House Rules by Rebecca Brooke Page B

things was respect: how to get it, when to utilize it, and probably most importantly, how to keep it. If I was to take over my father’s role, clients needed to know that I was no pushover. And that started here and now. With Mr. Karlstad.
    “I wouldn’t be risking anything. My father has only ever hired the best to keep our books. You know as well as I do that your information could hit the streets tomorrow and no one, not even the best forensic accountant would be able to trace it back to me. Times are changing, Mr. Karlstad, and please be assured that your lack of respect for this change has been noted. And right now, you’re lucky I haven’t yanked you out of that chair and beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”
    He stood up so fast you might have thought his ass was on fire. He stood there fidgeting, his eyes glancing back at the door, like he was waiting for his chance to bolt from the room. “I can see I made a mistake in coming here.”
    With his hands raised, he backed slowly toward the door.
    “Sit the fuck down. I’m not done with your sorry ass.”
    His eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. He’d eventually understand there wasn’t one. Little bastard would soon realize that the only way he was leaving the office was when I let him.
    I scooted forward on the chair, my elbows on the top of the desk, my eyes boring into his beady ones. “Right now, you’re really fucking lucky I don’t plan on telling my father about our little tête-à-tête.” Mr. Karlstad swallowed hard at the blatant threat. “He’d already have Brock or Dean escorting you outside for a little chat for even thinking that. But what you will quickly learn is that my father may be a scary bastard, but he’s got nothing on me. I’m the motherfucker who won’t bother wasting his time waiting for someone else to beat your ass. I’ll take care of you myself and you’ll never be the same.”
    Karlstad swallowed hard, eyes trained on me, braced for me to attack. “I . . . I didn’t mean—”
    “You didn’t mean to what? Come in here spouting bullshit that’s only going to get you in trouble? What you’re going to do is get up and get out of my office. And if I hear any more of this shit, I can guarantee I will make good on my promise.”
    Proving just how much of an asshole he really was, Karlstad jumped up and ran from the room, the door swinging behind him.
    I slammed my fist down onto the desk. How many more of my father’s clients would think they could pull this shit?
    I could let Dad deal with it, but then they would only respect me because he forced them to. If I wanted to take full control, I’d have to prove that I would accept nothing less than full respect from anyone I chose to do business with. Anyone who tried to harm what we’d built would be dealt with in my own fashion.
    Blood still pounded through my ears. What I really needed was to get the fuck out of there and over to the bar. Besides a naked woman beneath me, a night of liquor and half naked women dancing was just what I needed.
     

CHAPTER 8
    Miller
     
    Dad: Here. 30 min.
     
    I didn’t bother responding. When Dad sent out messages like that, everyone knew you didn’t ask questions. You did what you were told, when you were told to do it. The consequences of not showing up far outweighed the benefits of staying home and relaxing. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I grabbed my keys off the dresser and left for my parents’.
    Pain reverberated around my head. Shot after shot had gone down easily the night before, once I was sure everything in the back room was running smoothly. I wanted to erase another shitty day. It seemed that every day since Tess had snuck out of my bed ended in a mass of chaos. Warning bells went off in my head and I ended up drinking the night away.
    I thought about calling her, getting her in my bed one more time, fuck her from my system.
    Shit.
    I never got her number. What was it about Tess that had me