Page List


Font:  

I licked the inside of my mouth, trying to calm my nerves. It was yet another reason I didn’t choose to do business with Jacob and his men. They were vulgar businessmen who had zero concept of professionalism. They were wanna-be gangsters, waving guns and driving ridiculous, souped-up cars, who just so happened to own the one port we really needed access to in order to increase our business.

“It’s my understanding that my father and yours have already come to a tentative agreement on this. There didn’t seem to be any issues with the terms and conditions that were drawn up, so I assume we are just here to cross the Ts and dot the Is?” I smiled tightly at him as he spoke.

“That’s right.” I kept my expression neutral.

He flicked a finger at the man behind him who slid a leather-bound folder on the table. “And since our fathers took care of the hard stuff…” He opened the folder and wiggled the pen between his fingers as he thought, then he scribbled his name on the line above where I was to sign. He pushed the papers over to me then sent the pen on a slide to join it. “Are you always so intense? I hope you’ll loosen up a bit so we can have a little fun here.”

I looked him right in the eye as I took my own pen from my pocket and removed the cap, never breaking my gaze.

“Ten years, forty-sixty split, with benefits when you ship to our port. Strictly oil, nothing else moves through our channels.” I kept my voice even but firm. “Anything that looks out of order is immediately brought to my attention and will be dealt with on my terms.” I raised my glass as a toast. “That, Jacob, is my idea of fun.”

“Excuse me.” A bartender held up a bottle. “This was sent for you, Mr. Capri.”

I glanced at Jacob. He shook his head at me and made a show of looking down at the document he now waited for me to sign. I ignored him and took the bottle from the bartender to read the label.

Syndicate 58/6, not a bad whiskey for sure, although something niggled that the title was meant to mean more.

“Charming,” I snickered, handing it back. “And who, exactly, gifted this little treat?” The bartender simply smiled and lifted a shoulder.


Tags: J.L. Drake Quiet Mafia Romance