CHAPTER FIVE
1792 Words
“You are hereby sentenced to six months of probation and 200 hours of community service. Additionally, you are required to attend a conflict resolution course and pay restitution for damages caused.”
Wes clenched his jaw as the gavel banged, signaling the end of the hearing.
Six months of probation.
Two hundred hours of community service.
And a conflict resolution course?
He had to stop himself from laughing at that last one. Yeah, sure. Because sitting in a classroom listening to some self-important prick talk about “healthy communication” was really going to stop him from decking Jackson Feng the next time he saw him.
As soon as he stepped out of the courtroom, he ripped off his tie and rolled his shoulders, as if physically shaking off the humiliation.
His boss, meanwhile, walked ahead at an easy, casual pace—completely unaffected, like he hadn’t just watched his second-in-command get publicly sentenced like some common street thug.
By the time they reached the steps of the courthouse, his boss finally turned to him.
“You must be disappointed.”
Wes scoffed. “Understatement of the year.”
His boss raised a brow.
“It was unfair,” Wes continued, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I mean, they did it first. We just didn’t sue them or anything.”
His boss hummed, nodding. “That’s right. But isn’t this why you always need to run things through me first before you do anything?”
Wes went silent. He knew where this was going.
His boss took a slow, deliberate step closer. It took every ounce of self-control Wes had not to instinctively step back.
“You’ve always been my favorite,” his boss said, voice low but firm. “Ever since you came to me as a teenager, you’ve impressed me. But now…” He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. “…you’ve done nothing but disappoint me.”
The words hit harder than Wes wanted to admit.
He looked down, jaw tight, refusing to say anything.
His boss studied him for another second before finally stepping away.
“Go change your clothes and report back to the company.” His tone left no room for argument. “I need you to do something.”
Wes took a slow breath and nodded.
No more stupid mistakes.
Not this time.
Wes, followed by Carter, hurriedly hailed a cab the moment the boss was out of sight. The second they got in, Wes tapped the driver’s shoulder.
“Step on it.”
The old man barely gave him a glance before driving like he had nowhere else to be.
Carter groaned. “Great. We’re in a rush, and we get Grandpa Slowpoke.”
Wes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just shut up and let me think.”
By the time they finally arrived at his apartment, they bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time. Wes shoved the door open, and Carter immediately flopped onto the couch like he had personally fought the entire justice system.
Wes didn’t waste time. He ripped off his tie and threw it across the room, yanking open his closet for a clean shirt—something that didn’t reek of court hearings and disappointment. He settled for a plain black one, throwing on a jacket just as Carter sat up.
“Why the hell are you even changing?” Wes asked as he pulled on his shoes.
Carter scoffed, struggling with his own shirt. “I can’t just be walking into a high-profile company looking like I just testified against the mob. What if there’s someone hot?”
Wes rolled his eyes. “You do realize we’re not going there to pick up women, right?”
Carter wagged a finger. “That’s what you think.”
Wes didn’t have time for this. He grabbed his wallet, ran a hand through his hair, and stormed out the door. Carter cursed and followed.
An Errand With Strings Attached
Wes barely had time to catch his breath as he pushed through the sleek glass doors of the company building. The air inside was cool, a stark contrast to the blazing heat outside, but it did nothing to ease the sweat trickling down his back. Carter flopped onto one of the lounge chairs near the office entrance, stretching out like he owned the place.
“I’ll wait for you here,” Carter said, already making himself comfortable.
Wes adjusted his tie, ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled sharply before stepping into the chairman’s office.
The room was massive—floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, giving a panoramic view of the city skyline. The chairman stood by the glass, hands clasped behind his back, staring out as if deep in thought.
Then, without turning, he spoke. “You got here in a cab?”
Wes blinked. Of all things, that was the first question?
“Yes, boss.”
“Why? Where’s your car?”
Wes swallowed. “It… uh, it broke down weeks ago.”
The chairman finally turned, his expression unreadable. “And your friend doesn’t own a car?”
“He does, but it got… um, totaled in a crash.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then, with measured steps, the chairman crossed the room and leaned against his desk, regarding Wes with an unimpressed look.
