Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I have to stop this.
The idea pops into my mind out of the blue, but once it’s in there, I know I won’t be able to get it out. I have to put a stop to this sale.
Aunt Linda is tired. She’s worn out. She’ll take a much-needed vacation, but after relaxing on the beach for two weeks, she’ll be horrified when she realizes what she did. She’ll be desperate to get her company back, our company back, but by then, Brandon Raven will have ripped it to shreds in a cruel attempt to increase profitability, and then we’ll all be screwed.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s not in her right mind.
I know what’s best for her. I know what she really needs.
And what she needs is to keep her company.
What she needs is for me to stop the deal.
“Uh oh,” Aisha says as she looks at me funny. “Why do you have that creepy smile on your face?”
“We’re going to stop the sale from happening.”
“Sabotage?”
I shake my head. “Sabotage is a strong word… We’ll just make this Brandon Raven guy see that our company doesn’t share the same values that he does. We’ll make him see that we’re not a good fit for his massive portfolio.”
Aisha grins. “Yeah! Sabotage!”
She starts playing Sabotage by The Beastie Boys on her phone and a big grin spreads across my face.
Brandon Raven will never want to step foot in this office again after I’m done with him.
He’ll rescind the offer and flee down the street in his fancy little designer suit.
“Yes,” I whisper as we both get up and start dancing to the catchy song. He’s going to regret coming after my turf.
I’m going to make him rue the day.
For Aunt Linda, of course.
It’s all in her best interest.
That’s why I’m doing this.
Sabotaging this deal and getting this Brandon Raven character out of our lives is the most altruistic thing I can do.
She’ll thank me one day.
I’m sure of it.
Chapter Three
Brandon
“You must be Mr. Raven,” the woman at the reception desk says with a big smile when I walk in, flanked by my team. “Right on time. I’ll get Linda right away.”
I give her a polite nod as she quickly picks up her phone.
“Linda,” she whispers. “The VIPs are here.”
I’m only in the lobby, but I’m taking everything in—the decor, the vibe, even the way people are walking in the office. Are they slumped over waiting for the bell to ring, or are they zipping around with purpose and energy?
“Look at that,” my older brother Oscar says as he bumps my arm with his elbow. He chuckles as I look up.
Hanging high on the wall is a giant photo of a woman in her underwear. She’s not your typical model with her flat breasts, wrinkles, greying hair, and large cellulite-riddled thighs, but she’s beautiful nonetheless. Her body is a canvas that’s experienced life. That experience is written all over her.
“This place is weird,” Oscar whispers to me. “This doesn’t fit in with anything we’re doing. Let’s get out of this deal and bounce.”
Everyone else seems to agree. My top lawyer, Sakura, my head accountant, Mike, and my marketing director, Candice—they’re all looking confused as they look around this place.
“She’s The Sun?” Sakura whispers when she reads the sign. “Isn’t that a lyric from The Beatles? Might have to check copyright on that one.”
“Mr. Raven!” Linda McCaffrey says with a big smile as she walks into the lobby. “Thank you for coming.”
“Call me Brandon, please,” I say as I shake her hand.
“Brandon,” she says with a warm smile. “We’re up in the conference room. Please, let me show you the way.”
We follow her through the office and all eyes dart to us. This place is so unlike any of my other companies that I don’t know what to make of it.
The Hammerhead Group owns hundreds of companies, but seventeen are beauty-related companies—some small, some large, some medium like this one—and they all share the same kind of vibe. A luxurious, fashionable vibe of elegance and class.
My other employees in the beauty-related companies all seem to try and outdo each other with their choices of fashionable clothes and cosmetics like it’s some kind of unspoken competition, but these people look… normal. The woman in the orange glasses who’s peeking at me over her computer is wearing a sweater that looks like she knitted herself. Another woman with a messy bun in her hair is wearing slippers.
Oscar chuckles when he sees her. “This is a beauty company? Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
I stop abruptly, turn on my heels, and get right in his face. “Keep your fucking mouth shut,” I whisper in a threatening manner, “and show some respect to these women. This company did three hundred million in sales last year.”
“They did?” he says, looking stunned.