Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,268

Brooks isn’t an asset, and I have no way of knowing just how he’s going to pay me close to the half a million I’m due. It’s not the largest sum, but it’s a deal that was public. A debt that many are aware of, and therefore, must be paid.

“Did you hear me?” My father’s voice is low as I turn from the city to face my hard maple desk, my eyes focused and narrowed on the black corded phone that came with this office. It’s at odds with the modern touches, but the line is traceable and I’ve been able to use that to my advantage more than a time or two.

“I did,” I answer although I’d rather hang up the phone altogether. I don't wait for him to reply.

“Brooks owes me more than what’s excusable. More than he’s worth.” I take my seat, leaning back and propping up my feet on the long, sleek desk.

“You can’t allow him to get away with it.” My father speaks with authority.

Brooks may be a high-up executive and think he’s untouchable, but the alcoholic, gambling degenerate is going to give me my money one way or the other. And then I’m done with him. I have enough pull to bury him if I want. I tap my fingers on the hard wood top, debating. The rap, rap, rap echoes rhythmically and calms me slightly.

I could destroy him slowly. Cripple him financially and embarrass him in every way possible. But not many would know why, and he’s too pathetic to waste that much time and effort on. No, I’ll just take my money and be through with him. He’ll hang himself on his own.

My eyes lift to the office door as a solid knock rebounds through the large space.

“Come in,” I call out as my back settles against the leather desk chair, but my fingers never stop tapping on the desk as I wait for the door to open.

Charles walks in with a mask of indifference. I’m used to it. When I first met him all those years ago at boarding school, I thought there was something more behind his dark eyes. But now I know the truth; the only emotion I’ve ever seen reflected in his eyes is anger. It's that, or nothing. And I prefer nothing to his temper.

With short pitch-black hair and eyes to match, Charles is just as lethal as he looks. He didn’t grow up with the lifestyle I’m accustomed to, but I made sure to make friends with him. It’s been mutually beneficial.

I nod toward the phone before he has a chance to speak. Sharing a glance, he quietly shuts the door behind him, a soft click the only sound in my office.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” I lean forward, speaking into the phone and preparing to hang up, knowing damn well that I won’t return the phone call. There’s nothing to discuss. He’ll see me at the next social event and until then, the only thing he’ll give me is shit over this debt.

Charles is silent as he takes a seat across from me. Placing an elbow on the arm of the chair, he stares back at me with his finger resting on his bottom lip.

Large black and white photos of the nighttime skyline decorate the wall behind him. The furnishings in my office are entirely black and white, with the walls painted a light grey. To an observer, my office may seem as if it’s a minimalist and masculine design. And that’s true, but more importantly, it suits me. Cold and simple. No room for bullshit.

I didn’t even want the fucking blown-up photos, but I needed something to make the room seem… normal. Complete, even.

“We have a problem,” Charles finally says after I've hung up the phone.

I may be deceptive. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I come off as playful and charming. They don’t see me coming. And most of my clients never have a problem with me. The legal ones, anyway. It’s a handshake and a smile, an exchange of money and profit. Those are ninety percent of my interactions. But the other ten percent, well that’s where Charles comes in. I can’t get my hands dirty. My reputation is everything.

He doesn’t attend the social galas and business openings. He doesn’t give a fuck about rubbing elbows and being seen with the right people. He meets his clients in back alleys. As far as anyone’s concerned, he’s an