Page 84 of Hate to Love You

Less than ten minutes later I find that I am one of seven people seated around the Nikotech executive conference table.

“I don’t know how, but somehow Cillian McCleary managed to pull the resource funding together and is about to out-maneuver us on the Walston Street deal,” Roman growls. “Which cannot happen.”

The table full of giant burly men, who were all so animated seconds before setting foot in this room, are now all as silent as the grave.

“It cannot fucking happen!” Roman suddenly shouts, slamming his hand down hard on the table.

Tensing, I stare at him, admiring the clear fury that this man is, his rage palatable. Even from my seat, a few feet away, I can see the vein in his neck throbbing.

“So, what are we going to do about it?” He asks.

However, it is at that exact moment that I slowly feel six other pairs of eyes fall to me, the weight of them nearly suffocating me.

“Don’t worry about Miss Wayne,” Roman says, without looking up at them. “She’s been reminded of her duties, her limitations, and also to forget anything and everything you say here.”

Cocking my head, my eyes pass over each and every one of the men in this room, each one of them well built, tattooed and terrifying.

Only a handful of them look like they actually belong in a suit, the rest of them look out of place and uncomfortable in the crisp suits they wear. Almost as if they are rarely worn.

Or perhaps they’re all just rich enough that they can afford to wear a new one each day.

One by one their eyes drop from mine, returning back to Roman as I fill my lungs with air, finally able to breathe clearly again.

“From what I understand, his funding is with the bank,” Cal offers cautiously. “If we could figure out which bank, and who helped him do it, perhaps we could…intervene.”

Without missing a beat, Roman walks over to me, snapping his fingers before leaving his palm outstretched. Caesar to my left immediately sits up, staring expectedly up at Roman.

“Oh, sorry!” I say, clearing my throat as I quickly rummage through the stacks of papers he gave me for safekeeping, before handing a file over to him. He slides it over to Cal.

Without thinking, I reach over and scratch Caeser behind his ear, and his tail starts thumping against the floor, drawing Roman’s attention.

He blinks, looking between me and the dog with confusion before shaking his head and turning back to his men.

“I had Ana track that down,” Roman nods to the file. “I believe there’s a name. But then what?”

“Well, we could always try it my way,” Jacques smiles wickedly. “As you know, I’m very good at getting people to do things they don’t want to do.”

“Yeah, you sick fuck,” Noah snorts. “That’s because you just love to hear the screaming.”

“Jesus,” Oleg mutters.

Hold up… screaming?

I thought this was a business meeting?

I know that my lack of experience in a corporate position is likely showing, but… I don’t think business takedowns usually involve screaming, well, at least not the way he’s implying.

“Does he have any…leverage?” The big guy named Boris growls in a thick Russian accent. “And if so, what are we talking? Wife and kids? Sick grandma?”

“Well, as my father used to say,” Roman says with a shrug. “You can’t avoid that which is meant to happen.”

Holy fucking shit.

My fingers freeze over the laptop that Roman basically threw at me, all rational thought exiting my brain.

Thankfully my mental implosion is momentarily halted, when there is a gentle knock at the conference room door.

“What?!” Roman bellows.