Page 65 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
“You can sit here and try to be right, or you can listen to the man who has the ability to destroy our business. It’s your choice, but this is not going away. And while there is only a very tiny window of opportunity to make this better, everything you’ve said only makes this worse. Joe could not have been clearer. Why is this so hard? The numbers aren’t lying to you.”
“It sets a precedent.”
The hard, disapproving set of his mouth used to send a chill down my spine, and maybe this is just a temporary reprieve, but it doesn’t affect me the way it used to.
I gesture to the Manhattan skyline. “The precedent has already been set. We are so far behind precedent that we look inept. Every social media platform has taken and run with this.”
“What do I care about Facebook and Twitter?”
“Have you not been paying attention?” I close the gap between us. “Are you really that daft? Are you really so out of touch that you don’t understand that the video between Joe and me went flying around on social media at the speed of sound? The billion and a half dollars we’ve lost is social media’s doing. You don’t have to like it, you don’t have to be involved in it, but you do have to respect it. And if you don’t, so help me God, you will single-handedly tank this organization.”
“No, son. I believe that distinction goes to you.”
I shake my head. “False. Everything I said to him was everything you ever taught me. Go listen to it. I dare you. There’s not a single word I said that wasn’t something that first came out of your mouth. I wanted to handle myself differently, but I had your marching orders in my head. Following your example has only served to make me a terrible CEO and a horrible human. I’ve spent the last several days with Joseph Portelli, this guy from the docks that you’ve been looking down on, and I know more about being a better human from him than I learned from you in my entire life.”
“How dare you speak to me this way,” he says, looking down his nose. “I groomed you for this position, and I can take it away. With the snap of my fingers, I can gather the board and have you dragged out of the building.”
I remember what people said about my little performance at the company meeting, and I decide they’re right. No more.
“Do it. I dare you. Do you know what I have not and will not sign? A fucking NDA.”
My father’s eyes go wide at the language. A Wolfe never uses coarse language. It’s unrefined.
Well. Fuck that, obviously.
Putting on my coldest façade, I tell a complete truth. “I could go to any one of the news outlets within walking distance of this building and end it all for you.”
His fingers strangle the top of one of the fancy leather chairs, making it creak. “You would never.”
My lip snarls in disgust at the thought that I could’ve very well gone my whole life regurgitating my father’s bullshit.
“I very much would. And since you’ve decided to hold that over me, may I suggest you implement every last one of his suggestions right now. Call the board and get them to approve every single one. If you don’t, this house of cards will tumble down right on your head. Here’s the thing: I can take that man and start any other fucking business in the world. I could sell bespoke shoelaces, and if I put him on my board, it would be wildly successful. Billionaires, overnight. Go ahead, test me. I dare you.”
I fist my hands, willing them to stop trembling. I can’t believe I’ve just laid an ultimatum at my father’s feet. And it’s not a bluff. I’ll fucking do it.
Because I’m right.
No. Joe is right. He’s been right this whole time.
And it’s exhilarating.
My father straightens his shoulders, looking at me with dead eyes. “Fine. We’re reconvening tomorrow. I’ll step aside. Take your shot with the board. And if you try to bring this company down, I’ll blackball you from here to Tokyo.”
He walks out, leaving me in the large boardroom alone. I brace my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
I can’t fucking believe I did that.
Joe slips in, shutting the door behind him. “Are you okay?”
I straighten up quickly, a little too quickly, and he’s immediately there to steady me.
“You made several very good points today,” I say, ignoring his question. “They were hard for the board to hear, but you had the numbers to back you up. My father is angry because he can’t manipulate these numbers to look good for him. And I’ve requested that he follow all your suggestions, not just one of them.”
“How’d that go?”
“He threatened to have the board kick me to the curb.”
“Shit. Rand. I don’t want you to lose your job,” he says, moving to comfort me.
