Trust Me (Townsend Legacy), page 1
TRUST ME
TIFFANY PATTERSON
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Townsend Family Tree
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Kyle
"I’m about to ruin this motherfucker’s birthday,” I say to my cousin as I glare across the private room of the exclusive nightclub, The Black Opal.
"Wait for me,” I tell Diego.
“I’m not your fucking lackey,” he gripes.
Still, I head directly toward my target.
“Kyle, you came,” Jayceon Carlson says, grinning.
The crystal chandeliers hanging overhead make the flickering lights from the candles reflect off the blood red velvet walls. The unopened bottles of champagne that come complimentary with the twenty-thousand-dollar price tag for each table remain in their gold coolers surrounded by ice.
Sam Tinnesz’ “Play with Fire” booms from the hidden speakers, which seems appropriate.
A smile spreads my lips, but it’s not friendly in the least. However, Jayceon doesn’t recognize that.
I allow the smile on his face to linger a little longer when I reply, “It’s your special day.”
I undo the last button of my suit jacket as I look Jayceon over, barely able to hide my contempt for the bastard.
He chuckles and glances to his left and right. He’s flanked by several of his employees, and also shrouded in women.
“Guess it only took me turning thirty-five to get this guy out of the office for once, huh?”
My top lip curls.
“He lives like Townsend Industries is his entire life.”
The semi-smile I was sporting drops. This douche has no fucking clue. The women and men around him nod in agreement and giggle. The sounds grate on my nerves.
Stepping closer, I extend my hand. “I couldn’t let this opportunity pass.”
He shakes my hand, but when he goes to pull it back, I tighten my grip. With my free hand, I wrap him up in a hold that, to an outsider, might look semi-friendly.
It’s not.
“Especially when tonight will be the end of your career as you know it,” I say loud enough for only him to hear.
He blinks in confusion. “What?”
I’m not given time to reply before we’re interrupted by a member of The Black Opal staff.
“Sir, we’ll bring your cake out shortly,” the waitress in skintight, shiny black leggings and a midriff shirt says. It’s not the usual outfit for private waitresses at The Black Opal. This leads me to conclude Jayceon put in a special request for the uniform for his party.
Douchebag.
“Kyle, whatever’s on your mind, we can discuss it another time,” he says, like this isn’t the last conversation we’ll ever have.
“That won’t be possible.” I tighten my hold around his shoulders. “As the heir apparent to Carlson Healthcare & Co., you’ve already ruined the business your father started two decades ago. You did it by fucking with my family.” I say the last part with so much venom that Jayceon visibly recoils.
“Everybody who knows me knows I don’t mind a little friendly competition. Hell, I almost prefer it if it’s a little unfriendly. It keeps everyone on their toes. The heart of what makes a business successful is competition in the market. Yet,” I pause and look Jayceon directly in the eye, “you crossed the fucking line when you went after my family.”
“I would never do such a thing,” he lies.
I know full well he’s behind the series of reports that’ve come out about supposed bribes, blackmail, and violence by my family to secure business deals. Some articles even intimated that the community center my mother, aunts, and grandmother started was nothing more than a front to funnel money into illegal dealings.
Business is business, but insinuating my mother or any of the women in my family is up to illegal activity won’t stand. So, I went on the hunt for who was behind these bullshit articles. Aside from the reporters, I came up with Jayceon Carlson, president, and next-in-line at Carlson Healthcare.
One of our company’s biggest rivals. Especially for the next acquisition I have my eyes on for Townsend Industries.
“You thought planting the seed of doubt about my company and my family would deter Sam Waterson from selling to us? You didn’t plan on your dirt coming to light.”
Jayceon’s mouth opens and closes a few times. No words come out before there’s a uprisal in the surrounding crowd. I lift my gaze to see two of the waitresses entering holding a massive square cake.
“As a special birthday present, I upgraded your cake.” I release Jayceon, who looks confused between me and the arriving cake.
Yet, his face pales noticeably when the waitresses lower the cake to the table before us. His mouth falls open as he stands there frozen, staring at the words on the cake.
“Why don’t you read the inscription for us?” I say cheerfully.
He doesn’t respond.
“Fine, I’ll do it. It’s a text exchange between Jayceon and a woman,” I say while glancing around at the crowd of a hundred or so around us. “Well, not a woman, right, Jay?” I slap him on the back. “No. This girl was only fifteen years old when this text was sent two years ago. But her sister?” I let out a low whistle. “She was even younger when you approached her, you sick son of a bitch.”
