about, even if Decker does have some strange obsession with watching everything he does, and wants to know every detail about him. If I singlehandedly lose him as a client, I’m definitely done. There will be no questions asked.
I sit and wait for the voice to return when an electric motor whirs to life and the gate slowly eases open.
I swear it’s like driving into Jurassic Park, all ominous. The driveway snakes around, and it’s so much more eerie in the dark, weaving around the trees. Finally, I pull up to a roundabout and park my car in front of the mansion. It’s lit up with floodlights all around, and it looks just as gaudy at night as it does during the day.
The architects nailed the design. It looks just like a Wells Covington mansion should look.
The butler guy opens the front door as I get out of the car, as if he rushed to get himself ready and presentable.
I feel so bad, when I walk up the steps, I say, “Sorry for interrupting your evening.”
“Quite all right, ma’am. He’s right this way.”
Now, I feel even worse that he’s being nice and not yelling at me. “Did I wake you up?”
“No, ma’am. Mr. Covington rarely sleeps.”
The meaning is right there. Mr. Covington doesn’t sleep, which means the help isn’t allowed to either.
He leads me into a living room, and Wells Covington doesn’t look nearly as cordial as his butler. He’s standing in the middle of the room, pacing around, like he has a million better things to be worried about than some crazy lady barging into his gigantic estate.
I have to set the tone on this, or he’ll try to bully me. I know how these guys operate. I square my shoulders as I enter the room, head up, chin high, and march right at him.
His eyes widen for a second, but there’s a hint of amusement in them too.
“The hell is the meaning of this?”
I ignore his question and square off about three feet away. I have to look up because he’s taller than I thought, probably six two at least, maybe six three. “Where’s Rick? What happened?” I do everything I can to show him with my face and my tone that there’s no getting out of this.
He smirks. “Was I not clear on the phone?”
I point a finger at him, and the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Just stop with the bullshit. It’s not cute. There’s more, and I’m not leaving here until I have the damn truth.” I don’t even know who I am right now. I never curse, demand things from people. I’m never this—assertive. It feels kind of good, and I straighten my back a little more and glare at him.
His eyes widen a little. “Well, the little Bible thumper has a mouth on her after all.”
This is a deflection, trying to shift the discussion, and I won’t have it. “Give me the truth. You know more than what you told me.”
He smirks and takes a seat in a plush chair that looks more expensive than my entire apartment. “Does your boss know you’re here? Threatening one of his biggest clients?”
I take a step and plant my feet in front of him. “I’m giving you one more opportunity to come clean. Look in my eyes and tell me I’m bluffing.”
He looks away. “Why the fuck do I do business with your firm? Jesus Christ. You’re gonna be fired by tomorrow morning. Now get the hell out of my house.”
I lean down in front of him, so we’re eye-to-eye. “I don’t give a damn about getting fired. You’re not telling me something, and I want to know what it is. I’ll call up Yahoo Finance, CNBC, MarketWatch, Jim Cramer if I have to, and send them all kinds of information they’d be interested in. Yeah, you know what it is. You can sue me all you want. I don’t have anything worth taking. But I can destroy half your wealth in the blink of an eye with one phone call, so don’t sit there and act like an asshole.”
His eyes get huge. “Fucking hell, are you insane?” He looks away, shaking his head. “Should’ve never made a deal with that…” His words trail off as he grinds his teeth.
I pounce at his moment of weakness. “What? Deal?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just mumbling nonsense.”
“Cut the crap, Covington. You don’t mumble nonsense. You know all about Decker having us research