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I review all the merger information, go down the hall, and enter the conference room. Hugh's sitting at the head of the table, telling them how their life will change once they have our money.
Disgust fills me. I force myself to put on a happy face and say my hellos.
Hugh gives me his usual expression, which I used to take pride in. It's his order to close the deal once he finishes schmoozing. My gut churns now, when in the past, I looked forward to that expression.
We were a team, and he trusted me to take over. Now, I know the truth. I'm not only better at this than he ever was, but I also can't stand the sight of him. So I muster all the self-discipline I have to appear normal as he continues his egotistical talk.
I observe him, wanting to find some clue that he's treating me differently or a shred of uncomfortableness in his body language, but there's nothing. It only makes me beat myself up further for falling for his act all these years and trusting him.
I vow again to destroy every part of what he holds dear in his life. Then I decide he deserves to receive another picture of his princess tonight. I debate whether it should be my handprint on her ass cheek or her lips around my cock. Or maybe I'll record her begging me for mercy.
When it finally comes time for me to take over, I spend an hour on final negotiations. Our attorney edits the contracts. Their attorney reviews the changes and then everyone signs.
If I hadn't known my partner was screwing me over, I'd have the biggest hard-on in L.A. right now. This is the largest deal I've ever closed, and it's also international. The merger will attract even more clientele, and we won't be going to them. They'll be knocking on our door, which is something we used to only dream would someday happen.
Yet all I can wonder is how much of this deal Hugh's going to siphon off into his offshore accounts.
The clients leave, and Hugh slaps me on the back, booming, "We did it! Give me a few minutes, and I'll meet you at Bar Fifty-Two. I have an issue I need to handle first."
You meanIdid it, you snake.
I shake my head. "Sorry, I have to get out of here in a few."
His face falls. I would have rather died in the past than let him down. The thing Hugh loves most about our business is the celebration scotch and boasting about it to all his cronies at Bar Fifty-Two. He orders, "Just one."
"Sorry. We'll catch up next week. I can't get out of my engagement tonight," I quickly add, then steer him out of the conference room and to his office. I repeat, "Next week, for sure."
"Okay, but you're buying," he states.
His comment would normally not bother me. Now, I can only think about how he's stealing from me and I'm still buying the drinks.
"Done," I say, then nod to two security guys, Roy and George.
"My office," Hugh demands in a firm voice.
The hairs on my arms rise. Why is he pissed at them?
Something tells me to stick around. I grab the door handle, motion for everyone to go inside Hugh's office, and declare, "Nice work, Hugh."
"You too," he replies, then orders Roy and George to sit.
I shut the door but leave it open with a slight crack.
Hugh seethes, "How did you let her escape?"
"We got a flat tire, boss," Roy explains.
"She jumped out the back of the SUV. We followed her, but damn, she's fast," George adds.
Hugh bellows, "Morons! I should fire you now."
Silence fills the room.
Hugh asks, "Where did you lose her?"
"She went into a club. The bouncer wouldn't let us in," Roy declares.
It's like fuel pouring over my rage. I've heard all I need to. It's clear these two are the ones who kidnapped Blakely.
