Chapter 8
I”m spending the night with Londyn Simmons.
And I need to get my head on straight to finish this meeting as quickly as possible.
I stride into the office at the Duncan Ranch with the night ahead on my mind. This place is growing on me. The ranch has a certain rugged charm that appeals to me—the exposed wooden beams, the crackling fireplace, the warm leather furniture.
It”s a far cry from my sleek, modern penthouse in Houston, but something is grounding about being surrounded by these rustic elements.
As I sink into the plush armchair behind the desk, I allow myself a moment to breathe. To savor the rare stillness before the storm that”s brewing.
My fingers trace the edge of the mahogany desk, polished to a high shine. This rental property, this temporary headquarters for my operation...it”s become a strange sort of sanctuary amidst the chaos.
Here, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and comfort, I can almost convince myself that I”m just an ordinary man. Not a vengeful son hellbent on razing an empire to the ground. Just Jermaine, stripped of the relentless ambition and gnawing emptiness that”s driven me for over a decade.
I lean back, fingers steepled beneath my chin as I wait for Jalisa and Darius to give me the debrief.
After years of strategizing and meticulous preparation, the first tendrils of my web are taking shape around Winston”s carefully constructed world.
One by one, I”ll sever his connections—his business partners, his distribution networks, his supply chains. Applying steady, unrelenting pressure until he”s left a broken, destitute shell of the arrogant bastard who destroyed my family”s dreams.
My chest tightens as a flicker of doubt attempts to take root.
Is this path of vengeance truly justified?
Can I really bring myself to sacrifice everything in the name of petty retribution?
The image of Mama”s tear-streaked face flashes before me, her anguished sobs echoing through that empty brewery. And it”s all the reminder I need.
”Winston”ll regret the day he fucked with my family.”
I sit back and wait as Darius and Jalisa lower into the chairs in front of me, twin expressions of intensity etched across their faces.
”Well?” I level my gaze at them, my tone clipped and all business. ”Let”s hear it.”
Darius clears his throat, fingers flying over his tablet as he pulls up a series of data visualizations. ”The response from the announcement has been overwhelmingly positive so far. Social media is buzzing with excitement over the prize money and our involvement.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw as my eyes narrow at the mention of our involvement. As if Knights Brewery is simply another corporate sponsor rather than the driving force behind this entire endeavor.
But I bite back the urge to correct him. Darius and Jalisa know their roles—capable lieutenants executing my grand vision. For now, I”ll allow them to operate under that assumption.
”Online pre-registration numbers are already through the roof,” Jalisa chimes in, swiping to display a graph spiking sharply upward. ”They”re projecting sell-out crowds for all three days of the festival.”
A tight smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Everything is unfolding according to plan.
I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers as I regard them both with an inscrutable gaze. ”And what about the competition itself? Are our targets taking the bait?”
Darius nods. ”And they”re helping us. This morning, Westbrook Industries” artisanal beer branch dispatched a bulk email. They urged their premier breweries to secure their spots before registration ends, offering to foot the bill for the entry costs.”
The mention of Westbrook Industries pours salt on the old wound. Fury blazes in my chest, white-hot and all-consuming.
Jalisa must sense the shift in my demeanor because she shoots Darius a warning look. Smart girl—she knows the mere mention of them is enough to unhinge me these days.
I endure it if I must. But only outside my personal space.
”And Londyn?” The question escapes before I can swallow it back, my throat tightening around the syllables of her name.
I don”t miss the way Jalisa”s dark eyes flit toward me, sharp and assessing. She”s always been too perceptive for her own good, that one.
Darius clears his throat again, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence. ”Crown Jewel Brew communicated on all of her social media channels about her acceptance into the competition.”
Of course, she did.
My fingers curl into fists atop the desk as I struggle to tamp down the swirling vortex of emotions her name stirs within me.
Rage wars with tenderness, a desire to possess warring with the instinct to protect. To shield her from the devastation I”m about to unleash.
With an inward snarl, I force those errant thoughts aside, shoving down the gnawing sense of unease that”s been festering ever since I set this plan into motion and learned she”s contractually connected with Westbrook.
The reality of it shouldn”t matter to me. Because I”m the master strategist here, the puppet-master orchestrating every move. Not some lovestruck fool.
I fix Darius and Jalisa with a pointed stare, allowing the full weight of my authority to settle over the room like a suffocating blanket.
”Listen closely, because I”m only going to say this once,” I growl, leaning forward to brace my hands on the desk. ”We are at the precipice of achieving everything we”ve worked toward. Over a decade of planning, of strategizing, all leading to this moment.”
I hold their rapt gazes, ensuring my next words drill into their cores with razor-sharp precision.
”I don”t give a damn about the festival itself, or the winners, or the fucking prize money. That”s all just window dressing, understood?”
Darius gives a resolute nod, lips pressed into a grim line.
Jalisa stares back at me, that inquisitive gleam never wavering.
Good. She”s going to need every ounce of that backbone for what”s to come.
”Our real objective,” I continue, voice low and thrumming with quiet menace, ”is to decimate Winston Westbrook”s entire empire. To bring that unethical, underhanded son of a bitch to his knees and make him beg for mercy.”
Unbidden, flashes of memory claw at the edges of my consciousness—Mama”s anguished wails echoing through that empty warehouse, the blank look of defeat in Daddy”s eyes as the life drained from his body on that godforsaken ranch...
