Mae

There had been no time for second-guessing my decision. Not that I’d change my mind about making Clinton pay for being a complete jackass. The words were no sooner out of my mouth than Azrimin shifted us out of the closet and down to the open-space bullpen on the twelfth floor, just behind the reception area.

Confusion cut through my anger as my eyes darted around. “What are we doing here?”

Azrimin nodded toward reception and grinned. “Just wait. You’re going to want to see this.”

A split second later, a loud bang rang out from what I assumed were the glass doors to our office reception slamming open. I jumped at the sound but Azrimin remained cool.

A deep voice yelled out, “Clinton Palmer!” Then, a heavy-set white man in a suit rounded the corner and my eyes went wide. “That’s Walker Thompson,” I whispered to Azrimin, “head of one of FCA’s biggest accounts.” Taking in the state of the man, I could only think, What did I set in motion?

The man’s face was red from his obvious fury. Slamming his palms down on the reception desk, he bellowed, “Where the fuck is Clinton Palmer? He’s your president now, right?”

That receptionist was a temp and probably never setting foot in our offices again. Frozen in shock, she stared wide-eyed at him.

Likely deciding the young girl was useless, he turned from the desk and shouted to no one in particular, “Get Palmer down here now!” He roughed a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, almost like he knew if he didn’t calm down bad things would happen. Hands on his hips, he began to pace in a circle, every few seconds swearing under his breath.

When he yelled for my stepbrother once again, he caused a couple of office workers to flinch and rush past. I had to do something. I started to take a step toward him. I knew I should step in and handle it. You can do this, Mae. But then Azrimin’s arm shot out, holding me back. “Patience, honey. Don’t ruin my good job.”

I was losing faith in this whole plan. “But…”

“No buts. You ordered, I executed. Now you have to let it play out.”

“Fine.” I folded my arms across my chest. I supposed I hadn’t realized just what Azrimin had in mind when I gave him free reign to do something…at least it wasn’t anything like this, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

A minute later, Clinton was on the floor. He stalled just before reception, red-faced and panting, as if he’d taken the stairs and ran the whole way. Probably the first time he’d broken a sweat since middle school P.E.

When Walker turned and spotted him, Clinton closed the distance between them and then reached his hand out. “Mr. Thompson, so good to see you aga—”

Walker slapped Clinton’s hand away. “Are you stupid, boy! You think I came here to shoot the shit with you.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

Walker pressed right up into Clinton’s grill. “What you did was lose me billions, and you want to shake my hand?! You piece of shit.”

***

The entire floor went dead silent. While a few people rushed off to avoid the drama, many others gathered around, staring at Clinton—a few even had their phones out—waiting to see what he’d say. He’s so screwed. Because there was nothing he could say.

I shot a glance sideways at Azrimin, who looked like he was drinking up the misery coming off of Clinton in waves. As if he sensed me watching him, he turned to me, his brows bumping up a couple times comedically. Why was he enjoying this more than I was?

“Really, this is what you decided to do?”

Azrimin turned back to the scene, as if he couldn’t miss a moment. He nodded, saying, “Isn’t it beautiful? The anger. The despair! The hate…

Clinton finally tried to squeak out some words, but to his credit, he didn’t step back from the angry man. “Mr. Thompson,” he said calmly, “if we could just go upstairs, I can—”

But Walker wasn’t having any of it. This was not a man who was looking to be placated. He shoved Clinton away, hard enough that Clinton fell backward onto the ground.

“Shit,” I whispered and flinched, seeing my stepbrother being manhandled like a ragdoll.

Clinton made like he was going to get up, but Walker stepped forward in warning, and Clinton stayed down, cowering like a trapped animal.

Walker took a step backward this time. “You’re fired, FCA is fired, and it’s your goddamn fault, Clinton.” Then without another word, he stomped away toward the exit.

Clinton watched him go from his position on the ground. When Walker disappeared around the corner, Clinton awkwardly stood, brushed off his pants as if there were some imaginary crumbs. Then, almost as if at that moment, he realized there were other people around, he took in the area. He glared at the crowd, shaking his head. “None of you thought to call fucking security?” Most of them averted his gaze, some ran off as Clinton wouldn’t remember who had witnessed his beat down. Wasting no more time, Clinton stormed off, smoothing his disheveled hair as he went.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that whole scene, still processing all that went down. On the one hand, it felt good to see someone do to Clinton what I wanted to do to him, what I couldn’t do at the moment—verbally tear him down and then literally throw him to the ground. But on the other hand…we’d lost a client, a huge account at that, and that was going to hurt Fall Capital Associates just as much, if not more, than it would hurt Clinton personally. It made me think of my father, and how hard he’d worked to make FCA successful and well-respected, and I’d jeopardized that for revenge.

***

I glanced at Azrimin again and noticed he was still grinning, though his smile had gone soft, like he was basking in the aftermath. In a way, it irked me that he was enjoying it more than I was. After all, I was the one taking all the chances. I was the one paying the price. And he was over there reaping the benefits in the form of personal satisfaction.

“Ahhh… Wasn’t that…beautiful?” Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, then popped it into his mouth, almost like one would smoke after sex. “Was it good for you? It was good for me.”

I shook my head. “Hey, Mr. Self-centered, did you forget this isn’t about you?”

Instead of replying, he gave me a head tilt, like my words didn’t register. Then he placed his hand over mine and shifted us back to my office. As soon as I realized it, I pulled away, then moved over to the safety of my desk, needing something to ground me. Rubbing my hand, I threw a frown at him. “Next time, ask before you do that.”

He nodded, then moved to the desk, watching me as I sat in my chair. I was still somewhat unsettled by what had just happened. Yes, it was undoubtedly a good move—not only did it rattle Clinton’s cage but it brought him down both in the eyes of the industry and of his own workers. But…the implications were more than I’d considered. It dawned on me that in order to take down Clinton, I might have to sacrifice parts of my father’s company.

In the quiet space of my thoughts I hadn’t noticed that Azrimin had moved over to the window and was gazing out, his hands clasped behind his back. He was humming a tune I’d never heard before, and genuinely looking thrilled with what he’d done.

“I can smell you second-guessing…” he said, keeping his back to me. “I did what needed to be done. What you requested…”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Instead I feigned looking at my email while I replayed the entire sequence of events. It had all happened so fast. The power this man had at his fingertips was unnerving to say the least. Did I jump the gun on this whole thing? I shouldn’t have just given him carte blanche to do whatever he wanted. It might have worked out this time—well, of that I wasn’t sure of either—but it so easily could have gone horribly wrong.

When Azrimin finally turned from the window, his grin was so wide I could see all his teeth. Had he just been plotting all the evil things he wanted to do. The thought sent a chill down my spine, and I had to physically fight back a shudder. One thing was certain after what I’d just witnessed: I have to be more careful with my orders from now on…and I could never fully trust Azrimin.