Page 96 of Seeing Grayscale

“Fuck,” Alex barks when his alarm goes off. “Your nine o'clock is about to be here.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat and running my hand over my button-down. “Alright. I’ll—”

“You’ll do what I am telling you to. When am I ever wrong?”

“Never,” I whisper.

“Exactly.” He walks over to me, gives me a brief hug, then disappears out through the door.

I straighten my spine, slip on my mask, and wait for my potential new investor.

Xavier Malone.

This man is a shark.

I spotted the signs when he walked into my office twenty minutes ago.

An investor should see the company for what it is, revel in how we operate, and want to be a part of it. That’s the whole point of putting money into it. But Xavier Malone only points out the flaws. The way some of our accounts are teetering above red. How my absence over the past few weeks has negatively impacted said accounts, and what do I plan on doing with it once I run for governor.

I don’t know how the fuck he knows that last part, but I tread carefully.

“It seems to me that you are in the market for more than an investor,” he says. The pungent rank of his cologne stinks up my entire office.

The man is well dressed, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. With flashy jewelry and a watch that costs more than a car, his eggplant suit jacket parts more when he leans forward, flashing me a row of straight white teeth. He’s attractive, well spoken, and carries himself like a king. I want to know what empire he runs. Because two days ago, I’d never heard of the man.

“We are perfectly capable of settling the FlightCore account,” I say simply, ignoring his jab.

He smiles wider. “Of course.”

“And my political ambitions aside, we have infrastructures in place to assure that if my attention is placed elsewhere, the company will still operate as usual.”

A cocky smirk. “I’m sure it does. But rumor has it that OAT is scaring off clientele left and right. Especially after that nasty smear campaign on Ed.”

Only my dad’s close friends call himEd—them and my mother. My hackles are rising, and goosebumps skate down my arms, but I remain still, keeping my mask of indifference firmly in place.

“As you said, it was a smear campaign. Political warfare that holds no merit here.”

“The senate says otherwise.” Now, the smile drops. He drums his fingers over the armrest, studying my lack of reaction. Lifting his left leg to drape over his right knee, he clicks his tongue. “It would be in your best interest to consider selling entirely. Without your backers, OAT will quickly drown in debt. You aren’t the only supplier on the west coast, and with the tensions rising, I highly doubt that any reputable airline will want to work with a scheming bastard’s queer son.”

At that, my mask cracks.

“Excuse me?” I snap, adjusting my tie to relieve some pressure on my throat.

“You heard me.” Another placating smile. “Think about it, Mr. Kade. You have my card.”

Who thefuckis this guy?

I watch him stand before I scramble to my feet. He might be threatening me, might know more than he has any right to, but I extend my hand regardless. Sliding his palm into mine, he useshis grip and tugs me forward. Peppermint hits my face, wafting off his breath as he looks me dead in the eye.

“I have a wide variety of investments, Mr. Kade—awidevariety. My resources are limitless, and my eyes are everywhere. You fuck with my investments, I will open the door hiding all those ugly secrets. Edward’sand yours.” He slaps my shoulder, beams at me, then spins on his heel like he didn’t just threaten to eradicate life as I know it.

FORTY-ONE

Idon’thaveahigh school diploma or a GED.

Somewhere in my delusions, I thought that it wouldn’t matter. How many people actually check that shit?

After theinfuriatingtask of setting up an email, I filled out a few applications, lied, and sent them on their merry way. Making a resume was pointless, so I didn’t even try.

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