We”ve endured the unthinkable. This will be a fucking cakewalk.
My jaw clenches until I can hear my molars grinding together. ”He took everything from us. And I”m going to return that misery a thousandfold.”
The weight of my words hangs heavy in the air, seeming to leech all ambient sound from the room.
Darius”s expression hardens to match mine.
But Jalisa...she merely nods, dark eyes glittering with the same righteous fury I”ve carried like a burning coal for over a decade.
”You know we”re with you, Jermaine.” Her voice is low but unwavering. ”Whatever it takes.”
A tremor races through me—part dread, part grim satisfaction. My siblings have always been my staunchest allies, my tightest circle of trust. Jalisa”s words are a solemn vow, one I know she”ll honor to the bitter end.
Just like J”Mario before her.
I force my shoulders to relax infinitesimally, reining in the wild torrent of emotions roiling within me. Now isn”t the time to lose myself in the morass of the past. Not when so much is poised to change.
”Good,” I murmur, the syllables clipped and decisive. ”Because this is just the opening salvo. The festival is simply a means to an end—our chance to get up close and personal with Westbrook”s entire operation.”
Leaning back, I steeple my fingers and regard them both with a level, assessing stare. ”Once we”re inside, our real work begins. Identifying every weakness, every flaw, every seam ready to split wide open and expose that diseased core.”
Darius nods. He”s been in the trenches with me from the beginning, witnessed firsthand the sheer scope of Westbrook”s ruthlessness and greed.
But Jalisa...she still has her doubts, that much is clear from the slight downturn of her full lips and the worry line creasing her brow.
Can”t say I blame her. What I”m asking—no, _demanding_—goes against everything our family stood for back when we were just a humble, blue-collar clan of brewers. Before Winston Westbrook”s machinations shattered that idyllic existence and set me on this all-consuming path.
”And Londyn?” Jalisa ventures at last, giving voice to the question I”ve been steadfastly avoiding. ”Where does she factor into all of this?”
The tremor that races through me is more pronounced this time, a physical shudder I can”t quite suppress.
Because the truth is...I”m not entirely certain yet.
Londyn Simmons has always been the chink in my armor, the one variable I can”t seem to control or even predict with any accuracy. She awakens something primal within me, a molten need to simultaneously possess and shelter her from the maelstrom I”m about to unleash.
It would be so easy to let her slip through the cracks, to protect her and her dreams at all costs. A small indulgence to preserve the one bright spot left in my world.
But that path is a slippery slope, one that could lead to my downfall just as surely as Westbrook”s own hubris and unchecked ambition.
No, Londyn is a factor I need to weave into my plans...or sever completely after tonight.
The thought sits like a lead weight in my gut, but I don”t let it show.
My fingers drum against the desk in a calming rhythm as I consider how to proceed.
Part of me understands their reservations. Londyn Simmons is an unknown variable, an X factor in my finely-tuned operation that could derail everything.
I picture her face—those warm brown eyes, full lips curved in a radiant smile. The scent of tropical fruit and malted barley clinging to her sun-kissed skin.
My chest tightens as heat stirs low in my belly. I tamp down the visceral reaction, refocusing on the matter at hand.
Darius leans forward, brow furrowed. ”Look, man, I get the...personal connection there.” His tone is measured, pragmatic as ever. ”But this thing with Londyn? It”s a huge risk we can”t afford right now.”
He runs a hand over his cropped hair. ”She”s tied up with Westbrook Industries, whether she knows it or not. That whole distribution deal she has? It puts her square in the line of fire if—no, _when_—this whole op goes nuclear.”
Jalisa shifts in her seat, dark eyes narrowed. ”Don”t forget, she”s the one who broke your heart in college.”
The words are like a sucker punch to the gut. I inhale sharply through my nose, steeling myself against the raw ache that flares in my chest.
Jalisa presses on, tone laced with protectiveness. ”I just don”t want to see you get burned again, Jermaine. She already proved she can”t be trusted.”
Rage simmers beneath my skin, scalding and all-consuming. I ball my hands into fists atop the desk, nails biting into my palms.
Breathe.
The old wound is still fresh, that much is undeniable. Even now, the memory of Londyn”s betrayal leaves me gutted, scorched from the inside out. I”m not blind to the irony—it”s the same tactic Winston employed to deceive my dad.
I open my mouth, ready to unleash the full force of my fury on them both?—
But something stops me.
Jalisa”s dark eyes shine with genuine concern, her lips pursed in a tight line. Darius regards me steadily, radiating that unflappable calm that”s pulled me back from the brink more times than I can count.
These are my people. My tightest circle, my loyal foot soldiers who”ve had my back through every hardship and triumph. They”re looking out for me, plain and simple.
With visible effort, I unclench my fists. Take a deep, grounding breath.
When I finally speak, my voice is a low rumble that silences any further protest. ”Londyn is an asset to be leveraged, nothing more.”
Darius opens his mouth, a crease forming between his brows. But I hold up a hand, quelling his objection.
”Her brewery is legit. Authentic, down to the fucking roots. Exactly the kind of thing this festival is meant to showcase.”
Jalisa scoffs softly. ”You really think the judges will be objective with her being involved with you?”
”Make no mistake—Londyn Simmons is a means to an end in this operation. One more avenue to infiltrate Westbrook”s inner circle and identify his weaknesses.”
Jalisa holds my gaze. ”And if she”s a threat?”