Page 36 of Double Down

We shift to crisis mode fast. It’s late and we have a shit ton to accomplish. By unspoken agreement, there’s no time for wallowing or whiskey.

"We're not getting cut off," Conrad says flatly from his spot at the head of the table, his CEO mask locked firmly in place. "We make this quarter work. No matter what. I refuse to let my father manipulate me or imply I'm not worthy because of his arbitrary moving goalposts."

"Agreed. We need to execute some of our plans," Atticus says, rubbing his temple. "Real ones. Cost savings. Operational strategy. Fifteen percent is unreasonable. I don't even know if it's possible without cutting a ton of operational expenses."

"It isn't, not without a miracle, and that’s why they picked it. We’re going to have to hit it from different angles," Maverick says, collapsing into a chair. "More than just new clients—you’re right that we’re going to have to cut costs, re-evaluate everything. No pennies left on the table."

"I'll go through personnel," I offer. "We can tighten schedules…fire deadweight. Most of the staff is afraid of me. They won't cause too much drama."

Of course, I volunteer for the bloodletting. It makes the others uncomfortable, but I love a good culling when it’s warranted. It reminds the staff that my bite is far more deadly than my bark.

And I’ve already got one of the first ones up for the chopping block in mind. The maid who tried to undermine Phoenix’s value when Mav and I were disposing of Sarah’s body.

"I'll take care of promotions," Maverick adds. "Discounted vacation packages. Press. Give them a reason to come—hell, a dozen reasons. Increase guest flow, lift revenue across the resort, spa, and casino."

I can practically see the dozens of ideas flickering to life in his head. It makes sense. Maverick is the one with the relationships in the communities. He’s the life of the party and the one everyone wants to be around.

"Do it," Conrad says, eyes flicking to his tablet. "I'll renegotiate distributor contracts. Get better terms on supply chain and food service."

Atticus opens his laptop, already typing. "I'll run the numbers. The books will have to be airtight."

And just like that, we become the machine we were always meant to be. Well-oiled and running towards the same goal. We can do this. We have the know-how. We just haven’t had the opportunity to put any of our knowledge into practice yet.

Firing people should be simple enough. Our logs are meticulous, and it shouldn't take much to find those who are less than helpful.

I watch Con from across the table and see what he’s trying desperately not to reveal—he's carrying this…all of us…like it's his penance to pay.

The next morning, I'm up before anyone else.

Phoenix is still passed out in my bed, worn out from the way I slid between her thighs after coming up with a plan.

I let her sleep and dress quietly before slipping out.

For a fraction of a second, I consider waking her up by tongue fucking her pussy, or maybe tracing patterns on her skin with the tip of my blade. Circles around her nipples, then a slow line down to her cunt. Have her wake up wet and panting for my cock.

It's tempting, so damn tempting. But I have too much shit to do. We all do.

I don’t waste time with breakfast, just grab an energy drink and a protein bar and head down to the fourth floor, where all the HR offices are. My brain is already buzzing with a list of shit to get done.

I'd love to walk in and just choose half the staff to fire, but that would cause more issues than it'd solve. First, we would be short-staffed, and then people would be quitting left and rightjust to prove a point or stand misguided by friends who don’t deserve their loyalty. Next thing you know, Maverick would be checking people in, Con would be cleaning rooms, and Atticus would have to bartend.

I hit the HR manager first. Not because of her age or her looks, but because I know for a fact that she’s the perfect example of a person who needs to be fired.

She wasn't hired because of her business degree or her strong ethical code.

She was hired because she likes to swallow Atticus’s father's cock and isn’t afraid of using her knowledge of business to her advantage. If I didn’t hate her on principle, I’d admire her ruthlessness.

Everyone in Savannah seems to know about her extracurricular activities. The funny part is that she spends just as much time on her knees serving Mrs. Vale, as well.

I don't bother knocking. I just barge in to find her playing solitaire instead of doing what she gets paid six figures a year to do.

"Oh my god, Mr. Carrow, what can I do for you?" She asks, leaning over her desk, showing off her admittedly impressive cleavage in an attempt to use her assets to her advantage.

"You're fired. Get your shit and get out."

Immediately, the fake smile falls from her lips. "You can't do that."

"I can and I did. Get out."