Page 9 of Leo
6
Leo
Rupert’s officeis just as I remember. Pretentious with a capable P.
The technology may have changed, but the snobby hardwood cabinets and the leering pictures of our ancestors on the wall make me feel like I’ve walked into some weird, blue-blood museum.
He takes a seat behind his massive desk. Leaning back with his hands behind his head he gives me his oiliest, smuggest smile. “So, dearest brother, what is it can do for you? I’m presuming you didn’t come here just so you could get in a fight with my security guards?”
“You owe this woman money,” I say. There’s no point in beating around the bush. I only came here for one reason, and the sooner I get out of this place the better. “I came here to make sure you pay up.”
He looks at Grace, his eyes running up and down her body like she’s a cheap suit. I clench my fists at my side. Trying to hold back the anger building up inside me.
“I think you must be mistaken,” he says, his voice a barely concealed sneer. “I’ve never met this woman in my life. Believe me… if I had, I’d remember.” He flicks his hand in the air, like the pretentious asswipe he is.
I’m about to reach over the desk and grab him by his shirt collar when Grace puts her hand on my arm. Holding me back.
She takes a step forward and clears her throat.
I can tell she’s nervous. Her legs are wobbling so much, I’m surprised I can’t hear the sound of her knees knocking together. But she manages to keep her head held high and look Rupert straight in the face.
I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my whole life.
I know it sounds lame. But watching her stand up for herself, watching her fight to keep her business alive, it makes me want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my whole life. I can barely keep my eyes on her as she begins to speak. My gaze glued on her luscious lips. The sound of her voice is music to my ears. The blood pumping through my body swells my cock until it’s practically straining against the denim of my jeans.
“My name is Grace Williams,” she says, “a little over two months ago, my catering company, Grace's Gourmet Kitchen, supplied the food for your annual board members meeting, and the subsequent social gathering thereafter. We were informed that the service was above satisfactory. In fact, we’ve even had people who attended the event book our services, siting the food we provided as the reason they want to hire us. I have been in contact with the accounts department multiple times. But all attempts to collect payment have failed. Unfortunately, communications have now broken down, and I have been forced to resort to…” she looks nervously at me for the first time since speaking, “more unusual methods of debt collection.”
“I see,” Rupert sits up and leans his elbows on the desk. He looks at Grace with a dark smile on his face. “And how much is it you claim our company owes you, Miss Williams?”
“Thirty-one thousand eight hundred dollars.”
“Thirty grand?” He looks from Grace to me and then back to Grace again. “You’re kidding, right? You barged in here like you're storming the beaches at Dunkirk, and all over a paltry thirty grand? Do you know how valuable my time is?”
Grace starts to say something, but now it’s my time to step forward.
“Rupert,” I growl. “I don’t care if you owe this woman thirty grand or thirty cents. We’re not leaving here until you pay up.”
He stands up and walks over to the huge floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city center. His hands are crossed behind his back. Even from the side, I can see the muscles in his jaw tensing.
“I’m disappointed in you, Leopold,” he says. “We used to have such high hopes for you, me and Pop. But now look at you. Running a measly coffee shop. Coming in here with this bimbo, begging for money like a common hobo. It’s demeaning. It’s embarrassing. It’s a smear on the good Hawthorne name.”
“The good Hawthorne name?” I laugh, stepping close behind him. I grab him by the back of the neck and push his smug face into the glass. “The words good and Hawthorne don’t even belong in the same sentence.” He struggles beneath my grip, but I’m too strong for him. “And if you ever talk to Grace like that again, I’ll make sure you’re pissing blood for a month. You understand?”
“You’re not going to get away with this,” he hisses. “I’ll ruin you, Leo. I’ll destroy your whole pathetic little life. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”
I lean in close and whisper threateningly in his ear. “No, you won’t, brother. Remember… I know where all the skeletons are buried. If you come after me, you’ll find yourself the center of a media frenzy the likes of which you have never seen. Now, be a good boy, write this woman her check and let me leave this cesspool you call a company. Just being near you is making my skin crawl.”
I let go of him and step back. He turns to me with hate in his eyes. But he’s not stupid enough not to know when he’s beaten.
The truth is, I have so much dirt on my family, I could ruin them in a matter of minutes. He knows it. I know it. He’s just always counted on me being too much of a decent person to stoop to his level. But now he can see the look in my eyes. That I’d do anything for this woman. Even if it is only over a matter of thirty thousand dollars.
It’s simple math, really. He pays Grace the money, and I go away. He can carry on with his life like I don’t exist. And I can do the same.
He sits back down in his chair. Avoiding eye contact with us. The only sound in the room is that of his fountain pen scratching across the paper in his checkbook.
He tears the check out and pushes it across the desk, spinning his chair around so he doesn’t have to look at us a second longer.
I nod to Grace, who leans over and picks uptimes the check. She reads it. Tears well up in her eyes. She mouths silently to me, “thank you.”
“Come on,” I say, giving her my arm and marching out towards the exit. “Let’s get out of this shithole.”
