Tristan #3
If we win, everything from Eclipse Studios will be under Thorne control.
The joint venture would’ve been nice, but if Vincent isn’t willing to share space at the table, isn’t willing to consider his partners allies, then I want to make sure we get our money’s worth. It’s my job to protect the company.
I can’t keep the smirk off my face.
“Listen,” I start, “it’s just business.”
“Business?” he snarls. “You’re playing with fire, boy. You’ll never win. And when you lose, you’ll be facing a counter-suit so fast it’ll give you whiplash. I’m Vincent fucking Dawson. If you think you can take me down—”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Dawson,” I say, raising my voice slightly, “I’d like to get back to dinner with my wife.”
At the mention of Chloe, a truly ugly look spreads across Vincent’s face. His lip curls in disdain, and his eyes narrow even more.
“Oh, your wife. I wouldn’t fucking bother, if I were you.”
My jaw tightens. I know I should leave it, but I can’t help myself. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Vincent growls. “If you think you’re getting any insider information out of Chloe, you’re sorely mistaken. She doesn’t work at MediaSphere anymore.”
My eyes widen at that, but Vincent is mid-rant, and he doesn’t give me time to take in this revelation.
“I should’ve seen it coming. She always had her head in the clouds. Never fully dedicated herself to her work, or to the company. She was a disappointment waiting to happen.”
The moment Vincent starts belittling Chloe, something inside me snaps. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I listen to him dismiss her, tear her down as if she’s nothing more than a failed project. My chest tightens, filled with an anger I can’t hold back any longer.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve closed the distance between us.
My hand shoots out, grabbing the front of his shirt, and I shove him against the wall.
The sound of his back hitting the wood paneling echoes in the narrow hallway.
For a split second, there’s nothing but stunned silence between us.
Vincent’s eyes widen in shock, but I don’t let up. I press him harder against the wall, leaning in close so he can see the fury in my eyes.
“Be very careful what you say about my wife,” I growl. “You have no idea how incredible she is. No idea what she’s capable of.”
His surprise quickly turns to anger, but he’s trapped, pinned by the force of my grip. “You think you can intimidate me, Thorne?” he spits, but there’s an edge of uncertainty in his voice now.
Whether he wants to admit it or not, he is intimidated. And we both know it.
“Chloe is not a disappointment,” I tell him roughly. “She’s the most insightful, intelligent, and talented person I’ve ever known. And the fact that you can’t see that only proves how blind you are.”
Vincent glares at me, his jaw clenched, but he doesn’t say anything. The anger builds beneath the surface, but I don’t care. I’m done letting him run his mouth.
“She has dreams, Vincent. Dreams that you’ve tried to crush under the weight of your expectations. But guess what? She’s stronger than you think. She’s stronger than you’ll ever be. And if you can’t see that, then you don’t deserve to be in her life.”
“She is my daughter,” Vincent spits. His eyes bore into mine, as if trying to assert some kind of dominance, but all I see is a man clinging to the last threads of his control.
His back is literally to the wall, his tail between his legs. Within months, his empire will have crumbled to dust at my feet. No matter how hard he tries to get the upper hand, he’s finished.
“Yes, she is your daughter. That means you should’ve supported her. Encouraged her. You didn’t, and guess what? That’s your fucking loss.”
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, the wheels turn in his mind, searching for something, anything, to fire back with. But I don’t give him the chance.
“If I ever hear you say something negative about my wife again, or if I ever hear that you’ve hurt her somehow, a lawsuit will be the least of your worries.” Anger simmers in my veins, burning through my limbs. “I will end you.”
I release the front of Vincent’s suit, letting the fabric slip from my grasp as I take a step back. He seems stunned and angry. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to snap like that, to push back so forcefully.
Vincent’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something, but the words don’t come. He just glares at me, his face flushed with rage, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes. Maybe he’s finally realizing that this isn’t a fight he’s going to win.
“Do us both a favor,” I grit out. “Get the fuck away from me, and stay there.”
Vincent’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. He just stands there, fuming silently, his fists clenched at his sides. I hold his gaze for a moment longer before he finally turns and stalks away without another word.
I take a step to return to the table, but then I see her.
Chloe is standing there, just a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and something else I can’t quite place.
Shit. She must have heard everything.