CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

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Monday, June 26, 2016

Trey's House

20 weeks...


A knock came at his door mere seconds after he'd entered the office, and knowing it was Gale, he invited him in. Gale stepped in once he was sure the mood was clear. "You have a meeting with the board in..." he checked his watch, "two minutes. Everything is ready."

With another long-suffering sigh, he rose out of his seat without a word and went out of the office, heading to the conference room on his floor. "What is it about?" he finally asked in a low voice when they were close.

"The new project—the one Donovan has a part of with him," Gale answered, matching Trey's speed as they hurried to the conference room. "They don't think you should do it by the way and are threatening to pull out their stakes in the business."

"Thanks for the heads up," Trey muttered, his expression darkening.

Gale pushed the door open for Trey to go through first, entering after him, then closed the door. "Sorry I'm late," Trey murmured, walking to his seat at the head of the table.

Wheeler, his father's friend, snorted. "You look anything but sorry. I'm starting to think you enjoy wasting our time."

Trey unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat. "And you are anything but respectful of my authority," he said. "You disregarded my order to have this seat left out for my assistant. Vacate the seat for my assistant."

Mr. Wheeler, red in the face, rose out of the seat to occupy one much farther back, glaring at Trey who smiled without remorse. Then Trey sat up with a clap, asking, "Why are we here?"

"Isn't your assistant supposed to do that job?" another old man—Mr. Biggs, asked. The scorn on his face had Trey's brow lifting in amusement.

"What is this? A revolt?" he asked, chuckling darkly. "None of you scare me. So, I suggest you get to the point."

They all sat, quietly brooding, till one decided to speak up. "We want you to know what we think about your idea of a new project."

"Tell me, please," he said, leaning forward with feigned interest. 

The one who had spoken up, Ms. Rivera, cleared her throat and went. "It is a bit strange for the company to suddenly move from making powerful and useful technology into..." she huffed in irritation, unable to find the right word to classify it.

"It's called branching out," he said with a smile which had her fuming.

"I know what it is called," she snapped, glaring at him. "But it's not as profitable compared to what we're doing now."

"We have resorts and a few hotels," he muttered, feigning confusion. "How different are those from this? Besides, it's not like I'm dropping tech. I'm doing this project alongside it—just like the others."

"You don't have our support," she bit out.

"You don't like the idea of couples and families having the perfect, chemical free space to spend vacations?"

"No," she replied immediately. 

He smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Too bad, because I'm doing it whether you like it or not. I'm not seeking your permission."

He watched, bemused, as they all lost their cool, only shutting up when Wheeler asked them to. Wow. "You have two options Mr. Robinson—either you drop the project, or we will withdraw our stakes in the business."

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