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I sit up on the bed, calling her name. Silence.
It was a fucking dream. I rub the sleep out of my eyes with the back of my hand. Reality is here, crushing me.
Then I notice a pair of black lacy panties on the pillow and a note on the nightstand.
Thank you for giving me more than I was looking for.
No phone number. No last names. Nothing.
Exactly as we promised hours ago.
Fuck.
Chapter One
David – Four years later
“Why are you calling me on a Saturday at six in the morning?” I don’t care about greeting my lawyer more formally. Getting a call from the guy who manages all your legal business at this hour only means one thing—bad news. He didn’t make the call to ask me to be the best man at his daughter’s upcoming wedding.
With the speakerphone on, the rumble of his laughter breaks into the room. I tie my running sneakers while the sunrise peeks over the horizon. “I know you, David,” Charles Lewis, my company lawyer replies. “You have been working out for at least an hour, and now you’re getting ready to run around the construction site.”
Dang, the man knows me way too well. This is my weekend routine. Since sleep isn’t a great deal to me, I’m up and lifting some weight in my apartment’s gym and then checking the construction site while doing cardio. Two birds, one stone, right?
“Is something happening?” I’m bracing myself for the bad news already. An accident? More supplies delayed? A strike? The possibilities are endless.
Since winning the company’s ownership a few years ago, I’ve become accustomed to dealing with shit day in and day out. The city of Los Angeles is hosting the Olympic Games in Summer 2028, and we won the bid to build part of the Villa, a new coliseum to host the inauguration ceremony and many other events, the Aquatic Center, and two more buildings to host logistics, communications, and recreational facilities.
Our main goal is to make the structures magnificent for the competitions but also an investment for the city and the State University, where the events will be located. We spent a lot of time studying the past Olympic Villas site issues and are resolved to eliminate them. The local government and the sponsors are investing close to seven billion on this, a shit ton of money. The mayor’s words were clear. He wants no frills but quality, two weeks is a short time for revenue, but we will make it last for years.
“Nothing is happening,” he assures in a more placating tone. “Well, at least not with the company and its current operations.”
“Go and get your coffee,” I growl. “You’re being too cryptic, and I have shit to do. Two managers are meeting with me in a while.”
I walk to the windows. The view from here is amazing, and it makes every single dime I paid for this penthouse worth it.
“I’m fine, but you’ll want to sit to hear this.”
I roll my eyes. I’m tired of this shit already. “Straight to the point, Lewis.”
“Ok,” he breathes. “Yesterday, I got a call from the Collings’ family lawyer.”
See? I was right. This is bad news.
“What do they want now?”
The Collings are the distant relatives of the guy who bequeathed me the company. Johan and I were together at the rehab center where I checked myself in almost four years ago to deal with my alcohol problem. He had been there for months before my arrival.
One night we were playing poker, I was ready to leave with my current winnings, and Johan wasn’t ready to let it go. He tempted me to stay, saying he would legate me his company after his death. I laughed at the crazy remark, but I stayed. The man was a walking mess—fuck, my own life was a disaster—but eventually, we became close friends.
I don’t know why he insisted on staying at the clinic when he didn’t mean to overcome his addiction. He drank into oblivion every night, and more times than I care to count, I held his head while he threw up his guts into the toilet. Johan needed a friend, and I needed someone to listen in silence without judging me about my regrets.
Two weeks after Johan passed away while sleeping, his will executor came to visit me. The man was true to his word. A construction company he owned was mine, and I had no fucking clue what to do with it. Yeah, I’m an architect, but my career was more focused on designing and building houses with a sustainable vision, nothing too big.
Owning a company is an entirely different game. You have to leave the hard hat aside and become an entrepreneur. Staff, contracts, supplies… I’m an obsessive motherfucker, I like to keep a thumb over my business, so I know everything about it now.
Needless to say, his family has been trying to challenge the will since then. The same family who never cared enough to pick up the phone when Johan called is making a fuss again. Great things are never easy. JHC was a gift, but since the moment the ink on the documentation was dry, I’ve worked my ass off for it.
“What now?” This makes me uneasy. I learned something at the rehab center. It’s all about control, and since then, I’ve made it my motto. Order. Control. Discipline. Those are the first steps on the path to success.
