Malcolm
Just as Andrew and I finish our second glass of whiskey, the door to my office flies open. We both turn to look as Ben Danvers walks in.
Instantly, my stomach flips, and a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. It doesn't help that I've been drinking. The whiskey just adds fuel to the fire—stoking it nice and high.
"Perfect," Ben says, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. "You're here."
If I'm honest, I'd like to wipe that smile right off of his fucking face with one closed fist.
I push my chair back from my desk and stand. I'm not going to let him control this situation, or this room.
"What are you doing here?" I growl. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that you aren't welcome. If you don't leave right now, I'm—"
Ben cuts me off. "Easy there, tiger. I'm here to make you an offer."
"No thanks," I say, pointing Ben to the door.
"It'd be a real shame," he says, in a patronizing tone and looking around the office, "To lose all of this—these things you've worked so hard for, and this view."
"I thought we've been over this," I say. "I'm not fucking losing anything."
"I appreciate your bravado, but c'mon, let's be honest," he shrugs. "You're not fooling anyone here. It's just a matter of days before this so-called empire of yours comes tumbling down. And then where will you be? Huh? Well, let me spell it out for you. You'll be on the street; that's where."
I can feel my pulse hammering in my temples. I wonder if my face looks as red as it feels—hotter than any raging fire. I try to steady my breathing.
Ben goes on, "Instead of you becoming the next guy to panhandle on the street corner with an empty coffee cup and a cardboard sign, I'm prepared to make you an offer. I'll give you a penny on every dollar. That way, you can walk out of here on your own two feet, and save yourself the humiliation."
"Go fuck yourself, Ben," I growl. The insult of his offer feels like a straight kick to the balls.
I watch as Ben takes his wallet from his pocket and pulls a $100 dollar bill from its fold. Then he pulls out a lighter and a cigar from his briefcase, and without hesitation, lights the cigar. He shrugs, sucking in a few puffs. "Have it your way."
Once the cigar's tip begins to smolder, he brings the edge of the bill to its tip, holding it until it catches fire. I watch the flame blacken the bill.
He grins wide. "Is this what you really want?" he says, his thick eyebrows dancing on his brow line. "You really want to throw money away like this? Because this is what's happening to your money right now. It's all going up in smoke."
"You're nothing more than a joke," I say, holding his steady gaze. "You're a natural born loser."
Ben laughs. It's shrill and almost maniacal. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who's going to lose the 100 Days contest. You can kiss that pot of money good bye."
As soon as he mentions the contest, it almost feels as if my heart skips a beat. I can practically feel my stomach hit the floor.
My suspicions must've been right. He knew about the contest. He must be working with Athena; that's the only thing that makes sense right now.
I take a step closer to him, and point my finger in his direction. "You can leave. Now."
I lost my patience a long time ago.
Ben continues to grin, and then throws his smoldering cigar and hundred-dollar bill down, crushing them with his shoe, and grinding the black ash into the carpet.
"I see I've hit a nerve," he grins. "And I must say … Athena is quite good in bed. That ass. Those tits."
"You wish," I say, my hands balled into fists and my shoulders now tense.
"There's no wishing," Ben chuckles. "I've fucked her good. And I have the tapes to prove it. Would you like to jerk off to them sometime? The way she moans when I stuff her with my cock… yeah, that part always gets me."
"You fucking bastard!" I growl, closing the distance between us.
Without saying another word, I reach back and punch him square in the face. As soon as my fist connects, I hear a snapping sound, like twigs crunching beneath a boot, and a stream of blood leaks out of his nose.
He stumbles back, wiping a finger under his nose, and when he sees the blood, he springs toward me.
He throws a punch, but I duck out of the way and it grazes my ear. Then I throw my body at him, tackling him to the ground with the force of a linebacker, and we tumble. A throbbing mass of muscle, we knock over a vase from a side table, and the flowers fall to the ground and are crushed by our bodies—like sad confetti after a party.
"Break it up! Enough," Andrew yells, placing his body between ours. He grabs Ben by his shirt collar and drags him off of me.
We're both breathing heavy as I get back on my feet. There's a small cut on my lip, and I use the back of my hand to wipe away a trickle of blood. "You'll be fucking sorry, Ben."
Ben's hair is wild on top of his head, some of it flopping over his eyes. "You're little girlfriend is going to be sorrier when she's a viral porn star."
As soon as these words fall from his lips, I realize that Athena hasn't been working with Ben. I've had it all wrong. Ben has been blackmailing Athena.
I run my fingers through my hair, and straighten my tie. "That's where you're wrong, asshole. I'm not going to let anyone hurt her."