"I always get what I want." smirked Cal to his manservant, who bowed in response.
Cal shook the broad shoulders of his smartly dressed companion "And what we have created is quite extradinary."
Spicer looked up in surprise, his face hard. "We each make our own luck, Mr Hockley."
Cal frowned.
"Please, call me Cal. I have no interest…in splitting up this business arrangement Spicer," he said softly, "I am too invested now. We make our luck together."
Spicer Lovejoy pursed his lips in disapproval but they both knew what that really meant. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Very well, Mr.- Cal."
Cal smiled and straightened. "Don't you dare pull the trigger on this yet Spicer," he said coolly, his pulse beating rapidly, "I assure you, if we wait, we will both get what we want for business to proceed."
Spicer glared at him. "With all due respect, rose has left us. There is no possibility of making it"-he paused-" in the real world".
Cal fired back "You daft man. Real World. Left." He snorted. "On an iceberg I am sure. However, if you are right, I am confident that we can still produce
finely scented stationary."
Cal leaned closer to Spicer and straightened up his white collar, checking the gun was still there.
Spicer Lovejoy jerked as if electricity was passed through him "Gun powder scented stationary." his head reeling in the ingenious suggestion, new
markets to exploit, epitome of masculinity, patents..-
As if reading Spicer's mind, Cal shook his head and put on his phantom mask. "This could go so many ways."