Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Do I like having my dick sucked like a lollipop?”
Kliment laughs when I reply with a gag, “Fucked if I know.”
After settling his laughter, he discloses, “I can get anything back, but it takes time. I’ll need a couple of hours at least.”
I’m disappointed but understanding at the same time. “Does the driver need to stay in?”
He waits a beat before replying, “Nah.”
“I need better than a nah, Klim.”
“And I need these fuckers to stop throwing up firewalls. Anyone would swear they know I’m in.”
I know they are when the creak of an ancient floorboard screeches into my ear.
“I know what I said, Max, but this deal is too good to give up.” While spinning around to face the man creeping up on me, I point to my earpiece, hopeful he’ll believe it is part of a wireless handset for my cell while also distracting him from my hand snatching Kliment’s driver out of the monitor’s USB hub.
When I spot Leon and a goon with biceps as big as my head, I say, “He’s here if you want to speak to him. But he’ll tell you the same thing I’ve been saying the past ten minutes. Your cut of the proceeds won’t be reduced if I fight under him.”
Leon didn’t invite me to his pompous event because he likes making street kids uncomfortable in penguin suits. He heard I was searching for a new owner and wanted to show he could take me to the big leagues with his showy mansion and numerous butlers.
“Keep stalling them,” Kliment begs in my ear. “I need to remove my footprints.”
After wetting my suddenly dry lips, I lock eyes with Mr. Cabanow. “Do you want to talk to him? He’s a little offput by your proposal.”
He waves off my offer with a shooing hand movement. “Paperwork will be forwarded to him in due course. Until then, how about we keep our discussions between the stayers of your career?”
The distrust in his voice puts me on edge, but I pretend my shocked response is from an imaginary Max screaming a tirade of abuse in my ear. “Whatever, Max. You’re not the one bruising his spleen every week for a measly couple of hundred. I need more, and I’m starting to think you’re not the fucker who can give it to me.” I tap on my ear like the soft cocks in Sicily before blowing out a hot breath. “I hope you don’t mind me taking my call somewhere private. Max can make me a bit of a hot head, and I didn’t want to scare your guests.”
“I need two more minutes,” Kliment requests at the same time Leon mutters, “Not at all. Although I’m not sure why you needed to use my office. A dozen rooms veer off this hallway alone.”
I smirk before stroking his ego. It brings all the old straight guys to my side of the fence. “I wanted to see what it was like to be in the one percent.” I gesture my hand around his office. “I could only dream of having an office like this. Earning money with my fists is fun, but eventually I’m going to have to find another way to keep a roof over my head.”
“One minute,” Kliment pushes out.
As Leon gestures for his goon to stand down, he makes his way to his desk. “You’re interested in business?”
I do everything I can to keep his eyes off his monitor still churning through hundreds of files. “If it gets me an office like this, fuck yes.” Once again, I wave my hand around his pompous space. “Do you have any openings?”
He laughs, but that’s the extent of his verbal reply. His focus is on the mouse I left awry. It was sitting straight and anal when I arrived at his office. Now it’s bumped to the right of his keyboard.
With his eyes locked on the now blank screen of his monitor, Leon swivels his mouse.
I suck in a big breath when his computer wakes on the log-in screen.
Kliment is out.
“That was fucking close,” Kliment murmurs, matching my sentiments to a T. “We… got… t…”
I can’t exactly ask him to speak up, so while pretending the static in my ear is natural, I take a seat across from Leon when he nudges his head to the bulky chair.
“With the right investments and even better contacts, a couple wins could put you on track for this.” I wait, aware there is more. “But”—see—“you’ll never achieve that with representation from Maxwell Sklakovia. You need the best.”
When he leans forward to balance his elbows on his desk, I call myself a moron. I pulled out the wrong driver. Kliment’s logo is on the one still hanging out of Leon’s computer.
Fuck it.
“Are you the best, Mr. Cabanow?”
Leon smirks before slouching back in his chair. “Of course. How do you think I got this?”