I will see how many times your CEO escapes from me

Francisco entered the waiting room, his presence commanding attention. He cast a sharp gaze upon the two men who had inconspicuously dressed in normal attire, not in police uniform.

His bold and often rude demeanor remained undiminished, even in the face of these unexpected visitors. With a tone that exuded confidence and a hint of condescension, Francisco questioned their presence.

"For what reason," he inquired, "are you guys here?"

The two men, who happened to be police officers, were clearly unimpressed by Francisco's attitude. One of them, with a measure of annoyance, responded, "Mr. Francisco, we are here for some official matters."

Francisco, however, couldn't resist the opportunity to employ his characteristic smirk as he prodded further, "Official matters? Are you gentlemen planning to work for my company now?"

The raised eyebrows and exasperated tone of the police officers suggested that Francisco's comments weren't going over well. One of the officers attempted to assert their authority, stating, "Mr. Francisco, we are not here for employment. We are here to conduct an investigation."

Before the exchange could escalate further, a newcomer entered the waiting room, injecting a sense of urgency and significance into the situation. Their interruption was succinct but carried a weight that instantly silenced the room.

"Don't worry," the newcomer reassured, "this time, we have evidence."

Francisco turned to face and spotted Rafael, his face mixed with an annoyance. Rafael bore a mischievous smirk, a clear indication that he held a trump card in this interaction.

Francisco's eyes rolled in exasperation as he tried to maintain his composure in the face of Rafael's smug demeanor. His inquisitive tone and an air of indifference hid his growing unease.

"What do you have, Mr. Sheriff?" Francisco inquired with thinly veiled impatience.

"We've identified some of your men around Mr. James's port," Rafael revealed.

Francisco's eyebrows arched in mock surprise, although it was evident that he had been well aware of his associates' activities. He adopted a tone of innocence, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, really!" Francisco replied with a hint of sarcasm. "I must have been out of the loop."

Rafael maintained his smirk, his lips brushing the surface of a sly smile as he countered, "I know, Mr. Francisco. It's easy to overlook such details."

Francisco's patience was wearing thin, and his gaze narrowed as he regarded the sheriff. His response held a certain edge, a reminder of his position and authority.

"I believe, Mr. Sheriff," he murmured, "that you may have forgotten how to communicate with a business tycoon."

Rafael, undeterred, grinned and fired back, "Yes, especially when the tycoon is, shall we say, a criminal."

Francisco and Rafael had a longstanding history of conflict, each harboring a deep-seated animosity toward the other. Their interactions were often charged with tension, and this meeting was no exception.

As Rafael continued to make his statements, his intentions were clear, but Francisco opted for silence. He simply fixed his gaze on Rafael with a piercing intensity, a strategy he often employed to unnerve his adversaries.

Finally, Francisco rose from his seat, his patience waning. His words were laced with sarcasm, and he wasted no time in expressing his dissatisfaction.

"I was attending an interview, and you guys come here to chit chat," he quipped, his voice laden with thinly veiled annoyance.

"Be calm, Mr. Francisco," Rafael said.

Rafael attempted to diffuse the situation, advising calm, but his words fell on deaf ears. Francisco's response was resolute, and he didn't hesitate to vocalize his point of view.

"I am calm," he retorted. "After all, it's just a port, and my men have every right to move around as they please."

Rafael, however, had a card up his sleeve, one that he was keen to play. With a hint of playful intrigue, he prodded Francisco with a question that was sure to pique his interest.

"Mr. Bruce... you've heard that name before, haven't you?"

"Who doesn't know him?" Francisco replied.

Rafael, undeterred, presented the crux of the matter, leveling a serious accusation against Francisco. His words carried a weight that hinted at the gravity of the situation.

"Mr. James claims that you kidnapped and tortured his personal assistant," Rafael stated firmly, his expression betraying no doubt about the veracity of the claim.

Francisco, however, responded to the allegation with a counter-accusation, insinuating that Rafael had been influenced by financial incentives.

"Mr. Sheriff, tell me, how much cash did you accept from James to make such accusations against me?" Francisco asked, his voice tinged with a blend of sarcasm and suspicion.

Rafael's response was a question in return, a deliberate attempt to deflect the scrutiny and redirect the conversation. He maintained eye contact with Francisco, challenging him directly.

"If you were in his place," Rafael inquired, "how much would you be willing to offer?"

Francisco, no stranger to the cutthroat world of power and influence, didn't let himself be sidetracked. He cut to the chase, his piercing gaze locked onto Rafael's.

"Come to the point. I don't have time like you guys," he demanded, his impatience thinly veiled. The exchange between them had reached a pivotal moment, and the stakes were high.

As Rafael presented a photo and placed it on the table, a sly smirk crossed his face. He had a clear objective in mind, and he knew that this evidence could potentially shift the balance of power in their ongoing confrontation. Francisco, however, remained unperturbed by the photo. He didn't even spare it a passing glance for over a minute, a display of his unyielding composure.

Rafael, eager to engage Francisco's attention, leaned in and initiated the conversation.

"This guy is one of your men," Rafael declared, a challenge in his voice.

Francisco's response was marked by nonchalance, his tone dismissive.

"A lot of guys work under me," he retorted, "so I can't be expected to remember every one of them."

Rafael, undeterred by Francisco's evasive response, continued to press his case.

"We spotted him at that port," Rafael stated, his conviction unwavering.

Francisco's reaction was swift, and he wasted no time in pushing back against the insinuations.

"But that doesn't necessarily make him a criminal," he countered, his words teeming with defiance.

Their exchange escalated into a heated battle of words, a clash of wills where neither man was willing to concede ground.

"Then find him," Francisco challenged, his smirk reflecting a calculated confidence. "Find him, Mr. Officer."

In the midst of the escalating confrontation between Francisco and Rafael, a sudden interruption disrupted the tense atmosphere in the room. Max entered with a stern and authoritative tone.

"Officer, are you serious?" Max demanded, his voice laden with a sense of authority. "You are harassing our CEO. Are you aware that I may take legal action against you? Do you have any concrete proof to support these allegations?"

Rafael's gaze remained locked on him.

Max, undeterred, intensified his warning with a veiled threat. "Do you want me to call someone in a higher position about you?"

Rafael's jaw remained firmly clenched, his resolve unbroken.

However, just as it appeared that the clash between these two formidable forces might escalate further, another police officer intervened, aiming to de-escalate the situation. With a more conciliatory tone, he attempted to shift the focus away from the confrontation and back to the primary reason for their visit.

"We are sorry, sir," the officer began, seeking to diffuse the tension in the room. "Actually, we came here to ask about this man." He held up the incriminating photo once more, emphasizing its significance in the ongoing investigation.

But Francisco walked close to Rafael, ignoring the other police and he said while looking at him.

"You know what," Francisco uttered, his eyes locked onto Rafael's, "you are simply powerless to destroy me anyway."

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment. The exchange between these two dominant figures was a battle of wills, a test of who would break first. Rafael's eyes burned with determination and righteous anger, but he found himself at a disadvantage in the realm of power politics.

Francisco turned and exited the room, leaving Rafael behind. The sheriff's rage was palpable, his jaw clenched tightly as he watched the Francisco's retreating figure. He had made his intentions clear, and he was not a man to be trifled with.

Max, ever the diplomat, sought to ease the tension that had filled the room during this confrontation. He wore a wry smile as he extended an offer of hospitality to Rafael.