point, Knight?” he snaps at me.

I lift my eyebrows and lean back in my chair as the rest of the room shifts in their seats. I hold Rhett’s glassy-eyed glare, knowing full well my slow-to-respond way infuriates him.

I take even more time to let the silence eat at him.

“Bird’s-eye view? Logistics are a nightmare. You’re losing money by paying higher taxes where your distribution center is. You’re ignoring green energy, which would be an investment up front but would cut costs in the long run. You’re disregarding untapped markets because you’re stuck in the past. Should I go on?”

“When I win the election—”

“Jesus Christ, Rothschild. Is the election going to guarantee their paychecks?” I ask, pointing to everyone around the table. “Clearly it will help you somehow, but no one here cares about you. Got it? Win or lose, we’re at the mercy of Greatland. They can screw us over and we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”

“They won’t.”

“But if they do, that loyalty you’ve fostered nets you nothing.”

“So, big man, what’s your proposal? That we say ‘fuck loyalty’ and move from sub to sub every time one of them offers a cheaper price? Use them and abuse them until there are no more left because we’ve burned every bridge there is?”

“Burning bridges isn’t my style.”

“Then what is? Because I’m sure as hell trying to figure that out.” Rhett leans his ass against the windowsill and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly thinking he has the upper hand in this conversation.

He’s played into my hands so easily.

“It sure as fuck isn’t the ‘way back’ style.” I smile smugly, enjoying this little back and forth. “Your loyalty is blinding you. Greatland is controlling the cost. We have zero leverage for negotiations.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Right. How could I forget. We’re using the ‘way back’ rule when it comes to running this place.”

“This is one of those times when you stay in your lane, and I stay in mine.”