A Potential Issue

After your talk with Tony and what happened with Daisy the night before, you're in a pretty good mood. You head to your apartment to shower and get ready for a short day of work. You would normally take your elevator to your office but Ingrid had texted you to come in through the front doors. Not thinking much about it, you did as she asked.

Just inside, Ingrid is impatiently pacing awaiting your arrival. When she finally notices you, she rushes at you with a worried look in her eyes.

"It's about damn time." She whispers while grabbing you by the arm and leading you upstairs.

"What's going on Ingrid?" You ask.

She stops about halfway up the staircase and looks around to make sure no one else was nearby.

"There's a gentleman waiting for you in your office." She says continuing her hushed tone. "He's been asking questions about the club. And not the typical ones we usually hear. He's asking about personal stuff about you and Mr. Edwards and how ownership is broken down. I told him that he'd have to talk to you and tried setting up an appointment but he insisted on waiting for you. Something isn't right about him." Ingrid's last point strikes a cord with you. She's very good at reading people and for the most part, her first instinct about someone is correct.

You take in everything she just said and contemplate it. It's not completely unusual for people to come by and ask about potentially purchasing the club. You've had a few prospective buyers in the past month alone.

You look at Ingrid and give her a confident smile. "Well, let's see what he wants."

She raises an eyebrow and gives you a suspicious look. You can tell she wants to ask you something but she hesitates. Instead of asking you, she just leads you to your office.

She opens the door and the two of you step inside. Sitting in one of your guest chairs is a young man, probably about your age, dressed in an expensive Armani suit. His eyes are dark while the rest of his features are strong. He hasn't said a word yet but he exudes confidence and arrogance.

"William, this is Mr. Robertson." Ingrid introduces. "Mr. Robertson, this is William Carpenter."

"Please, call me Jason." He smoothly says standing up and extending his hand.

You accept and the two of you silently eye each other up for a moment. You finally end the longer than normal handshake.

"It's a pleasure. Please, have a seat." You offer as you round your desk.

"Thank you." He smiles while accepting your hospitality.

"So Jason, what can I do for you?" You ask deciding to get straight to the point.

Jason looks at you then Ingrid and back to you. "I'm sorry William. Can I call you William?" You nod yes. "I'm sorry, William, but I'd rather discuss matters with you in private rather than in front of your....associates."

The way he said that last word really aggravated you. He didn't do it directly but the intent to talk down to Ingrid was more than evident. You relax slightly but before you can tell Jason that Ingrid is more than welcome to stay, she catches your attention.

"It's okay." She says through a fake smile. You can tell she's pretty pissed but she's hiding it very well. "I have much to do before we can open tonight. Gentlemen."

She leaves and closes the door. Jason turns to you. "How the hell do you get work done with that walking around here? If I were you, I'd be bending that over all day, everyday."

You've known this guy all of thirty seconds and he's already skating on thin ice in your books.

"Mr. Robertson." You say with serious undertones. "Miss Nilsson is not only the bar manager here, she is also a very good friend of mine. I don't exactly appreciate your disrespectful tone towards her while she was here and doubling down once she left. Now, I'm rather busy so could you please state your business."

Jason raises his arms in defense. "I didn't mean to strike a nerve. I apologize. As for why I'm here, it's quite simple really. I want this club."

Just as you had thought. "I'm sorry Mr. Robertson but the club is not for sale at this time."

Jason shakes his head and smirks. "I'm sorry, you misunderstood me. I don't want to buy it. I want it outright. You know, just like how you got it."

You can't believe what you've just heard. You peer across your desk at the overtly confident Jason as he just continues smirking at you. He's being serious.

He sits up. "Yes I know how you came to acquire this place. You see, you and I have a mutual acquaintance. Well, that's not really true. You know him far better than I ever did. You know him as Robert Edwards while I only knew him as the deadbeat dad I never knew."

It's your turn to smirk at him. "I'm sorry but Mr. Edwards didn't have any kids."

"That he knew of?" Jason shoots back at you. "That's what he used to say right? Yeah, I know all the stories of dear old dad. Lifelong bachelor who'd drink and fuck anything in sight. Couldn't be bothered by family. Too bad drinking and fucking your way through life usually has consequences. And alas, here I am, one of those said consequences."

You take a deep breath as you process what Jason just said. "Let's say, for a moment, I take you at your word and you are in fact Robert's son. Why would I just give you the club?"

Jason smiles brightly. "It's simple really. This place is my birthright. Dad may not have been around or even acknowledged my existence. But I'm still his son, his only legal heir."

"I may not have a legal degree but I'm pretty sure that isn't exactly how the law works. Plus, Robert isn't dead."

"Maybe, maybe not." Jason remarks. "As for dad, who the hell knows. When was the last time you even spoke to him?" With that said, Jason stands. "But I think I've made my point clear. My lawyers will be in touch." He makes his way out of your office but stops at the door. "Do me a favor, keep that seat warm for me."

And he leaves.