Stanley Gleeful leaned back in his chair, boots propped carelessly atop his desk as he counted a stack of bills. The grin on his face suggested every last one had been acquired through methods he’d rather not explain.

He heard the door open and immediately swept the money beneath a ledger.

“Well, well.” His eyes narrowed with amused suspicion. “You’re either here to make me an offer, cause me a problem, or make the mistake of thinking I’m an honest businessman.”

He rose, adjusting his tie with a crooked smile.

“Lucky for you, I’m flexible.”