Page 23 of On One Condition

Backpedal.

Fix your fuckup.

Evade.

“My intent wasn’t to insult—”

“Of course, it wasn’t.” His smile matches his tone—sarcastic. “But since you find our town . . . lacking in all areas, then we, the town of Cedar Falls, have decided to put it on Sharpe International to make some improvements in the town being as our success will be your success and all.”

“Improvements?” What the actual fuck? “Meaning?”

“Meaning we feel it’s important that a venture as big as yours should have more of an investment in the overall well-being of our community. Should help make our citizens profit while you do.”

Is he extorting us?

“There is nothing in our agreement with the city that states an investment is required in the town over and above the resort itself.”

“Well”—he glances at the other council members on either side of him before looking back at me—“you know us Podunk folk, we don’t exactly abide by rules. It’d be a shame to do all this construction and spend all this money, especially now that you’re in the home stretch of it, and not be able to get your certificate of occupancy. What is it they say? Another day, another dime wasted?”

I emit a nervous, disbelieving chuckle as I scratch my temple.

Think. Fucking think, Ledger.

But there is nothing to think about. They’ve got me over a barrel and they know it. We have tens of millions already invested in this property and its renovations. We can’t exactly abandon it, and no one’s going to buy a half-constructed resort if we were to bow out.

“And what exactly do you expect from us?” It’s all I can think to ask. I’m normally not thrown by curveballs. I am this time.

Without having lawyers at my back to consult like I normally would, I’m still ninety-nine percent sure Grossman has zero authority to do this. He’s a dick. Plain and simple. What he doesn’t know is I’ve dealt with much worse dickish behavior in New York City. I know how to play this game. How I need to appear that I’m at this Podunk town’s mercy regardless of the legalities of it.

Kill them with kindness.

Jesus. It just might kill me in the process.

“You’re a successful businessman, Ledger Sharpe.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure you can think of something to appease us.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ledger

“Hold the fuck on. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack,” I say to Ford as I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. “The fucker is going to extort us. From what I gather, he’s up for reelection soon, and it looks as if he’s going to run on the I-made-big-business-my-bitch platform.”

“Hence the letter with the required two months and now this bullshit request.”

“Exactly. The problem is the ultimatum he gave us is subjective in nature. There is no do this and get this, like there was with his first command. What he’s asking now is just . . .”

“He’s beating his chest.”

“Along with other things to get off,” I mutter.

“Can we just pause for a moment in your misery so I can revel in the glory that always-perfect Ledger fucked up?” He emits an exaggerated laugh. “You didn’t think to be cautious talking on the phone to me when you were standing in front of a locals-only bar?”

No. I didn’t. All I could think about was Asher and how by the time I’d run out to the parking lot to chase after her, she was gone.

“You called me at a bad time.” It’s the only excuse I can give without having to explain more.

“Then you shouldn’t have picked up. Easy enough.”