“You just can’t be trusted with anything, can you?”
Wes’s stomach twisted. Does he know? Was this about the money? He forced himself to stay still, his face neutral.
The chairman sighed, his fingers tapping once against the desk before he picked up a black envelope with the company’s insignia.
“I need you to deliver this to the owner of Hawthorne Industries.” He held the envelope out, and Wes stepped forward to take it. “Make sure you give it to him personally. And don’t say a word. If he asks, tell him I sent you. Are we clear?”
Wes glanced at the envelope, then back at the chairman, his fingers tightening around the thick paper.
“Crystal.”
The chairman finally let go of the envelope, but not before giving Wes a long, scrutinizing stare. His sharp gaze trailed from Wes’s scuffed sneakers to the faded denim jeans and the plain black T-shirt he had thrown on in a hurry.
“When I told you to get changed, I meant into something formal.”
Wes frowned. “This isn’t formal enough?” He gestured to himself, as if his casual attire was perfectly acceptable for a high-profile meeting. “I mean, sure, it’s not fancy, but it’s clean.”
The chairman’s lips twitched, like he was suppressing a sigh. “You look like you just rolled out of bed and decided to play dress-up as a corporate failure.”
Wes blinked. “Ouch.”
The chairman pressed on. “You work for me. You represent me. And you show up to my office looking like you’re about to hit a gas station for a cheap beer.”
“I mean, I could actually do that after this meeting,” Wes muttered under his breath, but the chairman’s glare cut him short.
“That wrinkled T-shirt? Burn it. The jeans? Trash. The sneakers? I don’t even want to look at them.”
“Okay, damn. I get it.” Wes held up his hands in surrender.
The chairman didn’t seem convinced. He pressed the intercom. “Get in here.”
Within moments, the door swung open, and the secretary entered, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked briskly toward them. Her curled hair bounced behind her, her blazer fitted perfectly as always. She barely spared Wes a glance at first, fully focused on her boss.
“You called for me, sir?”
Wes, ever the opportunist, immediately straightened, tilting his head as he gave her an easy grin. She was cute. Too bad she always seemed more interested in her clipboard than in his charm.
The chairman, completely ignoring the way Wes was eyeing his secretary, gestured toward him. “Get this man a proper suit and tie. Now.”
The secretary gave a polite nod, scribbling something down in her notes before turning on her heel to leave.
Wes watched her go, then turned back to the chairman, amusement flickering across his face. “You could’ve just said you wanted me to look expensive.”
The chairman met his gaze, eyes cold as steel. “You should always look expensive when you work for me.”
As soon as the secretary was back, Wes was instructed to change into the suit. He was a little annoyed, but he couldn’t argue with the logic. After all, his usual casual attire didn’t exactly scream “professional.” The secretary handed him the new suit, which was perfectly pressed and felt expensive just by looking at it.
He slipped into the bathroom, changing quickly but examining himself in the mirror with a mix of disbelief and satisfaction. The suit fit perfectly, hugging his frame in all the right places. He adjusted the tie, ran his fingers through his hair, and took one last look before stepping out.
The moment he walked back into the room, the secretary stopped what she was doing and looked him over, her gaze lingering for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips.
The chairman, who had been leaning back in his chair, didn’t bother hiding his approval either. “See? You actually look like you belong here now.” He straightened up, his expression softer than usual. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Wes straightened up too, feeling the change in how he carried himself. “Well, when you get the right suit, it’s hard not to look good.” He flashed a half-smirk, still adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves.
The secretary chuckled, clearly impressed. “You should wear that more often.”
Wes shrugged nonchalantly, though the compliment felt good. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have a reason to dress like this every day.” He glanced at the chairman. “But I guess when you’re running the show, appearances do matter.”
The chairman gave a small nod of agreement, but there was something more in his eyes now—a sense of validation. “Keep it up. You might just surprise me yet.”
Wes couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t as out of place as he thought. The suit was more than just fabric—it was a symbol, a sign that he might be stepping into something bigger than he could have ever imagined. And this time, he wasn’t going to screw it up.
- Writer
