Chapter Thirty-Nine
MADDOX
Ishouldn’t be working today, but I left something at the office I needed to deal with. On my way down, I checked in on Rory to see if she was okay after dealing with a coked up Alistair, but she wasn’t in. I wondered where she went, but after texting Rogan, I put it into the back of my mind, unwilling to let her control my every thought, especially when I had work to do.
It’s bad enough I dream of her and can no longer sleep without waking up with her name on my lips like a fucking idiot. Or that whenever she’s near, I can’t concentrate. Fucking woman is a witch, I’m sure of it.
The offices are empty except for me today, and I plan on finishing up as soon as I can, then heading home. I’m just grabbing the information I need when the elevator dings and Charles Fletcher strolls out. A snarl tips up my lips. I don’t know how he got past security, but whoever is on shift is fired. The wrinkled bastard looks around with a derisive smirk, staring down his long nose at everything as he turns to my office and spots me. His gray hair is cut short and styled, and his gray mustache and beard are neatly trimmed. He’s in a tailored designer pinstripe suit, unlike my leathers, and behind him are his bodyguards. Four of them. All tatted up meatheads.
He’s old money, really old money, and likes to make people aware of that. A diamond earring winks in his left lobe, and his golden rings sparkle under the light as he lets himself into my office with a knowing grin. We hate each other, always have, always will. A bitter rivalry exists between my family and his—a constant battle for power. He was once the richest man in the city, and he owned it all until my father came along. When my father died and we took over, we grew this business to heights he could only imagine. One of the first things we did was buy one of his subsidiary companies and burn it to the ground.
A warning, a message.
In his sharp blue eyes, I see one reflected back at me now. If he’s here, it’s for a reason, and I have a feeling I won’t like it. Usually, Alistair or Rogan deals with him. I have an itchy trigger finger, after all, and the inclination to kill the smug bastard is difficult to resist.
“Hello, Maddox,” he greets, looking around my office as he wanders about, ignoring my glare.
“How did you get up here?” I demand.
“Your staff is less than vigilant.” He chuckles as he winks back at me. “Trouble in paradise, I see.”
“What do you want?” I restrain my anger, clenching my fists under the desk as he moves toward me and perches carefully on the chair opposite my desk. His men spread out behind him. They’re big bastards, all muscle, mercs. I could take them though, but I don’t. Killing him would bring too much attention to us. No, his wealth and connections buy him safety, and as much as I hate it, we have to play the game.
Us Dixens may not be completely legal in our dealings, but this man is scum. He profits off suffering—evicting people, shutting down charities, and basically being a rat bastard. He takes from the poor and hands the assets to the rich, keeping their pockets lined and the people happy so they protect him. I even heard he smuggles guns into the city for both sides of the gang wars.
“Straight to the point, I always liked that about you.” He grins, and when I don’t reply, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, a business proposition. I want to buy your businesses. All of them.”
“Get the fuck out,” I snarl without even listening. His eyes narrow, but he carries on.
“I have a generous offer—”
“And I don’t give a fuck,” I snap, losing my patience. His bodyguards step closer as I stand and point. “Out before I throw you out. You will not own us, ever. You may be old money and you’re stuck in your ways, but we’re here now and we’re here to stay. Get the fuck over it, or you’ll end up like everyone else who stands against us—six feet under.”
Realizing he’s lost, he gets to his feet, tugging his suit into place and giving me a dismissive, knowing look. “Before long, you will need my help. Your empire will fall, and I will own it all.”
He sweeps into the hallway, leaving me shaking in anger as I turn and punch the wall. I hate that bastard. It’s been his life’s mission to destroy us, even before we owned this company. He’s stepped it up recently though by killing one of our employees. Hell, he even tried to firebomb our warehouses.
One day, I need to deal with him, I just need to find a way to get away with it.
Charles Fletcher III will die before our empire falls. I will ensure that.
Dixens don’t die.
Dixens never give up.
This is our city, and it’s time he realized that.