We arrived ten minutes before the meeting was about to begin. I was going to suggest we take a walk and grab coffee, but my cousin was restless. She was tapping her fingers against her legs and bouncing her heel against the car’s floorboard.
"Let’s go," I said. I usually liked to arrive later—fashionably late, as it made the adversary uneasy, giving me the upper hand. All I typically needed were a few extra minutes, enough to prove I wasn't bending to their rules. But now I had to think about Reese, and what she needed was to get this crap over with.
We headed straight inside, then into the meeting room. It was a rented pop-up office off LaSalle, on the ground floor between two other businesses. One seemed to be a travel agency, the other one a clothing store. In the past couple years, I'd had a few mediation meetings in places like this. They were neutral ground.
Malcolm and Ashburn stood up when they saw us.
"What are you doing here?" Malcolm asked Reese.
“Joining my cousin,” Reese replied easily.
Ashburn looked straight at me. I cocked a brow. I’d swept the floor with him multiple times in the courtroom. He should be cautious.
"We cited you only," Ashburn said, looking straight at me.
“But since this isn't a court meeting, I can bring whoever the hell I want. Now let’s start this freak show.”
Ashburn and Malcolm exchanged a glance. I had the upper hand.
Reese coming along was a masterstroke. I would never have asked her to come, but the truth was it was great that she was here. It obviously caught them off guard and gave us an advantage.
We sat down at the table. Malcolm seemed too stunned to speak.
Ashburn was looking through the stack of papers in front of him.
"Are we going to start this anytime soon?” I questioned. “Reese and I don't have all day."
"You’re not supposed to be here," Malcolm snapped at Reese. She was sitting with her back ramrod straight. She was smiling at him, but it wasn’t a friendly one. It was her attack smile. She was fighting to win.
Ashburn cleared his throat. "We all know why we’re here."
"No, we don't," I said. "Please explain."
"We sent you papers. You know exactly why you're here," Ashburn replied, clearly annoyed with me.
I leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table, joining my hands, and looking at them with my most relaxed expression. That was one of my favorite tactics. When you wanted to put your opponent on edge, you had to look as if you didn’t give a fuck.
"Yes, but we all know you have no defamation case. So why don't you tell us what you really want? It's why you scheduled a private meeting instead of actually taking me to court.”
"My client sustained significant losses because of your interference with the Halsey Group."
"And I give a fuck why?" I asked. Yes, I was baiting them, but I also knew where I was going with this.
"I need you to retract everything you said to them. I need that job back," Malcolm said, looking at me. Then he looked at Reese. “You put him up to this. I never thought you were so cold.”
“Reese didn't know anything about it,” I replied. “None of my family did. It was all me.”
“ButifI had known, Malcolm, I would have supported him 100 percent,” Reese added.
“Listen to me,” Malcolm went on. Both Reese and I had our “I don’t give a shit” faces on. “My girlfriend is pregnant, and I'm out of a job. I need that job.”
I was so glad Reese got rid of this asshole before they married. She’d realize how lucky she was one day.
"That’s not our problem," I said.
“I'm about to make it your problem. Do you know how many reporters have been banging down my door? Ever since we canceled the wedding, they’re dying to know the whole story. And for the right price… I’ll tell them. And I’ll make it good—regular rag-fodder.”
I felt Reese stiffen next to me, and I cursed inwardly. She’d told me repeatedly how many times she’d had to turn down reporters.
