Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Eric’s eyes didn’t leave his as he grabbed a small crystal trinket of some sort from his desk and rolled it along his palm. The man then gave a loud sigh.
“I’m a guy who loves his job as much, if not more, than you do. I would bet on that. Every day I wake up, Eric, I walk into this place feeling like I hit the jackpot. I’d almost do this for free.” He cleared his throat while Eric kept rolling that clear bauble over and over in his big hand. “That doesn’t absolve me, though, of what happened, and what I am personally responsible for due to a past mistake. You see, I am bein’ blackmailed, Eric. Asked to compromise this company, my fellow colleagues, and indirectly tarnish your name. I am being told that if I don’t give private information to this particular person, for his own company to benefit, that he will tell you who he believes I really am, hence, ruining my career and reputation.”
“You’re being extorted?”
“Attempted extortion, yes.”
Smetana’s, ‘Vltava (The Moldau)’ started to play. The music seemed to be getting louder. Mocking him.
Eric’s jaw tightened. He placed the crystal ornament back down, then clasped his hands atop his knees. Two sharp gray eyes pierced him as the music drifted all around them, flitting about and touching their ears like some malevolent fairy.
“I’m going to ask you a question. Answer with a simple yes or no, Roman. Have you done anything illegal while working here, internship included, in which you provided confidential company intel, or client information that could blemish this corporation’s status and/or public image due to your actions?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Very good. Now, who is attempting to force you to conduct illicit practices against this company and me?” If it wasn’t clear before, it was now. This shit was personal to Eric.
“It’s my grandfather.”
Eric cocked his head to the right and looked at him like a dog observing a cat dressed in a three-piece suit, riding a tricycle down a busy road.
“How strange, and definitely unfortunate.” Eric grunted. The man’s thick Southern dialect was much like his own. They both controlled it while speaking to clients from all over the world, only allowing it to flow loosely in non-business circles, or in private. When feeling rather silly, amused, or pissed the fuck off, that rule was out the window. The accent got heavy like torrential rain. Eric sounded like a true cowboy now. He was on the saddle. Roman could relate. “What’s his name?”
“My grandfather’s name is Cyrus Wilde. Owner of Wilde Enterprises.”
Eric leaned farther back in his seat and stroked his silky silver goatee. A glint of familiarity cleared his eyes. Roman wanted to ask if he knew of the demon being discussed, if that horrid person rang a memory bell, but perhaps that would open doors of dialogue that were better left closed.
“How did this happen?”
The question Eric posed was simple enough, but at the same time complicated as hell. Did Roman need to start with when he was born, and explain the strange familial dynamics of an ostracized son and dysfunctional upbringing that almost caused him to turn into a psychopath? Or did he start with the most recent incident that let him know without a shadow of a doubt that it was time to tell on himself, so help him God?
“I’m going to explain this to you as succinctly as possible. What happened is,” he paused, looking down at his shoes, trying to find the right words, “…my grandfather wishes for me to work for him and has wanted that for many years. I have refused. He has recently discovered that I participated in some unsavory activities many years ago and is holding it over my head. He obtained this information not from me directly, but unlawfully, by orchestrating a break-in at my home. That’s beside the point though and doesn’t refute what I did. I am focused on taking responsibility for my part in this.”
He rubbed his hands together and mustered the courage to continue. “One silver lining, Eric, is that my misconduct can’t be criminally prosecuted. It occurred in my early twenties, and the statute of limitations has come and gone, but the stigma of such a thing will live—”
“Forever.”
“Yes.” Something Roman rarely felt began to consume him. Nibble at him like some starving rat gobbling down spoiled eggs and stinking rancid cheese.
Shame.
“Did your attorney grant you permission to discuss this situation with me, even the possibly felonious elements?”
“Yes.”
Eric snatched his landline phone from his desk and dialed out.
“Marigold. Please let the others know I am not able to attend the meeting this morning. Offer my apologies to the committee via an email, but don’t cancel it. They can continue without me.”
“Yes, Mr. Dearborn. Is there someone else you wish to send, in your place?”