He just smiles. "And that puts you in a compromising situation."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I have photos."
Great. Now this is getting personal. Really personal. "What kind of photos?" I ask.
"Of both you and Abby … ones I doubt you'd want circulated."
All of a sudden, it fucking dawns on me. I put a name to his face. I know who this fucking guy is.
"Wait a minute … you're Grady O'Sullivan, of Bad Boy Publishing."
"Indeed, I am," he says, nodding. His hands are still shoved in his pockets.
Now it all makes sense. This is the guy Abby told me all about… her ex; the man with the tiny cock who fucked her over with Alyssa Moore. The guy who apparently likes sloppy seconds. I walk to the door and open it.
"In that case, you can leave. Now. Your time is up."
“Don’t say no to me, Aidan,” Grady says, not budging.
“Listen, fucker,” I tell Grady, snarling my teeth. If this is some jealousy thing because I fucked Alyssa before you and took Abby away from you…”
Grady doesn’t let me finish.
“If it weren’t for you, she would have come crawling back in a less than a week!” he yells. “She didn’t know the first thing about being a publisher when she left. And now she’s becoming unstoppable!”
“So what?” I ask. “You’re here to stop her?”
“If I can’t have her talent, then I’ll at least have yours,” Grady sneers. “Trust me when I tell you that you’ll cooperate if you know what’s good for you.”
I remain silent, wondering if I should just kill this man now.
“I was selling her work to other authors before she left, mirroring it and chopping it up and selling it under different pen names, and it was pretty fucking lucrative,” Grady says. “And since that’s gone now, I’m going to need you to provide me with an alternate source of cheddar. You feel me?”
It's better that he leave now before I do something that I might regret, like put my fist through that smug face of his.
"Listen, this can be an opportunity for you," he says, switching tack. "Come work for me … at Bad Boy Publishing. Just think, with our market reach and your skill, we'll create an empire."
"No thanks," I reply. I mean, this is a no brainer. This is Abby's ex we're talking about. Who just admitted to stealing her work. No wonder she was falling in the author rankings.
There's no way in hell that I could go work for him. I don't care how big his publishing house is.
"Think about it," he continues, pressing his offer.
"I have. And I say no. Final answer."
"Well, that's the wrong answer," he replies.
I can't help but ball my right hand into a fist. This guy is testing my patience.
"Wrong answer?" I ask. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I think I'm a man holding a winning hand."
"So what—maybe you have a few pictures of Abby and I? Who the fuck cares?"
"The world will care because I have more than that," he smiles. "I have pics of that 12-inch cock of yours that will create quite an uproar fucking Abby on the beach, and I won't hesitate to share them publically."