Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Because it’s the right thing to do, and I know that wasn’t Brock’s people making mistakes. The chef from that catering company has worked almost exclusively with Oasis Springs for the past four years, and when he talked to the health inspector, he conveniently left out the driver’s account. Nobody mentioned sending the kid to three other stores and telling him to leave the oysters in a hot van. He never mentioned the kid showing him the melted ice—which your people made sure melted quickly.”
His jaw clenches.
“What do you know? You’re just some junior copywriter who slept her way up the promotion ladder. No one is going to believe you. I can see you’re upset, and believe it or not, I won’t take much joy in launching a libel case. So pick yourself up by that pretty skirt and move on if Brock Winthrope is done using you. The door is that way.” He stabs a thumb over his shoulder.
Oh, God.
I should knee him in the balls for the crap he’s talking, but I don’t have time to worry about that right now.
I just smile.
“I’ll save your lawyers the trouble. I brought receipts, Mr. Finch. Do you think I’d be stupid enough to come see you without them?”
He glares at me, his gaunt face reddening.
“Your theory is preposterous and outlandish. I’d love to see what kind of 'proof' you think you have. You can’t prove something that never happened!”
“I was afraid you’d say that—”
“What are you doing?” he snaps.
“You didn’t let me finish. I was afraid you’d say that, so when I found out the truth about the oysters and why they caused the food poisoning, I kept digging. I found another shell company that paid ten influencers for trips to Winthrope properties. All ten left bad reviews. I tracked those influencers down. They all had a guilty conscious, so they agreed to back me up—”
“That’s it? Pathetic. Visiting a property and bombarding it with bad reviews on Google and Yelp is no crime.”
“No, but I filled them in on all the coincidences with the food poisoning incident. They were shocked at how far you’re willing to go to sink the competition. Some people actually die from food poisoning. So, they were all willing to admit they were paid to leave negative reviews on record. As any of your lawyers will tell you, that establishes a pattern of deliberate sabotage.”
His face glows redder. He throws his arms in the air wildly as he approaches, pushing me against the wall.
Oh, no.
So much for not getting cornered.
“Finch—”
“Enough! Get the hell out of here.” He’s only inches from my face now, enough to feel the disgusting spittle flying off his lips. “Get out before I drag you out mys—”
Knock-knock!
Saved by the door. I hope.
“What?” he screams, looking over his shoulder.
“Mr. Finch, I’m so sorry to bother you, but you’re expected on stage in twenty minutes for the award.”
“Fine.” He sucks in a breath and blows it out. “How much to end this stupidity and never lay my eyes on you again?”
“...what stupidity?” The question comes out before I realize what he’s talking about.
His eyes narrow.
“Don’t play dumb with me, bitch. You will not like the consequences.”
“You’re trying to bribe me? Even after I told you I have evidence?”
He rolls his eyes. “Blackmail typically is how this business works. Don’t tell me you’re here for moralizing? All beauty and no brains, I see.”
Heat rushes through my veins. “You’re so arrogant.”
“And you need to name your price and shut the fuck up. Before I make you.”
I gasp.
“You—you’ll never shut me up. A hundred trillion dollars wouldn’t make a difference. Everyone is going to know. You made people violently sick. There’s one old lady who’s still in ICU. You could have killed someone. Do you understand that? You could have murdered someone you’ve never even met over a fucking trophy.”
He closes the gap between us, invading my space, this menacing shadow of a man who looks too much like an evil scarecrow.
“Whatever proof you think you have, it’s not enough. I promise,” he whispers darkly.
“We’ll see. But that’s why I’ve been recording this little visit,” I say quietly.
He leers down, his lips peeled back. His hand flicks down his side, pushing into his pocket, where there’s the tiniest glint of metal.
A gun? A knife? What’s he—
My heart leaps up my throat and beats so loudly I’m not sure if I can even scream.
Jenn was right.
I’ve got to get out of here.
“Miss Shit-shine, I’m a gentleman at heart so I’m giving you one last chance to hand over your phone and delete everything. Understand, I’m trying to offer you an easy way out. You need to take it. You won’t like the hard way. Final warning,” he growls.
Knock-knock. Knock-knock.
“What?” he screams.
“Fifteen minutes! They’re expecting you backstage, sir,” a timid voice says behind the door.