Chapter 5

“No, damn it! Tell the fucking Chinese, they can kiss my goddamned ass.” Red-faced, Caleb glared across the city through his office’s plate-glass windows. “The answer is still fucking no.”

At first, taking the reins from dad appeared to be a wonderful idea. Let the old man meander off to party in his early retirement. Except it was a fuck-ton of work. Not least, protecting company assets from shitty deals.

And shitty dealers like the Wan Bank. Well, they called it a “bank,” but its structure was closer to that of “van Dienst Holdings.” They possessed oodles of liquidity. Much of it their own, but also a lot gathered from aggressive investors.

They found deals. He found deals. Sometimes, they found the same deal. Which meant they compromised. However, what his Hong Kong branch had just described was no compromise. It was unlubed ass-rape.

“Fucking morons,” he cursed under his breath as he tossed the phone to an enormous, glossy mahogany desk.

After shooting from his chair, he whirled towards massive double wooden doors. Like everything else in the office, they were etched with golden flourishes. Gilded runners and shiny mahogany trim lined the walls above a gold-traced crimson carpet.

His dad loved making an impression.

So did Caleb. The opulent gold had remained.

That wasn’t the only thing he’d kept. After tugging the doors apart, he scanned a petite, middle-aged woman’s tight frame. Stunning as always, Cindy Boulanger wore a curve-hugging fuchsia dress. Its front zipper was just low enough to tempt, but not taunt. As soon as glittering brown eyes caught his stare, she swirled aside wavy, auburn hair to give him a better view.

With a sigh, he flashed her a smile. Loyal as all hell to her husband, they’d done nothing. However, she possessed a mystical ability to calm him. Like a sleek, sexy cooling rod, within the reactor that was Caleb. Nor had his dad fucked her. She was far too valuable to alienate.

“Son, I could drop dead tomorrow. It’d take weeks for anyone to notice. But if, God forbid, Cindy arrives late, the place grinds to a halt,” his father had explained on Caleb’s first visit after attaining a shiny new business degree.

At the time, he had chuckled, deciding right then to find a way into the alluring brunette’s panties. But soon enough, he’d learned his lesson. Nope, don’t mess with Cindy. While flashing him the nicest smile, she had batted him away with a firm grip on his wrist.

“I’ll give you that one pass, Mr. van Dienst,” she’d said in a flat tone despite her eyes boring into him. “Do that again, and I tell your father. Then walk.”

About dad knowing, he wasn’t worried. However, the old man’s reaction if Cindy left and the resulting negative impact on him taking over ... That was the actual threat.

After that, they’d only exchanged smiles. She even flirted, showing a bit of skin, which calmed him. Everything and everyone else revved him up, but for some bizarre reason the woman he couldn’t have chilled his core. All it took was a glimpse of her twinkling eyes, or a flash of those impressive paler curvy swells.

Kinda like Beth, before she’d fucking cheated and run the fuck away.

When Cindy caught his gaze, she raised long crimson nails to tug on the dress’s front zipper. Under the strain of her full chest, the material spread apart.

“Hmm, red lace,” he murmured. “Nice.” After a heavy sigh, he glanced at the empty chair beside her. “Any news?”

“Yes, Mr. van Dienst. HR has a candidate. An older woman.” She paused at his eyebrows arching. After a quick grin, she raised the zipper. “Quite pretty. Also sounds competent. I think you’ll find her satisfactory. And, hmm, less complicated than Miss Clarkson.”

“Complicated? Yeah, that’s a nice way of putting it.”

Despite Janey Clarkson being both a talented employee and an amazing, energetic fuck, the redhead had gotten greedy. Although she’d said “sloppy,” he knew. Hell, truth be known, her actual motives had been suspect since her first sultry-as-fuck stripper dance on his desk. But he’d no desire for children. Good riddance.

With a longer sigh, he wandered back into his office, tugging the entrance closed with a soft thump. While shaking his head, he collapsed into the high-backed black leather chair. Heartbeat slowing, he rubbed his temples and gazed at the closed doors. For wholly different reasons, a Freudian might theorize Cindy and Beth reminded him of his mother.

“Nah, bullshit,” he murmured, then laughed aloud as he gave the cityscape a quick scan.

After his mother’s death, he’d been raised by nannies and a string of dad’s girlfriends. If you could call it “raised.” Hell, once old enough to notice girls, he’d fucked the hotter representatives of both groups. Even more fun; once older, he and dad had shared. Good times. Father and son bonding over a moaning, writhing woman. Or two. Or more.

“Fucking priceless,” he mumbled before tapping on his keyboard.

With the sky darkening over the city, a peal of thunder rumbled in the distance. After a curt sigh, he cracked his knuckles and leaned into his computer to work.

Except focus slithered from his grasp, like an annoying oily smear. China. Wan. Failure. Not on his watch.

Unleashing a growl, he straightened and spun in the chair before locking onto the desk phone. Right as he took a deep inhale, the first raindrops spattered against the windows. After a sharp exhale, he slammed his fingers on the buttons.

“Steve! Pack. We’re heading to Hong Kong.”

Even as Caleb spoke, he sent a message via the computer to the company flight coordinator. Outside, a closer rumble sounded amid a deepening gloom.

“What? I thought they said they had it handled?”

At the rising tone of Steve’s voice, his eyes narrowed. He could imagine the guy shaking as he talked. Another boom shook the building.