House Rules(25)

He leaned back in the chair and assessed me for a minute. My instincts went on alert. He was not here for my help. This was something that would only benefit him.

“I’ve heard your father might be getting you ready to take over the business.”

I nodded, still wary. Dad had made it clear for years that I would be succeeding him someday, so my taking over was not a secret by any means. This didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be people waiting in the wings to try and manipulate the change for their own benefit. “We’ve talked about it, but nothing has been decided yet. Was that all you stopped by for?” I had no intention of telling him anything we’d discussed earlier in the week, not until I knew what his end game was.

“Since you ask, I do have a reason for coming by.”

I waited but he didn’t continue. Whatever the purpose of his visit, he was pissing me the hell off with the game of run around he insisted on playing. I did my best to rein in my temper. “What would that be?” I bit out, hoping he’d get the hint and spit it out.

He leaned back into his chair as if this would be a long story. Did Dad put up with this shit every time this asshole needed something?

“Since you’re new to running the business, I thought I could assist with the transition. There are many things to be addressed. The first of which being that I believe I deserve a lower rate.”

Most people would have laughed, recognizing a joke for what it was. Not in this business. The fucker actually thought I’d go along with this. I rested my elbows on the armrest and steepled my fingers, my body language belying the rage such a suggestion would cause.

“Is that how you see it?” I asked in a low, controlled voice.

He stiffened for a moment, then visibly forced himself to relax. “Without your father’s reputation, people will be running to Nathan Marcello. And as someone who is willing to stay, I believe you owe it to me to reward my loyalty and lower my rate.”

I stayed exactly where I was, my voice deadly calm as I said, “You will get no such thing. I’m still a fucking Hawes and you will show me the respect my name deserves. If you want to take your business to Marcello, be my guest, but I make no guarantees about the security of your information. Considering how long you’ve been a client, there is always the chance that one of your files might be . . . misplaced in the handover.”

He skin took on a pasty white pallor I wasn’t accustomed to seeing on him, and he ran a finger beneath the collar of his shirt, loosening the constricting material. “You’d risk your own business?” His voice rose an octave as reality slammed into him. He’d made a very poor decision in going there with me.

I knew a lot about this business, one of the most important things was respect: how to get it, when to utilize it, and probably most importantly, how to keep it. If I was to take over my father’s role, clients needed to know that I was no pushover. And that started here and now. With Mr. Karlstad.

“I wouldn’t be risking anything. My father has only ever hired the best to keep our books. You know as well as I do that your information could hit the streets tomorrow and no one, not even the best forensic accountant would be able to trace it back to me. Times are changing, Mr. Karlstad, and please be assured that your lack of respect for this change has been noted. And right now, you’re lucky I haven’t yanked you out of that chair and beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”

He stood up so fast you might have thought his ass was on fire. He stood there fidgeting, his eyes glancing back at the door, like he was waiting for his chance to bolt from the room. “I can see I made a mistake in coming here.”

With his hands raised, he backed slowly toward the door.

“Sit the fuck down. I’m not done with your sorry ass.”

His eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. He’d eventually understand there wasn’t one. Little bastard would soon realize that the only way he was leaving the office was when I let him.

I scooted forward on the chair, my elbows on the top of the desk, my eyes boring into his beady ones. “Right now, you’re really fucking lucky I don’t plan on telling my father about our little tête-à-tête.” Mr. Karlstad swallowed hard at the blatant threat. “He’d already have Brock or Dean escorting you outside for a little chat for even thinking that. But what you will quickly learn is that my father may be a scary bastard, but he’s got nothing on me. I’m the motherfucker who won’t bother wasting his time waiting for someone else to beat your ass. I’ll take care of you myself and you’ll never be the same.”