He ran a harsh hand through his hair, knowing Harper would run a mile to get away from him if she ever found out. And she’d take Jeremy, too.
Because the hard truth was that with his father’s blood flowing through his veins, no matter how far he’d come, Will would never completely be able to outrun the things he’d done.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On Wednesday morning, the Mavericks gathered around the boardroom table in the main conference room of their headquarters in Palo Alto, near the Google campus. They’d be moving in the late fall, when Sebastian Montgomery’s new high-rise production studio in San Francisco was completed.
On the face of it, Sebastian was a self-help guru with a charismatic personality; a tall, muscular frame; and celebrity good looks that he’d channeled into a media empire. He spoke to vast audiences on anything from creating money in your life to finding your true destiny.
Sebastian had achieved every goal he’d set the day they’d made their pact to get out of Chicago. But Will wasn’t so sure happiness had been one of those objectives, except in terms of Sebastian being in control of his own destiny after being so out of control as a kid.
For today’s meeting, they presented a united front, all dressed accordingly in suit and tie—even Daniel, who was video conferencing from New York, where he was negotiating the site for another grand opening in his home improvement chain.
They came together as the Maverick Group on various investment opportunities, had even financed movies, their latest being with Smith Sullivan. And of course, there was the Link Labs endeavor. Matt Tremont, the Mavericks’ electronics genius, had brought them the prospect, since his interest lay in robotics. The group was also involved in real estate—selling, buying, renovating, developing—which was why they were all meeting today.
“Ray’s been waiting since ten o’clock.” Will flipped his arm to reveal his watch. “Only ten minutes.” They should have let the man stew for an hour. “Remember, I want to be the one to fire his ass.” Because he’d been the one to hire him. It had seemed like a good choice at the time, but a year ago, Ray Passal’s work ethic had nosedived. In the worst possible way.
“I know you’re pissed. I am, too,” Daniel said, his voice as crystal clear as his image on their state-of-the-art conferencing equipment. For the meeting, he’d tamed his unruly wavy hair and donned a suit jacket over his big shoulders. “But we don’t want to deal with the lawsuit if you beat the crap out of him. Even though he definitely deserves it.”
“Spoilsport,” Sebastian said, lounging in his chair.
“Personally,” Matt said, “I’m willing to pay for a ringside seat.”They all knew Will had been the fighter, even if he hadn’t had a physical knockdown since he was sixteen, and he had to admit his blood was up today, itching to pound Ray into the plush conference-room carpet.
Instead, he asked Evan, “What’s the latest report?”
A couple of days ago, Evan had discovered that the majority of the deals Ray was claiming commission on weren’t Ray’s at all—at least, not for the past year. He was stealing sales from the people who worked for him. More specifically, he was bullying his sales guys into splitting commissions and giving him credit for their work.
“I’ve identified eight deals in the last year. Nothing prior to that.” Evan had meticulously checked every project Ray had been involved in. “Carstairs reported working with Martin on the Castaway Ridge project. Hanson dealt with Barry on Midland.” The list was long, all major multimillion-dollar deals. “And of course, there was Headley on La Verne. He worked with Drucker.”
The La Verne transaction had been Evan’s first discovery when he’d spoken with Headley, who’d offhandedly mentioned he’d never met Ray Passal, despite the fact that Ray’s signature was on the paperwork. He’d dealt exclusively with Drucker and was so impressed with the young sales guy’s abilities that he’d told Evan the man deserved a bonus. When Drucker was questioned, he’d said Passal had made him sign a contract the first day of his employment, splitting all commissions fifty-fifty with Ray because, supposedly, all the leads came from him. It was take it or leave it, sign or lose the job.
That was total bull. None of the Mavericks had ever approved such a contract. And the leads hadn’t come from Ray. He was a bully with a pen and an authority complex.
Which pushed all Will’s buttons.
Will had taken a short, fast ride in his Lamborghini Miura this morning to work out his tension before the confrontation, but his gut was still simmering with anger. He’d wanted to see Harper, drink in her sweet scent, steep himself in her like a balm. But he knew he couldn’t let her see him like that, all keyed up and ready to rumble. He couldn’t let her guess at the Road Warrior still lurking inside.
Yet somehow, just the thought of her eased the churning in him. Enough for him to breathe, to close his eyes a single moment, and feel the touch of her hand on his arm. And help him calm down enough to act rather than react.
“We’ll start with Headley, Drucker, and the La Verne deal,” he said.
Sebastian grinned, but it was a smile that promised retribution. “Since we’ve got a fox in the henhouse, let’s play cock of the walk with him.”
Will hit a button on the intercom, buzzing their executive assistant to usher Ray in. The man who entered was forty-five, but today he looked ten years older, his jowls sagging with the extra pounds he’d put on.