The racetrack was alive with the hum of excitement, the air thick with the smell of turf and the low murmur of betting patrons. Kieran leaned back in his seat at the V.I.P box, the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation as the horses lined up in their stalls. Who knew with a little charms and a smile one could easily get into those special vip rooms.
Nolan could barely believe what he was witnessing himself do.
He hadn't come here for the race itself he wasn't a gambler. But he knew Harrow liked the track. And if there was one thing Kieran had learned about business, it was that knowing where your mark spent his time was half the battle.
The horses took off, hooves pounding against the dirt, and Kieran idly glanced at his phone, not really paying attention to the race. As he swiped through a few messages, he heard the faint clinking of glasses and turned to see Harrow stepping into the box. The man had a confident, almost cocky air about him, the same as when they'd first met at the lounge. His tailored suit caught the light just right, and his presence filled the space.
"Well, well, well," Harrow said, flashing a knowing smile as he took a seat beside Kieran. "I didn't think I would find you here. You know now that I think of it, I remember you mentioning something about real estate last time we spoke. Funny thing—" he paused, giving Kieran a winky look, "—I might have a property that could be of interest to you."
Kieran didn't miss the way Harrow's smile lingered, as if expecting him to pounce on the offer. But Kieran knew better. Harrow was trying to lead him down a path, trying to reel him in with the promise of something bigger.
He raised an eyebrow, his smile wide and genuine, if a little too practiced. "Oh, really? A property, you say? I'm all ears."
Before Harrow could continue, Kieran's phone buzzed again. He glanced down at the screen, and his face went unreadable. The article about the failed health inspection at Harrow's hotel was already making the rounds—headline blaring in bold letters: Hotel Owner's Establishment Fails Health Inspection Amidst Allegations of Poor Treatment of Homeless.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Kieran's lips, and his eyes flickered back up to Harrow, whose expression faltered just slightly when he caught Kieran's gaze.
"Well," Kieran said, shaking his head with a slight chuckle, "I don't know if you're talking about that property." His voice was calm, cool, the words landing like a calculated move in a game of chess. He glanced back down at his phone, scrolling through the article.
Harrow's smile dropped, just for a second, before he recovered, but Kieran could see the tension in the lines of his jaw. The weight of the news had hit Harrow faster than expected, and Kieran knew it would only get worse from here. Harrow's carefully crafted reputation, built on the image of his successful real estate ventures, was beginning to crack.
Kieran, with the slight tilt of his head, set the phone down and met Harrow's gaze again. "I'm not sure I can work miracles on that one, Harrow," Kieran said, his voice light but with a sharp edge underneath. "I've done some impressive things, but that's a big mess. I'm not even sure I can fix something like that."
For a moment, silence hung in the air between them, the sounds of the racetrack fading into a background hum. Harrow looked like he was about to speak, but Kieran interrupted him, keeping his tone casual but final.
"I'll have to think about it, though," Kieran added, offering a small shrug. "But… miracles? I don't know. Even I have my limits."
The words were meant to cast doubt, to make Harrow wonder whether Kieran would even consider the deal. And it worked. Kieran could see Harrow's mind racing, the wheels turning as the man tried to figure out how to spin the conversation into something he could salvage.
Nolan's voice echoed inside Kieran's head. 'What are you doing?? I thought this is what we wanted.'
Quentin's voice was a bit more pointed. 'You could break him, you know. He's on the edge. One more push and he'll fall apart, cmon Keep going'
Kieran suppressed the inner chatter for a moment, holding his posture steady as Harrow seemed to consider his words carefully. There was still something about the man that made Kieran want to tear the facade down completely, but for now, patience was key.
Harrow, for his part, stayed silent, his gaze shifting briefly toward the track, the horses galloping past in a blur of motion. It almost seemed as if he was weighing his options, knowing this conversation had turned in an unexpected direction.
Kieran didn't flinch. He didn't need to. Harrow would come back to him—he always did. The question was, how long would it take?
Finally, Harrow spoke, though his voice lacked the confidence it had earlier. "I'll keep the offer open, Kieran," he said, voice tight. "Let me know if you change your mind."
Kieran gave a casual shrug, his smile returning to his face. "I'll let you know." He then gave a slow nod, signaling that the conversation had ended on his terms.
As Kieran made to stand, he caught Harrow's eye once more, and for just a second, there was something more than business flickering in the air between them. Harrow was frustrated. Kieran could feel it. But that was all part of the game.
He didn't need Harrow to know everything, not yet.
As Kieran moved away from the racetrack, he pulled out his phone again and skimmed through the headlines of the health inspection article. It was everywhere, and it was only going to get worse for Harrow. The next step was making sure Harrow couldn't recover.
Nolan's voice whispered, almost thoughtful. 'Are you sure about this? If we draw this on too long he might figure it out.'
Quentin's voice, more pragmatic, chimed in. 'Don't worry about that. You're setting up the perfect trap. Just make sure you stay in control.'
Kieran's lips quirked into a grin as he walked away from the racetrack. He'd played Harrow perfectly. The man didn't know it yet, but he was already on the hook.
The only thing left to do was reel him in.