Page 103 of Brutal

His eyes meet mine, and I swear he’s laughing at me internally.

“Drake, you’re a… controversial figure. I’m sure you know that.”

I bite back the urge to growl at him like a fucking caveman. Instead, I quirk a brow, gesturing for him to continue as I settle back into my seat. “Sure. Who among us hasn’t stirred up a little controversy now and again?”

“But that doesn’t excuse the damage you’ve done to us over the years,” George continues. “The drugs, the partying, the many women who have posted on social media about your unsavory ways?—”

“Really?” Hunter interrupts, impatient. “Social media rumors? Who reads that drivel?”

Chase laughs and claps Hunter on the back. “You’re the only person who doesn’t keep up with social media, Hunter.” He looks at George again. “You were saying? Something about unsubstantiated rumors?”

George falters, apparently not having planned on a peanut gallery. “Substantiated rumors, Vicious. We’ve all been invited to his parties. We’ve all been pressured to participate in all of his vices.”

“I thought your feelings would be hurt if I didn’t invite you,” I drawl. “So yeah, I asked Caroline to send you invites. I’d need to hear this supposed pressuring for myself. Maybe the drugs you say I was taking addled my brain and I just don’t remember. Or maybe…” I give him one of Mimosa’s most deadpan looks, “you’re just wrong.”

“I don’t know, you were keen to share the drugged-out whores last year,” Oliver says with a sneer. “I know at least one of them is thinking about suing you. We don’t want the fallout of that on our hands either, and we can’t keep paying off all your mistakes.”

“So let me get this straight,” I say, leaning forward and feigning calm as much as I can despite how badly I want to just start breaking things — starting with Oliver’s arms and legs. Mimosa is here. Hunter and Chase are here. We can get through this. “You’re accusing me, in front of the board, of taking drugs, of throwing wild parties, of having sex, of soliciting women for other people to have sex with, of pressuring others to engage in my nefarious ways, and the company is apparently paying out reparations for these things?”

“He isn’t wrong,” Rachel Stellar interrupts. “Drake, half the articles about you are about how unhinged you are. When’s the last time you interviewed with somebody who actually liked you? No, you’re so fucking unpopular our stock value goes up the longer you stay out of the news.”

The worst part is that she’s not entirely wrong.

Before Mimosa, I hadn’t been a very good businessman for a long time. Sure, I can be charismatic when I want to be, but I hadn’t wanted to be during those ridiculous interviews. The only saving grace was that I’d skipped so many in the past few months that the stock value never dipped dramatically.

“Then I guess it’s good that the only way I’ll be in the news is if someone leaks your attempts to drop me from the board, seeing as how the stocks are doing great right now. I don’t think the shareholders would appreciate you tanking them when there’s been no evidence of wrongdoing beyond my purported social image,” I say, starting to get impatient. It feels like ants are marching down my arms, and sweat starts to break out on the back of my neck.

Fuck.

What had I actually done? I don’t remember any epic fuckups that had gone to the media, and there haven’t been any settlements in at least six months. The timing of their attack is actually strange, unless Patrick blabbed.

I’d told Chase, Hunter, and Mimosa that I was screwed, but they hadn’t believed me.

“Well, since you’re bringing it up,” George says with a wide smile. “I propose we vote to remove Drake Brutal as CEO. He hasn’t contributed anything meaningful to the company in years, and we need new blood to bring the company back in line.”

There’s a murmur from the rest of them. All eyes are on me, boring into me, wanting to tear me apart and leave my pieces for the rats.

My mouth is dry as I try to force words out. Anything to stop this from happening.

But I can’t.

I can’t get a single word out, and my breathing starts to quicken.

A warm hand touches my shoulder.

“Breathe,” Mimosa whispers in my ear. “It’s not over yet.”

It feels like it is, though. It feels like it’s the end of the world.

I should’ve just stayed in bed.

“Question,” Hunter says, drawing attention away from me. “Do you have a replacement lined up?”

I grit my teeth and remind myself that Hunter is playing his part. He isn’t betraying me.

George nods. “Oliver is going to be interim CEO, until we can interview candidates, but I have several lined up?—”

Going to be.