Let's Play A Dirty Ass Game, Mr. CEO

Chapter 71: JUST THE TIP

LAURA

Fuck him. Over and over again.

It’s the only thing on my mind as I took the phone from Tristan and tapped a finger against the speakerphone...and honestly...it wouldn’t be so bad to actually fuck him again. "Hello?"

"Mr. Pierce?" a raspy voice echoed in the office.

"No, this is Laura Hayes, Pierce’s new partner."

"Oh." A pause hung over the line for a few moments, then the voice asked. "Well can you put him on the line?"

I glanced over at Tristan. He urged me on with a small nod, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Go on," he mouthed. "Speak to him."

I cleared my throat and summoned the courage to speak to a stranger who I’d never met. Perfect opportunity to prove myself and show Tristan I was very much capable of handling shit.

"I’m sorry, Mr... uhm—"

"Michael Warren," the man offered in the same raspy voice. He sounded like he smoked a lot.

"Yeah, Mr. Warren, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to talk to me right now. Mr. Pierce is not available to come to the phone."

There was a long pause on the line, long enough for the lawyer to decide if he wanted to talk to a fellow stranger or get the fuck off the line.

Then.

"What do you want to talk about?"

I heaved a deep sigh and ran a smooth hand over my hair. "Pierce is ready to settle." I paused, waiting for the words to sink in before I landed the blow. "But you’re going to have to convince your client to be at this meeting. Think you can do that?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, that works if you agree to our settlement terms."

"We have to meet to talk about it. Let’s trash this out before it gets to court, Mr. Warren."

"Sure. I’ll get back to you."

Before I could thank him for not giving me a headache, or drop one last line to convince him, the line beeped dead in my ear.

I glanced up from the screen to see Tristan watching me.

"So?" he asked, cocking a brow.

"He should be getting in touch with her right this minute," I said with surprising confidence. "Said he’ll give us a call back."

Tristan tipped his head in a stiff nod and held out his hand for his phone. "Well done."

I handed the phone back to him and squared my shoulders. "You’re welcome."

Ms. Stevenson was still standing awkwardly by the desk when I turned around. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked when my eyes collided against hers.

I shook my head firmly, offering her a tight but polite smile. "No, thank you."

Shortly after I took my seat, Tristan’s phone rang again and he took the call and listened. Then he hung up and started towards the floor-to-ceiling window, loosening his tie. "They’ll get here in less than fifteen minutes."

"Oh, great."

His fingers flew across the keyboard quickly, then he pocketed his phone and prowled around restlessly for the next ten minutes, like a caged animal.

It got so uncomfortable that Ms. Stevenson had to excuse herself to go check on the sales. I knew she just wanted an escape from the suffocating energy coming off Tristan in waves.

"So, how do you intend to determine if this is a scam or not?"

I folded my arms and fixed him with a level gaze. "I have my ways. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Tristan grinned. He actually grinned, the first pleasant expression on his face in the past half hour. "You know it’s only the tip."

"What?" My face heated up and my jaw snapped open. I wasn’t sure what we were talking about again because somewhere along the line...while staring at his face...I’d forgotten how to speak or use my brain.

"You’ve only just satisfied the tip of my curiosity," he emphasized, eyes sparkling with mischief. Of course he knew what he was doing. Asshole.

"Well how about you just let me do my thing?" I pushed to my feet, suddenly nervous and too hot under his gaze. And he seemed to notice my discomfort because he walked back to the desk and watched me from a close range, heightening my discomfort.

Prick.

"I can give you a little something to help with the nerves, if you want."

"Like what?"

"Whatever you want." Keeping the lazy grin on, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and retrieved a small flask. "But I’ll start by offering this."

My eyes moved from the flask to his blue eyes. "What is this?"

"Booze. Not poison."

I rolled my eyes and snatched the flask from him, thankful but not mentioning it. He watched me as I tossed it down my throat and struggled to not wince from the burn.

It helped with the nerves alright, but it also made me hyper aware of everything around me, including Tristan and the made he made everything else appear super duper small.

Thankfully, Tristan’s lawyer joined us soon. And few minutes after he arrived, Mr. Warren arrived with the influencer.

Their arrival was announced by a commotion outside the store. Apparently, people had swarmed like bees when they saw Cara Montero step out of the black van and catwalk into the store.

I watched the shapely, honey-blond with narrowed eyes, my jaw twitching.

She smacked bubble gum in her mouth recklessly as she walked into the office, eyes snapping from one face to the other. "Who’s in charge here? Are you ready to compensate me or?"

I turned to her slowly, taking in her cowgirl statement boots and tattered shorts.

I knew her type too well.

Tristan was looking at her, contemplating the best way to approach the situation. But I jumped in quickly. "Please have a seat. Thank you for joining us."

Everyone moved to the table. The lawyers. Tristan. Ms. Stevenson who had returned to the office.

Everyone except Cara Montero.

Her sharp eyes flicked to my face and her Botox misshapen face scrunched in concentration. "I know you." She paused, looking like she’s in deep thought. "That fashion lady. Phoenix?"

"Right." I gave her my best polite smile as I took my seat at the table. "Shall we get started, please?"

The meeting commenced only after her ranting, with her lawyer tabling the case and the damages it had done to her and her brand.

Apparently, she had lost more than two hundred followers who thought she now resorted to using fake costumes for her content.

At some point, Tristan could no longer hold his boredom within him. "Can we skip all these and get to the settlement part?" His eyes found mine across the table and he seemed to be telling me something with his eyes.

"Sure." Mr Warren cleared his throat and whispered something in his client’s ears. She whispered something to him as well.

Then he straightened and pretended to read shit on the papers before him. "My client demands a compensation of two million dollars for—"

Tristan scoffed, cutting the man off bluntly. "For an outfit she got for less than five hundred grand?"

"I told you, it’s fake!"

I stepped in again, my tone hard. "Do you think you can prove it to us, Ms. Montero?"