Sullivan woke up to a buzzing by his ear. He slowly opened his eyes then shut them as the bright morning light assaulted his vision. He stretched his hand toward the infernal sound and picked up his phone.
Picking up the call, he growled, "You better have a good reason for calling this bloody early, Vito."
Vito's bored voice replied, "It's 11:36 a.m., and you have a meeting in twenty-four minutes."
Sullivan rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Move it to tomorrow."
"I'm afraid that is not possible. The partners called, and they are on their way."
Sullivan opened one bleary eye. "Fine, I'm sure you can delay the darn meeting for thirty minutes. I'll be there."
The call disconnected almost immediately.
Sullivan tossed the phone away and lay back down. There was a small knock, and his room door was pushed open. A maid walked in with a tray of food. Sullivan looked up to see who it was.
"Phoebe," he called. "Is the young miss ready for school?"
Phoebe shrugged as she dropped the tray. She tugged at the collar of her dress, revealing an alluring collarbone. She smiled seductively and made to climb the bed.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sullivan asked calmly.
The girl paused and looked up at him. Her expression was awkward, and she slowly retreated from the bed.
"I-I wanted to..." she stammered.
"Do not touch my bed without permission," he sneered. "And where is Agatha? She was supposed to bring my meal this morning."
"I offered to take her place, sir. She wasn't feeling well."
"I am not so short of maids that I would need a bed warmer to serve me food."
Phoebe froze. He could see her hands grip the corners of her skirt. He raised a brow in amusement. "You have been here for a year now, haven't you?"
She nodded stiffly.
"And yet you do not know the rules." Sullivan pulled the covers from his body. He was only wearing a pair of briefs. His body glistened in the morning light. He climbed down from the bed and walked toward her. Reaching her, he bent down to her eye level. She froze in place, not daring to meet his eyes. Up close, he could see she was shaking.
He smiled at her. "Let this be your first and last warning. If you dare touch my daughter again, there won't be a body to bury."
With a light chuckle, he sauntered into the bathroom.
When he came out, she was gone, but the tray remained. Somewhere on the bed, his phone buzzed again.
"It's barely been fifteen minutes," he grumbled. Fishing out the phone from the duvet, he frowned at the unregistered number.
He picked the call and put it on speakerphone.
There was silence at the other end. Just as he was about to disconnect the call, taking it as spam, an infuriatingly familiar voice chuckled.
"I'm hurt, you didn't save my number."
Sullivan resisted a groan and moved to disconnect the call. He would have preferred a spam call or even a phishing attempt.
"I have good news," Crimson said.
Sullivan paused. If Crimson considered it to be good news, then Sullivan didn't want to hear it.
Crimson continued, "You have been invited to move into your new home."
***
"That's all he said?" Vito asked, passing Sullivan a document.
Without looking at it, Sullivan scribbled down his signature and scoffed. "I don't know; I cut the call immediately. Invited? More like ordered."
Sullivan frowned. "How is the investigation going?"
Vito pulled out another file. This one was bulky and lined with colorful tags. Sullivan made to open it, but Vito slammed it shut.
"Look at it after the meeting. The partners have been waiting for over an hour; it's no good to antagonize them."
"What do those old geezers want now?"
Vito pushed up his glasses and stated matter-of-factly, "The oldest among them is forty... you are thirty-four... what does that make you?"
Sullivan glared at him. Vito nodded, unaffected. "They're in conference room four. Have fun."
In the conference room, Sullivan stared at the toupee on the gesticulating man's head. It really was an ugly little thing, like a bird's nest. Toupee man finished his long-winded speech and rubbed the sweat from his brows. Sullivan frowned in disgust; the room wasn't even hot.
"Is that all, Mr. Nestel, or would you need an extra hour?"
Mr. Nestel scowled. The expression marred his features and made his toupee look even more garish.
Sullivan nodded when he didn't reply. "Now, I'm not sure what the problem is because I wasn't listening, but I am quite sure you think you're in the right."
Mr. Nestel blustered in his seat. His face turned red, and he looked ready to explode or have a heart attack. Sullivan grinned at the possibility of either happening.
"I grow bored of this," Sullivan announced. He stood up and surveyed the shifty-eyed group. Since the business was officially handed over to him, this annoying pack of rats had been testing his patience. Ten years later, they hadn't changed.
"Within the month, peacefully relinquish your rights as partners, your shares, and whatever ties you to Narok Group."
"What?" Mr. Nestel shouted. The other partners stood up, banging the table in protest.
"What sort of child's play is this?" one yelled.
"You must be joking," another hissed.
Sullivan turned and walked out of the conference room without another word.
Outside, his expression turned stormy.
Vito walked over, his expression as bored as always. "I'm guessing they won't be around for the next company get-together."
"I want the lot of them bankrupt within a month. Also, find out which one of them is the mole. Especially investigate anyone particularly close to the Nestel Corporation."
Instead of heading to his office, Sullivan walked toward the elevator.
"Where are you going?" Vito asked.
Sullivan waved without turning. "On a date."
Vito raised a brow but didn't ask any further.
When Sullivan got home, it was already dark. He had messaged the painter to wait for him for dinner. Although he promised Bloom eight dates, no one said he couldn't get it over with in eight days. The sooner this charade ended, the better.
It didn't take long before he heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. The painter walked down the stairs, with Bloom in hand, wearing the most seductive red dress he had ever seen.