Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
But only made the fire inside of me burn brighter.
Tomorrow I was driving to his grave.
And then I was going to destroy it.
CHAPTER 4
On the bright side, I’m not addicted to cocaine.
-Text from Crimson to Winston
WINSTON
“Win,” someone called my name. “Are you listening to me at all, or should we just leave?”
I looked up from my unseeing stare and leveled my gaze on a possible business associate.
Possible being the operative word, because I didn’t like the tone he was taking with me, and I despised when people thought they were more entitled to my time than I was.
I’d had a long fucking night, paired with an even longer morning, and I wasn’t going to deal with his bullshit.
“I’m sorry, would you like to repeat that?” I asked in a silky-smooth voice. One that didn’t relay the anger that was now filling me in rolling waves.
Basten—short for Sebastian, even though it was spelled wrong which also fuckin’ annoyed me—looked taken aback.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, looking nervous now.
I looked at Basten’s father, who was studying the ceiling.
He obviously knew that his son needed to learn some patience just like I did.
He looked very apologetic as he said, “I’m sure my son didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
Oh, we both knew that he did, but we were giving him a chance to take back his words.
I didn’t need to work with the fucker.
I was the tenth richest man in the world. Though, I always liked spending other peoples’ money, and not my own. Which was why I was meeting with Basten and Cory Barnes.
My side business was one that needed a shit ton of cash flow to keep it afloat, and though I’d use my own if I ran out of someone else’s, using my own wasn’t conducive with me staying rich.
And staying rich was what kept me in the rich people’s pockets. And rich people’s pockets were what funded my special projects.
“I most certainly did. We’ve been sitting here for an hour!”
I gritted my teeth and almost lost my shit but shut it down before it could get past the seam of my lips.
Instead of ripping the little fuck’s head off, even though I really wanted to, I forced myself to calm down.
Sitting back, I stretched my legs out in front of me and linked my hands behind my head.
Staring at him until he looked away, I said, “Would you like to see why I was late?”
Basten’s eyes shifted from me to his father and back, almost as if he was afraid to say yes.
“Um, if you feel like showing me,” Basten grumbled darkly.
I leaned forward and twisted the monitor I’d been studying before they’d arrived in my office.
On it was a young girl.
Six years old.
She was a talented little girl. Her mother said she was fluent in four languages. Was the Little Miss USA runner up. She could also play the violin like it was made for her.
I’d watched and rewatched the last concert she’d had a solo in just last Christmas.
Now, a year later, her life was irrevocably changed.
“What am I looking at?” Basten asked, looking grossed out.
“That,” I said softly, voice breaking slightly. “That is the remains of Tasia Tennison. She was taken away from her mother at a mall in Georgia. She was found on a tanker in the middle of the Pacific Ocean where she was stored in a storage container. She perished on the way to be sex trafficked with eleven other little girls.”
Cory Barnes visibly flinched.
Basten looked…haunted.
“What can I do?” he asked. “I assume that’s why you finally agreed to the meeting.”
I held up two fingers. “Two birds, one stone.”
His brows rose.
“I need your connections. You host one of the most prestigious fundraisers in the south. I want to be your charity for this year.”
He looked at the monitor again, lost even more color, then nodded. “Done. What was the other reason?”
I twisted the monitor back around before turning it to sleep mode.
I’d deal with that sweet girl later.
For now…
“The second is that I want to buy security systems for eleven thousand households,” he said.
He blinked.
“Eleven thousand?” Basten asked, surprised.
“Yes,” I nodded once. “For each of the families that were affected by sex trafficking in the area in the last three years.”
Cory looked stunned.
“A lot of them are low-income households. People who couldn’t afford to fight back.” I looked at the ceiling. “It’s going to be a donation from my company to these moms and dads who were affected. Hopefully, it’ll help give them peace of mind.”
Cory stood up and held out his hand. “I’ll discount and match you fifty percent.”
I stood up as well.
There were a few good rich people in this world. Cory Barnes did not disappoint.
Basten still looked sick to his stomach.
Good.
Hopefully today taught him a bit of patience.
And also gave him a bit of insight into how fuckin’ special his world really was.