Page 76 of Lucas

Cutting into living flesh.

Everything I’ve tried to avoid these past months, all my hard work—seeking out new projects, planning for the future, cutting costs. And this arrogant man waltzes in, thinking he knows best, ready to fire a third of my staff with a snap of his fingers.

Who do I let go? The older, experienced workers who’ve given their lives to this company and won’t find new jobs easily? Or the young laborers doing backbreaking work, without whom I can’t take on new projects?

Damn it all.

I’m not doing this. Not until I’ve exhausted every other solution.

I’m not firing anyone from Gant. Forget it.

Lucas

Maybe you’re a spoiled princess used to getting her way, but this is real business. And I’m your boss now. If I say fire them, you’ll do it.

Spoiled princess? After everything I’ve told him, that’s what he thinks of me? That I’m spoiled?

Jaw clenched, I sketch a man in a suit on a sheet of paper, replacing his head with a pile of shit. Then I slip it into the binder with his proposed plan and call for Bridget.

“I need you to take this to Lucas Valeur right now.” I thrust the binder at my secretary. “Directly to him.”

“I’m just?—”

“Now,” I command, my tone brooking no argument.

She nods, eyes wide. “Okay.” Taking the binder, she scurries out.

The text comes only minutes later.

Lucas

What the hell is this supposed to be?

Guess he got my response.

I toss my phone on the desk and gather the remaining files into a neat stack. Bastard. I have to find another way, something to save my employees.

Jason Drewlo’s hopeful eyes flash through my mind, the same eyes that haunt me every day when I arrive at the office. His pleading request.

“My daughter was just born…”

Valeur’s plan will force me to fire him.

The office door slams open, and I jump, stumbling back a step. “What are you doing here?”

“What did you send me?” Lucas demands, all coiled intensity as he stalks into my office.

I straighten my spine and jut out my chin. “Thought you’d appreciate a self-portrait.”

His jaw ticks, a muscle jumping beneath taut skin. “You’ve made your point. Cute. Now, we need to implement my plan. I want a preliminary list of layoffs on my desk within the week.”

“No.”

He prowls closer, one large hand braced on my desk as he leans in. “Come again?”

I tilt my head, meeting his glare head-on. “I know you’re not used to hearing the word, but no means no. I’m not firing anyone or implementing your plan.”

“I don’t think you understand the position you’re in.” His voice is sharp and low. “I own Gant Construction now. I havefinal say over every move you make. I’m your superior. You don’t get to refuse me.”