Page 4 of Following His Orders
“Yes, with me. Do you have a problem with that, Miss Johnson?” My gaze bores into hers.
“No,” she says, quickly looking away.
* * *
“Sir, your ten o’clock is here.”My secretary’s voice fills my office.
I press the button on the intercom. “Send them in, Tracey.
Then I check my calendar and groan. My ten o’clock is with Randall Clive, CEO of the Clive Corporation. He’s beyond the age of retirement. He knows it, I know it, and his sleazy grandson, who’s presently chomping at the bit to get his hands on the family business, knows it too. Clive has been a client of mine for the past five years. His corporation is comprised of multiple business ventures. If there’s an industry for it, you can guarantee that Old Man Clive is trading in it. Word on the street is that he came to Australia with nothing, built his company up from money he made running scams. Of course they’re unsubstantiated rumours—not that I give two shits how he made his way in this world.
What I do care about is the fact that his grandson, Billy, is about to inherit the whole damn lot. Five billion dollars in net worth. If he weren’t the slimy little bastard he is, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t be meeting with Clive in an attempt to get him to put some kind of safety measures into the change of ownership contracts he’s about to sign.
I happen to like Old Man Clive. I also know watching everything he’s worked for, for the past seventy years go down the drain or up his grandson’s nose—which is the more likely scenario—will be what puts him in the grave. I’d like to see the geezer enjoy retirement for at least a little while.
The door opens, and Tracey lets Mr Clive in before shutting it again.
“Randall, how’ve you been?” I ask, standing and holding a hand over the desk between us.
Randall’s grip is firm as he shakes my offered palm. “As good as can be when you’re on the way out,” he says.
“From what I hear, retirement is just the start, not the end,” I tell him before reclaiming my seat.
Randall fills one of the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. “From what I hear, it’s a whole lot of sitting around and waiting for the man upstairs to decide it’s your time.”
“That’s… grim,” I say.
“It is what it is. What can you do about it? I’m sure my pending doom is not what you called me in here for, Nathan,” he says in his usual no-nonsense tone.
“It’s not. The contract for the handover,” I say, picking up the manilla folder. “We need to put some safety measures in here for you, for your wife.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re only taking twenty percent of the company profits for the duration of your retirement,” I state.
“I’m aware.”
“Have you thought about what happens if there are no profits?” I ask.
“Nathan, you’ve been my attorney long enough to know that Clive Corp is not a struggling enterprise.”
“Under your management, it’s thriving. But you’re stepping down, Randall. What happens when your grandson takes control?”
“Are you saying my grandson isn’t fit to run the company he has been training to take over for his whole life?” Randall asks bluntly.
Well, yes, I am.I don’t say what I’m thinking though. Instead, I do what I do best. Bullshit my way through negotiations. “Not at all. I think he’ll do a bang-up job. However, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t plan for the worst-case scenario. Don’t risk everything you’ve built.”
“What exactly are you suggesting, Nathan?” he asks.
“I want to add a clause. If the company profits drop below seventy percent of what they are today, an independent analyst is to run a report.”
“Fine, add it in, but we won’t need it,” Randall says with confidence I don’t feel.
The door to my office bursts open, and Bentley steps inside. When her eyes meet mine, she freezes midstep. “Miss Johnson?” I raise my eyebrows in question.
Usually anyone with the audacity to just enter my closed office, without so much as a knock first, would be on the receiving end of my wrath. That being said, I can’t help but be amused when it comes to the look of shock and horror that crosses Bentley’s face as her eyes go from me, to Randall, and back again.
“I, uh… I finished up with HR,” she says, straightening her shoulders.