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Business is business, but insinuating my mother or any of the women in my family is up to illegal activity won’t stand. So, I went on the hunt for who was behind these bullshit articles. Aside from the reporters, I came up with Jayceon Carlson, president, and next-in-line at Carlson Healthcare.
One of our company’s biggest rivals.Especially for the next acquisition I have my eyes on for Townsend Industries.
“You thought planting the seed of doubt about my company and my family would deter Sam Waterson from selling to us? You didn’t plan on your dirt coming to light.”
Jayceon’s mouth opens and closes a few times. No words come out before there’s a uprisal in the surrounding crowd. I lift my gaze to see two of the waitresses entering holding a massive square cake.
“As a special birthday present, I upgraded your cake.” I release Jayceon, who looks confused between me and the arriving cake.
Yet, his face pales noticeably when the waitresses lower the cake to the table before us. His mouth falls open as he stands there frozen, staring at the words on the cake.
“Why don’t you read the inscription for us?” I say cheerfully.
He doesn’t respond.
“Fine, I’ll do it. It’s a text exchange between Jayceon and a woman,” I say while glancing around at the crowd of a hundred or so around us. “Well, not a woman, right, Jay?” I slap him on the back. “No. This girl was only fifteen years old when this text was sent two years ago. But her sister?” I let out a low whistle. “She was even younger when you approached her, you sick son of a bitch.”
I slap his back again, this time harder. “I thought you might want a reminder of the exchanges you had with some of the underage girls you—” I can’t even say the final words because of the disgust clogging my throat.
“Don’t worry, though, you can still cut into this cake. The proper authorities have already received the necessary evidence to put your scumbag ass away for years to come.”
I squeeze Jayceon’s neck before letting go. “Happy fucking birthday. Are you going to blow out your candles?”
His face turns from ghostly to a deep crimson, almost matching the color of the walls.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
With that, I lean over and blow out the thirty-plus candles on the cake.
I swipe a finger through a corner of the cake and taste the icing. I give Jayceon a nod of approval. “Good choice on the cream cheese icing.”
After wiping my hand clean, I toss the used napkin onto the cake before striding toward the exit. Onlookers who were partying with Jayceon and kissing his ass, are now snapping photos and, no doubt, sending out social media posts of what just happened.
“Did you have to blow out the man’s birthday candles, too?” Diego asks while clapping me on the back as we exit the private room.
I shrug.
“He fucking deserved it, anyway,” Diego adds, cracking his knuckles. He looks as disgusted and pissed as I am.
We head to the VIP section of the club, which is on the second floor, overlooking the main dance floor.
“I need a drink,” I tell my cousin.
* * *
As soon aswe take our seats in the leather lounge chairs across from one another, our waitress sets our drinks in front of us.
“That was fun,” I say as I sip the amber liquid in my glass.
Diego snorts. “All it took to get your ass out of the office for once was annihilating a business rival.”
“Getting rid of that scum was only one of two reasons for me being here tonight.”
My cousin lifts a dark eyebrow.
“The second is convincing you to come with me to Miami for Art Basel.”
“I swear to God. Don’t waste the fifty grand annual fee we pay …respectively, to talk business.”
