Page 69 of The Contract

I don’t let my expression betray anything as I study him. He’s dressed the part—expensive loafers, tailored slacks, and a crisp button-down rolled up at the sleeves to feign effortlessness. But effortlessness isn’t something you can buy, and his brand of casual reeks of trying too hard.

I’ve seen men like him before.

Men who want to be important but don’t have the spine or the skill to get there.

He’s a parasite. The kind that latches onto something greater because he knows he’ll never build anything of his own.

The introductions are brief, and I offer a firm handshake, gripping just a little harder than necessary when he clasps mine. A test. A challenge.

Adrian meets my eyes with a smirk. He already knows who I am. He already doesn’t like me.

Good.

The feeling is mutual.

“Damien Wolfe,” he drawls as he leans back, spreading his arms across the chair like he owns the place. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” I reply smoothly, though we both know that’s not true. I didn’t bother learning his name until this morning, which is probably more thought than anyone else has given him.

Mr. Calloway, oblivious to the silent battle taking place, gestures toward the drinks on the table. “Pour yourself something, boys. This weekend is about relaxing and business.”

Marcus reaches for the decanter, pouring himself a two-finger glass of whiskey before offering it to me. I wave him off.

“Not for me.”

Adrian’s eyes gleam like he’s already found his first foothold. “Ah. Too disciplined for a drink? Or worried you’ll lose your edge?”

The corners of my mouth twitch, but I keep my tone measured. “I don’t need whiskey to sharpen my game.”

Calloway chuckles, clearly amused, while Adrian tilts his head, still smirking like we’re old friends.

The meeting begins, and for the first few minutes, it runs smoothly.

Calloway lays out his expectations, Marcus backs up our due diligence, and I present key points on why the merger is the best move for his company’s expansion.

And then Adrian starts talking.

At first, it’s subtle. A casual question here, a comment there, all under the guise of curiosity. But I see it for what it is—a slow, deliberate attempt to plant doubt.

“That’s an optimistic projection,” he muses, studying one of the reports we provided. “I’d love to see the analytics that back it up.”

“You have them in front of you,” I reply smoothly. “Page sixteen details the revenue forecast with a conservative projection alongside it.”

He flips a few pages with exaggerated slowness. “Mmm. Even the conservative number seems ambitious.”

“It’s not. The industry trends are favorable, and with the increased market share this merger provides, the growth trajectory is well within reason.”

Adrian hums like he’s unconvinced. “Still… even with the right market conditions, the timing is aggressive.”

“It has to be,” I counter. “There’s a small window to capitalize on these shifts before competitors move in. The sooner we finalize this deal, the better positioned Calloway Holdings will be.”

He nods, considering, before turning to Mr. Calloway. “I assume you’re comfortable with moving this fast? It’s not rushed in your opinion?”

The bait is so obvious it’s insulting, but it works.

Calloway leans back, stroking his chin. “I trust Damien’s strategy, but it’s a fair question. We are moving quickly. What’s your response to that, Wolfe?”

Adrian hides his smirk behind his glass of bourbon.

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