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“Right you are,” I replied, taking a seat across from his desk. Even though there was at least five feet of barrier between us, he shifted back in his seat, putting even more space there.
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
His pale blue eyes flittered across the room, never settling on one particular thing. “About what? My father already warned me this would happen… that you would come for me.”
Well, now my interest was piqued. “Did he now? What else did he tell you?”
“H-he said you’d try to intimidate me or threaten me into increasing the bid, but you’d be wasting your time if you did.”
“Oh?”
His eyes darted around, looking behind me and probably waiting for security to arrive. “Yes. I have no authority to increase the bid. My father is the only one with full controlling power of the company.”
I made a show of looking around his office. It was spacious. Lots of soft furnishings. Books on the bookshelf to my left. A huge plate-glass window looking out over the city on my right. Large, powerful desk in front of me. “So, what’s all this for?” I gestured to the office. “Show?”
Cian grimaced. “It was my mother’s dying wish that I take over the family business. It was a wish my father didn’t echo, but he could never deny his wife what she wanted. This was his compromise… the illusion of responsibility.” His tone had turned bitter, and I caught a peek behind the professional curtain.
I looked at his left hand as he folded it onto the blotter in front of him, noticing the ring. “How long have you been married?”
He looked down at the gold band, rubbing his thumb along it. “Almost two years.”
“And does she or your da know that you’re fucking Ahmed Hassan?”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Does your da know that you’re literally getting fucked up the ass by his biggest rival?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, it dawned on me. “Wait, does your father hate himbecausehe’s fucking you up the ass?”
Cian hung his head. “He doesn’t know we’re in a relationship.”
“How long has it been?”
“Three years.”
“And where does this rivalry come from?”
“Ahmed attempted to take over another one of my father’s companies a few years ago. That’s how me and Ahmed met. Ahmed backed out of that deal on account of me, but after my father told him in no uncertain terms what he thought of Egyptian immigrants, Ahmed made it his mission to undercut or outbid him at every turn.”
It’s almost too easy. I felt the smile curl up the corners of my mouth. “Has anyone else figured it out?”
His eyes met mine. “No.”
“Not even your wife?”
“No.”
Stretching my legs out under the table, I rested my hands on my stomach and leveled him with a stare. “How much would you be willing to pay to keep this secret quiet?”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. I already told you my father has complete control over business decisions.”
“And if I told you the figure Hassan bid? Would that light a fire under your da’s arse?”
For the first time, Cian shifted in his seat. “How much did he go over?”
“Probably more than your da would be willing to spend.”
“You’re going to blackmail him into upping his bid?”
