At No Time || Bruno Mars

47

"There's three other men that will be there with him, right?"

Peter fixated his earpiece as he prepared himself for the meeting with Bennett-Price at the Sovereignty building. Trystan was on the other line, reiterating details so she would be able to walk into the room aware of most of what would be thrown at her and her team. Peter straightened his tie as he answered her, "Yeah, but they're more like puppets if you ask me. Following Robert's every direction and shit; like they don't have a mind of their own."

"That's impressive . . . and scary."

Peter chuckled, "I thought the same thing. The party was for his son Matthew, and he came up to me and told me what his dad was doing was 'clever'."

"Clever?" Peter could just imagine her nose scrunching up in distaste. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, but now I feel we have to be even more vigilant. He didn't take it too well when I asked about Worcestershire. He claimed it was all hearsay and that he had nothing to do with its demise."

Trystan exhaled through her nose. "That's what they all say." She was quiet for a moment before asking if Peter was on his way.

"Yeah, I'm about to leave my hotel now," he informed and grabbed his car keys and phone. The device lit up with a text message from Seymour, asking about one of the documents Peter had left for him to look over in his absence. He rolled his eyes at the co-worker and made a mental note to get back to him later.

"Okay, good." Trystan sighed. "I'm here now waiting for them. I've never met Robert face-to-face, but I'm sure he'll be expecting a much nicer woman than the one he spoke to over the phone."

Peter snickered, "No one gets off easy, huh?"

"In this business? Hell no."

Peter arrived at Sovereignty after a bout of mid-morning traffic and a quick conversation with Seymour who had not taken well to Peter putting off his urgent message.

"If you're gonna leave a crap load of work for me to do, you could've at least made it more simple to understand. I'm only apart of middle management, you know."

Peter had groaned, aggravated with the man's known characteristic of laziness. "Seymour, it's just a goddamned sales chart and it's in English, not fucking Korean. If you can't handle it, give it someone else. I'm out on business; I don't have the time to hold your hand on some remedial-ass work. Figure it out." He had hung up the phone and tried to construe his face out of its annoyed tautness. If SoulWork did not rely on Seymour's skills, he would have gratefully let the man go by then.

Peter hung up the phone and parked his car beside the one he remembered was Trystan's. Grabbing his black briefcase, he made his way into the building, his botheration consoled by the air-conditioning and familiar voices down the hall. When he arrived at the meeting room, everyone was already of attendance, but Peter felt he would soon need a pocket-knife to cut the tension he felt in the room.

Jacob, excited and cordial as usual, was speaking to Robert, who took up the end of the long table with as much professionalism as a president. His three men sat adjacent to him, their pasty hands crossed as they listened on to Jacob with curious eyes and agreeing head nods. Kaleb was in the last chair, looking around the table at everyone as Anthony sat next to Jacob, as equally engaged in what he was saying as Robert's three men. And in between it all was Trystan, who had a "no-nonsense" disposition and was the only in the room, minus Robert, who did not feel the need to hold a complacent grin. Her arms were crossed as she stared at Robert, who every so often would break his gaze away from Jacob to size her up as well.