Page 80 of Wed to the Devil

The waiter approaches our table and takes our orders. My grandfather orders the full rack of prime rib, his signature dish, while I order a New York strip, though I'm not really hungry. The smell of the steak wafts through the air, and my mouth salivates at the rich aroma.

We spend time catching up on family news as we wait for our meal. Mostly my grandfather brings up a relative and then proceeds to go into a vitriolic rant about how they are embarrassing him and living their life wrong.

I keep my mouth shut and listen, nodding every so often. A few months ago, I would have listened to Remy's diatribe without a critical thought. It's funny that it took Talia pointing out how toxic Remy can be for me to finally open my eyes to the fact.

The food arrives shortly after, juicy pieces of steak perfectly seasoned with spices like garlic powder and paprika before being cooked to perfection. The potatoes are buttery and light, while the salad is fresh and crisp. A glass of red wine is brought with both our steaks; it's truly an experience fit for royalty.

I take a deep breath before finally plunging into the conversation that will dictate my future. "Sir, I wanted to ask you for a favor. I want to fund a project that I'm passionate about: deep sea drilling."

He pauses, then takes another bite of steak. He looks at me with piercing eyes. "Out with it," he demands.

I take a deep breath and explain why this project is so important to me. Deep sea drilling can open up an entirely new frontier of energy resources, and it could revolutionize how we think about energy production in the future. It's something that not only interests me personally, but could have major implications on the global economy as well.

Remy considers what I've said for a moment before responding. "It's an interesting idea," he says slowly. "But why should I fund your project? What makes it worth my investment?"

I take another deep breath and explain how my research has been ongoing for years now, and how I have consulted with top scientists and engineers in the field to develop better technologies that make this possible. Not only is it economically viable, but it could also be very beneficial to the environment if done correctly.

Remy goes still, his faintly twitching muscles and rheumy eyes blinking slowly the only evidence that he isn't dead. He puts his hand on his chin, his expression pensive. I look at the ground, hoping he's mulling the idea over.

"I can't believe you have the nerve to bring this up to me again." He scratches his chin. "I already told you that Morgan Drilling isn't going to fund your stupid little fantasy."

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. I know I'm not going to win this argument, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try.

"Remy, when you're gone, who do you think is going to be in charge of Morgan Drilling?" I ask him pointedly. "Me."

Remy's eyes narrow. "And why should I trust you with my legacy?" he asks.

"Because when I'm in charge," I say confidently. "I plan on investing more money into research and development so we can find the next source for America's energy needs. We need to get away from relying on oil and gas so much because not only is it bad for the environment—it's also becoming increasingly unreliable."

Remy looks at me skeptically before taking another bite of his steak. He chews slowly as he considers my words. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks again. "You're an idiot," he says gruffly. "America will never give up oil and gas as our primary sources of energy—not while they still make money from it."

I slam my fist against the table in frustration—not hard enough to break anything, but enough to get Remy's attention. "That's the problem with you!" I shout angrily. "You are so short-sighted and stubborn! We need people with vision. People who can look towards the future and see where this industry needs to go next!"

Remy slams his fist on the table, and I have to take a step back. He is seething with rage, and I can feel the tension between us rising.

"I built Morgan Drilling from the ground up, Dare!" he shouts. "It took years of hard work and dedication to get it to where it is today! You should respect that!"

I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite his anger. "I do respect what you've done," I say firmly. "But times are changing, and we need to change with them if we want to stay competitive."

Remy looks at me skeptically, his expression unreadable. I can tell he's still not convinced.

"What are you planning to do differently?" he asks.

I take another deep breath and explain my vision for the company. "If I inherit Morgan Drilling, I want to expand our operations into oil and gas extraction," I say. "We could use traditional methods like drilling or fracking, but we could also look into other avenues like thermal stimulation or steam-assisted gravity drainage."

Remy's brow furrows in confusion. "Tell me more about the new processes," he says, his tone of voice gruff.

"Thermal stimulation involves using heat to help extract oil and natural gas from the ground," I explain. "And steam-assisted gravity drainage uses steam injection to loosen up deposits before pumping them out. Plus deep sea drilling, which is self-explanatory."

Remy continues to look skeptical, but at least he seems slightly curious now. He takes another sip of his wine as he considers my words. After a few moments of silence, he speaks again.

"Do you really think this will work?" he asks doubtfully. "I mean, how much additional market share do you think these methods could possibly get us? We already hold eleven and a half percent."

I nod slowly.

"At least four times our current market share," I reply firmly. "These methods are proven and reliable—and they're much more cost effective than traditional drilling techniques."

He doesn't look at all convinced. I lean forward, lowering my voice.

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