One Weekend with the Billionaire Chapter 11

*Braxton*

Springer followed Jeff and Julia Thompson home last night to report on how he was treating his wife. I had him hang around outside of their apartment. He could hear Jeff screaming at her for quite some time in his drunken slur, and he thought he heard him strike her as well. When I sent him back this morning to collect Jeff, it was mostly because I wanted to see if there was evidence of that strike. In the car on the way to work, Springer calls me and tells me he has seen a red mark across Julia’s cheek.

I am furious.

Waiting in my office, I tell Cindy not to let anyone in to see me. I wanted to speak to Thompson first thing in the morning, but even though I have sent a car to bring him to work so that he doesn’t have to fool with public transportation, he is running behind.

Pacing back and forth in front of my desk, I try to get a hold of myself. I have practiced what I intend to say to him several times, but I am still worried about how it may come out. Thompson is an asshole, and there is a good chance he will say or do something while he is in my office that makes me want to punch him in the throat, something I cannot do if I want to have the upper hand in our negotiations, which I must have.

A buzzer sounds from my desk, and I know it is Cindy. She wouldn’t be bothering me if it wasn’t important, so I step over and press a button. “Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir, but Maximillian French has the information you asked for him to find.”

“Already?” I ask. That was quick. I only gave the assignment to Max about fifteen minutes ago. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if Thompson were on time.

“Yes, sir.”

“Send him in, please, Cindy,” I say, having a feeling that the information he is going to present to me will to make me even angrier.

Max is about ten years older than me and works in the IT department. He is as trustworthy and reliable a man as I’ve ever known. He comes in with a file in his hands, as I expect.

I spoke to him on the phone earlier, but this is the first time I’ve seen him today. “Good morning, Max,” I say, extending my hand.

“Good morning, sir,” he replies. Holding up the file, he says, “A quick search gave me more than enough proof that Thompson is doing exactly what you suspected. I’ve got five pages of reports from just the last two weeks that show the majority of the time he is on the clock here at Merriweather and Associates he’s cruising porn sites and looking for escorts, not working.”

I take the file and open it, glancing through a brief summary of what Thompson has been up to using company WiFi and even his desktop computer. “Son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath. There is more than enough information here to fire the bastard.

That’s not what I intend to do, though. Not now anyway.

I set the file on my desk. “Thank you, Max,” I say, giving him a small smile.

“Certainly. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Just keep everything online the way you always do, and we’re all set.” I pat him on the shoulder. He really is an asset to the company.

Max leaves, and I look at the file for a few moments before shaking my head and pulling my eyes away. I want to throw it at Thompson when he enters the room, but I may not even disclose that I know what he’s been up to. It all depends on what he has to say to me.

I go back to pacing, and shortly before 10:00, Cindy buzzes again to let me know Jeff Thompson is there to see me.

“It’s about goddamn time,” I say. “Send him in.”