I slap his back again, this time harder. “I thought you might want a reminder of the exchanges you had with some of the underage girls you—” I can’t even say the final words because of the disgust clogging my throat.
“Don’t worry, though, you can still cut into this cake. The proper authorities have already received the necessary evidence to put your scumbag ass away for years to come.”
I squeeze Jayceon’s neck before letting go. “Happy fucking birthday. Are you going to blow out your candles?”
His face turns from ghostly to a deep crimson, almost matching the color of the walls.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
With that, I lean over and blow out the thirty-plus candles on the cake.
I swipe a finger through a corner of the cake and taste the icing. I give Jayceon a nod of approval. “Good choice on the cream cheese icing.”
After wiping my hand clean, I toss the used napkin onto the cake before striding toward the exit. Onlookers who were partying with Jayceon and kissing his ass, are now snapping photos and, no doubt, sending out social media posts of what just happened.
“Did you have to blow out the man’s birthday candles, too?” Diego asks while clapping me on the back as we exit the private room.
I shrug.
“He fucking deserved it, anyway,” Diego adds, cracking his knuckles. He looks as disgusted and pissed as I am.
We head to the VIP section of the club, which is on the second floor, overlooking the main dance floor.
“I need a drink,” I tell my cousin.
As soon as we take our seats in the leather lounge chairs across from one another, our waitress sets our drinks in front of us.
“That was fun,” I say as I sip the amber liquid in my glass.
Diego snorts. “All it took to get your ass out of the office for once was annihilating a business rival.”
“Getting rid of that scum was only one of two reasons for me being here tonight.”
My cousin lifts a dark eyebrow.
“The second is convincing you to come with me to Miami for Art Basel.”
“I swear to God. Don’t waste the fifty grand annual fee we pay … respectively, to talk business.”
A smirk makes its way to my lips.
Diego downs his drink. “This is about the Waterson deal, isn’t it?”
I nod. “This is about Sam Waterson.” I pitch forward in my lounge chair. “He’s going to be in Miami and has a hard-on for all of that art shit. Same as you.”
“Fuck you.”
I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “Not tonight. I have to get back to the office.”
He huffs and rolls his eyes skyward.
“What do I get out of this?”
“The appreciation of your loving cousin.” I sit back and fold my arms across my chest.
“What else?”
“The assurance that coming to Miami will help me land this deal and secure my promotion
“I asked what’s in this for me?”
I hold my hands out wide. “It’s not enough that you're helping to ensure our family’s legacy.”
He deadpans.
“I’ll lay off of you for a few weeks about coming over to Townsend Real Estate.”
“Months,” he counters. “Three months, to be exact. I’m working on landing a huge project at my firm, and I don’t need you pestering me about jumping ship right now.”
The frown on my face deepens. “You could put that energy to use for Townsend Industries. The company that bears our last name.”
Diego is a talented architect. He works for a large architectural firm in the heart of Williamsport. Unfortunately, the firm is not owned by Townsend Real Estate, a division of Townsend Industries. He’s wasting his talent.
“We’re the oldest out of all of the cousins,” I tell him. Between my father and his three brothers—my uncles, there are fifteen of us cousins. I alone have four siblings, including my twin sister, Kennedy. Diego is the oldest, followed by Ken and me.
Diego is not only my cousin, though. He’s my best friend considering I’m not a man who keeps friends. Family is all I need.
He rolls his eyes and points at me. “That. That is what you won’t do for the next three months if I agree to go with you to Miami.”
I grind my teeth. I know my cousin well enough to know something’s holding him back from working at Townsend Industries. He’s been tightlipped about it, but I intend to figure it out.
I don’t go this hard for Townsend Industries for nothing. As one of the oldest of our generation and the son of the CEO, I always knew for the weight of our family’s legacy would fall on my shoulders. It was never a burden. It’s always been meant to be.
As my father’s oldest son, I intend to make him and our entire family proud of the man they raised. Becoming COO is the next step to owning my legacy.
“Closing this deal with Sam Waterson in Miami will leave no room for the board to overlook my promotion.” Our previous COO retired recently. It wasn’t unexpected, but the amount of time that it’s taken to fill the role is something I don’t like.
“You’re twenty-five, and you’ve risen from intern to become VP of Operations. You work eighty to hundred-hour weeks. You’ve managed eight-figure deals most people couldn’t even dream of. They’ll make you COO,” he says assuredly.
“Damn straight they will.”
