Bastard In Suit(16)

Jake’s face pales. “Strip it down? You mean roll back all the work we did to make it what it is?”

“Eventually it could be a useful product,” Duke says, completely dismissing the look of horror in Jake’s eyes.

“There’s no one that knows it better than us,” I say, an attempt to divert the conversation before Jake gets emotional. Showing weakness isn’t the way to impress Duke—I know that first hand. “If we agreed to a buy-out, who would work on the device?”

Another kick comes at me from under the table.

I ignore it and focus on Duke. He strokes his beard, as if contemplating. My heart races. Selling the MicroTracker outright isn’t a perfect scenario, but for three college grads, it should be a dream come true. Problem is, I’m not ready to let control of the product go.

“What if you hired us to work on the project?” I say, my voice sounding strangely confident in my own ears.

Duke whips his head to me. I’m wearing a soft, V-neck sweater.

Duke’s gaze slides down the front of my sweater briefly before returning to my face.

“This is my offer,” he says calmly, as if he knew it would go this route from the very beginning. “I will purchase the MicroTracker for eight hundred thousand dollars, payable in one installment. In addition, you will each have a job at Kingston Industries, with the sole purpose of turning the device into something that can eventually be taken to market.”

My pulse spikes. “What’s our annual salary?”

“One hundred thousand dollars.”

Forrest barely contains a gasp. “Each?”

Duke continues as though he hasn’t heard the question. “After three years, your contracts will be re-evaluated.”

Holy shit.

It’s not an excessive wage, but a cushy job at Kingston Industries fresh out of school is at the top of every IT student’s bucket list. We’d be the envy of our classmates. I’d be able to rent an apartment with a real hot water tank. Maybe buy a condo on the North Side.

I am totally in, but in my peripheral vision, I see a pale, unshaven Jake chewing on the inside of his cheek. Getting him on board will be a tougher sell.

Duke stands and smooths the creases out of his steel-gray jacket. “I’ll leave the room and give you a moment to discuss my offer.”

“Thank you, sir,” Forrest practically gushes.

At the door, Duke turns. He looks at me, but the warning is intended for us all. “If you try and leverage this to get a better deal somewhere else, or take advantage of my generosity in any way, I will make sure you never work in this industry again.”

A chill ripples through my spine.

Duke Kingston is a cold asshole, but I can’t help but stare at his backside as he leaves the room. It should be fucking illegal for an ass to be that firm.

“That went well,” Forrest says, rubbing his hands together. He’s like a kid in a candy store and Duke has offered him unlimited lollipops.

“He won’t give us credit for the innovation,” Jake says. “Rich motherfuckers like him think they can take everything, take all of our work and pretend it’s theirs.” His eyes have dark circles under them and it’s clear he hasn’t been sleeping.

Seems this breakup is more serious than I gave credit for, but now is not the time to worry about Jake’s love life.

“Jake has a point,” I say. “We’ll be nothing but salaried employees.”

“So what?” Forrest says, with a snort. “We’ll have enough money to create a new product. Something bigger and better than the MicroTracker.”

Jake sneers. “No, we’ll be stuck in this building working as slaves for the billionaire that bought our product.”

“There are worse places to be enslaved,” I say, and my mind takes me right back to the storage room at the restaurant. I shake my head to re-set my thoughts and rest my hand on Jake’s arm. “I know it’s not ideal.”

“It blows,” he says, flinching away from my attempt to calm him. “First Marissa’s trying to ruin my life, and now Duke Kingston is joining in.”

Forrest glares at him. “Seriously dude, you’ll have more money than you dreamed of. And we’ll have jobs. Am I the only one that’s clued in to that important fact?”

Not even close. I’ve already begun mentally scrolling through the real estate ads in search of an upscale loft. Maybe something above a hip coffee shop. I’ll buy new furniture, get a real coffee table, something antique and sturdy. The kind of piece my mom would admire.

Jake shakes his head. “I’m not going to take this deal,” he says. “I’m not going to just take it in the ass from this rich prick.”