Page 1 of Trust Me

CHAPTER1

Kyle

"I’m about to ruin this motherfucker’s birthday,” I say to my cousin as I glare across the private room of the exclusive nightclub, The Black Opal.

"Wait for me,” I tell Diego.

“I’m not your fucking lackey,” he gripes.

Still, I head directly toward my target.

“Kyle, you came,” Jayceon Carlson says, grinning.

The crystal chandeliers hanging overhead make the flickering lights from the candles reflect off the blood red velvet walls. The unopened bottles of champagne that come complimentary with the twenty-thousand-dollar price tag for each table remain in their gold coolers surrounded by ice.

Sam Tinnesz’ “Play with Fire”booms from the hidden speakers, which seems appropriate.

A smile spreads my lips, but it’s not friendly in the least. However, Jayceon doesn’t recognize that.

I allow the smile on his face to linger a little longer when I reply, “It’s your special day.”

I undo the last button of my suit jacket as I look Jayceon over, barely able to hide my contempt for the bastard.

He chuckles and glances to his left and right. He’s flanked by several of his employees, and also shrouded in women.

“Guess it only took me turning thirty-five to get this guy out of the office for once, huh?”

My top lip curls.

“He lives like Townsend Industries is his entire life.”

The semi-smile I was sporting drops. This douche has no fucking clue. The women and men around him nod in agreement and giggle. The sounds grate on my nerves.

Stepping closer, I extend my hand. “I couldn’t let this opportunity pass.”

He shakes my hand, but when he goes to pull it back, I tighten my grip. With my free hand, I wrap him up in a hold that, to an outsider, might look semi-friendly.

It’s not.

“Especially when tonight will be the end of your career as you know it,” I say loud enough for only him to hear.

He blinks in confusion. “What?”

I’m not given time to reply before we’re interrupted by a member of The Black Opal staff.

“Sir, we’ll bring your cake out shortly,” the waitress in skintight, shiny black leggings and a midriff shirt says. It’s not the usual outfit for private waitresses at The Black Opal. This leads me to conclude Jayceon put in a special request for the uniform for his party.

Douchebag.

“Kyle, whatever’s on your mind, we can discuss it another time,” he says, like this isn’t the last conversation we’ll ever have.

“That won’t be possible.” I tighten my hold around his shoulders. “As the heir apparent to Carlson Healthcare & Co., you’ve already ruined the business your father started two decades ago. You did it by fucking with my family.” I say the last part with so much venom that Jayceon visibly recoils.

“Everybody who knows me knows I don’t mind a little friendly competition. Hell, I almost prefer it if it’s a little unfriendly. It keeps everyone on their toes. The heart of what makes a business successful is competition in the market. Yet,” I pause and look Jayceon directly in the eye, “you crossed the fucking line when you went after my family.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he lies.

I know full well he’s behind the series of reports that’ve come out about supposed bribes, blackmail, and violence by my family to secure business deals. Some articles even intimated that the community center my mother, aunts, and grandmother started was nothing more than a front to funnel money into illegal dealings.

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