Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 55093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I had to rein her ass in when she made a move towards my bag collection. “Oh hell no, not yet. Last resort.” I’ve been collecting designer bags since I was about twelve. It was the one thing mom and I had in common, our love of leather. “No bags and shoes until absolutely necessary.”
“Okay chica keep your shorts on.”
She put me to work and for the next couple of hours I all but forgot my predicament. That was until mom rang her bell and I remembered that she hadn’t eaten since I got home and probably hadn’t left her room all day, which meant she hadn’t eaten since I forced her to have some toast at breakfast this morning.
“I’m sorry Simone, I have to go make dinner.”
“No problem I’ll just finish pricing the rest of this stuff, then we can get started on the pics.” I started to leave and as I looked back I saw the set determination on her face and realized that she was really here for me. I guess it’s true what they say. You know who your real friends are when the chips are down.
3
Jason
She plagued me the whole damn night. Instead of the cocktail party I was supposed to attend I’d spent the rest of the evening moving around my penthouse apartment trying to figure her out in my head. Even the shot of whiskey I’d downed after my light meal of salmon and salad hadn’t numbed the thoughts of her and what the hell she was going through.
She’d just lost her dad and from what little I’d seen was still having a hard time dealing. At least that’s how I perceived our little interactions. I didn’t know her well enough to gauge the situation fully, only what was written about her escapades as a socialite heiress. Which left much to be desired if the reports were true. But I knew better than most that half that shit was made up bullshit mixed in with half-truths and innuendo.
I got up the next morning still thinking about her, wondering if she was going to pay me a visit at end of day. There was no longer a reason for her to, and I found myself missing her already. I think I was just slightly attracted to her, which made no sense at all. I like my women timid, this one had hellcat written all over her.
I was able to put her out of my mind long enough to concentrate on my business, which without her little hiccups was coming along just nicely. Her dad’s company wasn’t my first take over or buyout, but it was the crown jewel in my little empire.
Since my first start-up in my mom’s basement right out of college, I’ve been moving full steam ahead. I got my first break with a gaming software but I always knew that that’s not where I wanted to stay. After my first lucky million I invested hard until I had enough to invest in my first company.
Within two years I had a cool ten million in my portfolio and no one knew, because nothing changed. I still wore the same ratty tees and torn jeans with five-year old sneakers. In this day and age ten mil was nothing more than a drop in the pan, nowhere near the big guns. I wanted to be at the top of the game, wanted to play in the big leagues, so I knew I had a long way to go. Now my yacht was worth twice that and with this new acquisition I was set to make much more.
The Bronson Company was a metropolis in itself. It included a newspaper, a magazine; television studios and real estate. And I’d got it all for a song. I still don’t see how one of the world’s foremost businessmen had lost it all, had fallen so low at the end. Greed I guess. Sometimes when people have that much money they get stupid. They let the money run them instead of the other way around.
Timothy had got himself mixed up with the wrong damn people going after shit that wasn’t his. The SEC had come down on his ass for insider trading and the dominoes had started to fall from there. By the time I came along he was barely hanging on by a thread. I could’ve offered him twice as much as I did, but I was so disappointed in him and the choices he’d made that I didn’t go easy on him. Had I known that he would’ve ended his life I probably would’ve seen things a little different.
It wasn’t like I’d handed him the gun, so why should I feel this guilt? I know why. It was his damn daughter’s face that was haunting me. The way she looked so lost each time she came to me. Nothing at all like the vivacious party girl whose face was always splashed across the screen.