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“Sit down, Richard,” Harrison says in a tone that leaves no room for disobedience. “You’re testing my patience.”
Richard gapes at him, then sits on the other side of the table despite his reservations. He grits his teeth, visibly annoyed at being ordered around by someone twenty years his junior.
“Well, I’m here. What the hell do you want to talk about?” Richard snaps.
“This is Dawson Tate.” Harrison gestures to the man seated at the head of the table, reclining in his chair with his hands folded on his lap. “He’s my legal counsel.”
“Why should I care?” Richard demands.
Last week, Dawson reached out to Harrison to confirm Landon’s termination. Harrison saw it as an opportunity to get Dawson’s advice on dealing with Richard. For a pretty penny, Dawson provided his guidance and devised a strategy to confront Richard.
Dawson is six foot four with a chiseled jawline, high cheekbones, and a straight, aristocratic nose. He’s dressed in a custom-tailored suit with silver cufflinks and polished blackleather shoes. His lips form a thin line, and his piercing blue eyes are cold and calculating as he observes Richard like a predator.
Harrison has a commanding presence, but Dawson’s is meant to instill fear, and it’s working.
He rises from his seat with a folder in his hand and strides toward Richard, perching on the table next to him.
“You might not know me, but I’m well acquainted with you,” he states smoothly, holding the dossier up for Richard to see. “Someone’s been a naughty boy.” He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, flipping through the documents. “Embezzlement, tax evasion, kickbacks—should I go on?” he asks rhetorically.
“You hid it well, but the Stafford team is the best. You were desperate for this acquisition because you’re hemorrhaging money.” Dawson’s tone turns icy. “You tried to deceive my client, which means you’ve made an enemy of me. And as you’ll soon learn, my enemies don’t fare well, Richard.”
I swear I can hear Richard gulp in fear from here. Even I have a chill down my spine, and I’m not the one Dawson is confronting. I wish I could have been there when he fired Landon. I’m sure he gave an epic performance.
“My lawyers won’t stand for this type of scare tactic,” Richard declares, his voice wavering.
“Call your legal team. Be sure to tell them Dawson Tate sends his regards. I’m itching to make someone cry today.” He smirks as he pulls out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Richard asks, sounding panicked.
Dawson shrugs. “I figured my friend at the FBI might be interested in hearing all about your extracurricular activities. Do you want to tell him yourself?” He holds out the phone.
“Hold on a minute,” Richard says, turning red in the face. “There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can talk this through.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Dawson says, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I’ll let Harrison do the honors.” He leans forwardto straighten Richard’s tie, tugging it tighter around his neck before returning to his seat.
Harrison pushes a hefty stack of papers across the table to Richard. “I’m cutting my offer for Townstead International by half,” he says, with no sign of sympathy. “Given the extensive damage you’ve caused, it’s a fair deal.”
“That’s outrageous,” Richard blusters. “There’s no way I’m selling it to you for that price.”
“Does that mean Dawson should call his friend?” Harrison motions to Dawson, who sets his phone on the table in a silent challenge.
“This is extortion,” Richard hisses.
It’s remarkable how easily he can mistreat others, even stealing from his own family, but when he’s confronted with his actions, he doesn’t want to face the repercussions.
“Harrison’s offer beats going to prison, wouldn’t you say?” Dawson interrupts. “Trust me, I’ve been there. It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.”
I don’t know if he’s telling the truth, but it only adds to his intimidation factor. It’s puzzling that he and Harrison are friends. I can’t picture them letting loose at a bar and sharing jokes over a beer. I’m wondering if Dawson even knows how to smile.
Richard pushes up out of his seat and points at Everly. “This is all your fault. If you’d kept your feelings out of that marriage of yours, none of this would have happened.” He’s lost all sense of logic, only focused on causing the most damage on his way out.
Oh, fuck no.
As I rise from my chair, Everly catches my arm. “I got this,” she says, her voice steady.
I nod, sitting back in my chair.
She stands up, placing her hands on the conference table, and locks eyes with her dad.