Diego says of the board of directors. As a public company, even though the CEO can appoint me directly as the COO, it still requires their approval. Since my father is in Europe on a months-long work trip, he hasn’t been in the office to appoint me in the role yet. That’ll change after Miami.
“Then remind me why I need to be in Miami again?”
I grunt. “Because I can’t stand art and all of the pretentious ass wipes who pretend to be aficionados when they can't tell a Picasso from a Pasteur.”
Diego frowns. “Louis Pasteur? Fucking seriously. He was a chemist.”
I wave his correction away. “This is why I need you there. I don’t give a shit about art. But the brown nosers who’ll be there do. You’ll help me butter them up, and I can focus on getting Waterson to sign the damn contract. You love those exhibits.”
He’s holding out, but he’s been to Miami multiple times for this event. I know he’ll cave.
A muscle in his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. He peers at me over the glass in his hands. A smile hits my mouth as I see the moment he makes his decision. His eyes are the giveaway.
“Thanks, cousin. We’ll pop a bottle of champagne once Waterson signs the paperwork.”
“That will be a huge accomplishment, indeed.” A silky voice invades my eardrums, sirening my full attention.
I peer up from the tumbler in my hands to see a woman standing before me. She’s not our private waitress.
No.
The woman in front of me is certainly not who’s been pouring our drinks for the past thirty minutes. This woman’s cinnamon brown skin is glowing underneath the low lighting of the club, full lips painted an unnatural shade of red. On her, the color sets off the red undertones in her skin.
From my seated angle, she’s tall, probably around five-nine or five-ten. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, fanning down around her face. Her coffee irises dance with interest as she peers down at me.
Before I open my mouth and demand to know how the hell she got so damn close, a distinct clicking sounds. The woman’s eyes widen as she realizes someone has placed a nine-millimeter to her temple.
I sit back in my chair, crossing an ankle over my knee, and study her reaction. She doesn’t cower or beg for the gun to be put away.
Interesting.
The usual groupies who invade my space would’ve had at least one tear fall by now.
I keep my eyes trained on her as I say, “We’ll have to discuss why it took almost a full minute for my security to do their damn job.” That’s when I pin the security guard holding the gun to the woman’s head with a glare. I often keep security with me when out in public spaces such as this.
He visibly swallows. This woman should’ve never gotten this close.
“If you ask me, their reaction time is pretty good,” she says as she moves to sit in the chair beside me.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, the gun pointed at your temple isn’t an invitation to stay,” I tell her.
Those red-tinted lips spread into a dangerous smile. “That wasn’t necessarily an invite to leave, either.”
She’s bold. I’ll give her that. I peer over at my security, who looks completely fucking confused about how to handle this. I wave him off.
He puts the safety on his gun and steps back into the shadows of the VIP section. I’ll deal with his ass later.
Movement from across the table catches my eye. Diego, who’s been silent throughout this exchange, glances between me and the woman. He stands.
“I’m in,” he says, agreeing to Miami. His eyes slide over to the woman next to me. “I’m going to make some rounds.” He smirks and saunters off.
“I thought he’d never leave,” the woman beside me says.
“Now it’s your turn.” I don’t bother sparing her a look as I down the rest of my drink.
“But we’re just getting acquainted. I was interested in the Waterson deal you’re working on.”
I grit my teeth. That she’d overheard even a part of that conversation pisses me off. I keep tight control over my surroundings for this reason. The VIP section of The Black Opal is supposed to be secure from outside distractions.
I turn to the woman, my eyes scanning her face. “If you were looking to suck my dick, there’re better ways to go about it. I don’t talk business with strangers.”
“But you’ll talk about your dick with one?” Her smile grows as she slow blinks at me.
An involuntary sound escapes my mouth.
“Don’t worry. It’s not your bed I’m interested in, Mr. Townsend.”
“Is that so?” A wave of disappointment hits me in the gut. I look her up and down, my gaze wandering over her curves in her tight, black dress. “Could’ve fooled me.”
She lets out a husky laugh. “I doubt you’re an easy man to fool. Especially since you’ve accomplished so much already in your relatively short career.”
I scowl at her. She continues to meet my stare, a look I know many men have cowered in the face of. I lean closer.
“What do you think you know about me?”
Her smile doesn’t waver. “You work your ass off, carry the family name well, and …” She trails off, glancing away. “You’re eyeing a very lucrative deal to acquire Sam Waterson’s medical supplies company. I don’t doubt that win would solidify you as Townsend’s next COO. The position has sat empty for what? Two weeks now?”
