Page 43 of Unbalanced

“I couldn’t care less who Camille fucks. Now sign it, or I’ll have you arrested. I’m sure you can get your dick sucked in prison as long as you don’t mind your ass being used.”

He swallows loud enough for me to hear, then swipes the pen from my hand.

“You’re such a fucking prick,” he grumbles, scribbling his name and initials on the tabs.

The imbecile doesn’t even bother to read it through. He never learns, but he will soon. If this venture does well and takes off, he’s just signed over fifteen percent of the company. The world needs all kinds, and fools are one of them.

As soon as he is done, I press the call button on my phone. Rochelle opens the door a second later.

I hold out the paperwork.

“Can you make a copy for Malcolm to take with him?”

Rochelle smirks. She knows exactly what Malcolm has done. Rochelle is more ruthless than I am. I was only going to take ten percent of the company. She’s the one who talked me into more.

Malcom openly stares at her as she sashays through my office in her pink dress. None of the other secretaries would dare to wear something so bold. Unfortunately for Malcolm, he would receive a warmer reception from a shark.

Now that he’s signed the contract, I return to the bar to pour Malcolm a drink.

He takes it with a heavy sigh, eyeing me as if I’ll poison him.

“Who do you think killed Rob?”

Crossing my arms, I narrow my eyes at my cousin.

“What makes you think he was killed?”

Malcolm shrugs.

“I don’t see Rob out there paying his respects to your father in the middle of the night and randomly slipping. Do you?”

“I suppose not, but just because he might have been meeting someone out there doesn’t mean it was murder.”

Malcolm nods. “True enough. I wouldn’t be cheating on that girlfriend of his if she were mine.” He chuckles. “She is hot…wait…Rob’s dead, I wonder…”

The anger burns hot in my chest as I consider throwing Malcolm off the roof and calling it suicide.

“Don’t bother, she’s not interested,” I say, and he glares at me.

“Says who?”

“Says me when I tell her exactly the kind of man you are.”

“You’d cockblock me on top of everything else…you’re a cold SOB, Alden.”

Shaking my head, I lean against my desk.

“I assume you will make the funeral?”

Malcolm polishes off his drink as Rochelle returns and hands him his copy of the paperwork in a black folder.

“Of course I’ll be there.” He swipes the folder and marches for the door, but then stops to look back at me. “Fucking lawyers.”

Rochelle stands beside me, arms crossed as we watch him leave.

“How long do you think it will take for him to notice that you’ve scammed him out of partial ownership?”

I shrug.