Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Tragically, it also seemed like my pulse would not be affected by Miss Eileen Yang, who had spent the last couple dates sending me real estate links in Shanghai.
She’d already proved to be a headache.
Brett Senior trailed behind the disappointing byproduct of his sperm, followed by Dot Cum’s head of accounting, some suit named Jasper.
When I ignored his fist bump, Junior swaggered past the Guan Yu statue in my foyer, arms spread for a bro-hug.
I sidestepped him as he launched himself at me, causing him to collapse onto my floor.
“Ew.” He cupped his balls, still face-down. “Why’d you do that?”
“Not big on hugs.” I used the tip of my shoe to turn him over so he laid on his back. “Do not drool on my floor. My cleaner doesn’t need any extra work. And for future reference, do not call me Orange Chicken, unless you are prepared for me to call you Unpurposed Flour.”
Junior rubbed his knee, frowning at me. “Flour? But I’m not even Floyd.”
I closed my eyes, drawing a breath.
Senior winced, bowing his head and reaching out for a shake before remembering I didn’t do those. He slipped his hand back into his pocket.
“My apologies, Mr. Sun. My son is quite… overwhelmed with his corporate role.” He took off his hat, smoothing back white tufts of hair. “I suspect you’ll be making a few changes in management if this deal goes through?”
I turned my back on all three of them, heading toward the dining area. “I’ll be appointing my own team.”
I’d opted for a quiet home dinner rather than an official meeting. The data I needed—viable numbers, annual revenue, expenses, and net income—already sat in a vault inside my head.
This morning, I’d determined the price I was willing to pay for the company. It hovered somewhere under half of Forbes’ projected valuation.
Now it was just a matter of bending the Bretts to my will and fucking them over.
The only kind of fucking I did.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Sun.” Jasper matched my pace with Senior trailing not far behind us. “We could’ve hammered down the finer details in an office, so I appreciate the extra touch—”
“Kindly withdraw your tongue from my ass. It is not a kink I indulge in.” My feet carried me through the grand brass-and-ivory gallery. “Oh, and let me save you the awkward question—I will not be keeping you on payroll, either.”
He clamped his mouth shut.
Junior scraped himself off the hardwood, jogging to catch up with us.
“I get the whole hardball routine. I do, man. But I’m not gonna let you eat our lunch or anything. Lay out a welcome mat beneath my ass, and I’ll let you pound a deal outta me.” He circled his finger next to his temple, whistling. “Don’t be delulu, yeah?”
Nothing—and I was certain of it—could make me loathe this guy more. That we spoke the same language yet couldn’t understand one word from the other’s lips was a testament to how far our lingua franca had fallen.
“The fact that you wanna buy Dot Cum says it all.” Junior pounded his chest. “We did a good job. We deserve to stay.”
“Don’t confuse luck with talent. You stumbled into a hole in the market, no pun intended. You have three reputable developers chasing your tail and a litany of incompetent staff running your marathon. Your adversaries will catch up with you, and when they do, you can kiss Daddy’s black card goodbye.”
He scratched his temple. “Adversaries?”
“Competitors. Opponents. Rivals. People far smarter than you. You have no idea how to monetize your own brand. I’m the Jesus to your Lazarus, kid.” I waltzed past two servers, who held each double door open, revealing a columned dining room with floor-to-ceiling French windows. “You’re not here to bargain. You’re here to make carpet sounds and let the grown-ups talk.”
“They said you were a cold bastard, but I thought they were exaggerating,” he muttered.
“They didn’t.” I stopped at the chair at the head of the long oval table. “In fact, they probably lowballed it.”
People forgave me for my cutthroat attitude because I was too rich and too powerful to cross.
Also because I’d collected a long list of favors over my thirty-three years, and the prospect that I’d demand their souls in exchange made them tremble in their sleep.
Four servers rushed to pull out our chairs. The catering staff hovered around the table, popping wine bottles and angling them into our glasses.
Junior gestured for a waitress to continue pouring. That idiot needed alcohol in his system like I needed a second dick.
Jasper and Senior fretted with their napkins, glancing at me, unsure what to do.
“Sit,” I ordered.
They did.
I shook my head, producing my phone from my inner pocket.
Zach Sun:
SOS.
Ollie vB:
FUCKING FINALLY.
Ollie vB:
Told you those formative Pilates classes were gonna pay off.
Ollie vB:
And not just because of the bored trophy-wife pussy.