Burn for You

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Burn for You Page 7

by Jillian Leeson


  I beam at him, thrilled to have found a solution that suits us both. But to my surprise, the stern expression on his face remains.

  “I’m not sure. You don’t even know her. I still think it isn’t safe for you to go out without some extra protection.”

  “What do you mean? I’m not going to be alone. So stop overreacting, will you? Nothing’s going to happen to me. Anyway, you can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Like hell I can’t! Especially when it comes to your safety. You saw what happened before. I’ll get you two a car and a driver.”

  I lift my finger at him. “Don’t you dare. I’m going out with her and you’re not going to interfere. You can’t control me.”

  I swivel around, my hands as fists by my sides to contain the fumes that are threatening to come out of my ears. Marching through the double doors into the living area and past the kitchen, I head straight for the bedroom to grab my clothes. But before I can reach the door handle, I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder, forcing me to spin around.

  I look down at my bare feet, sunk in the plush burgundy carpet. I refuse to look up, into those hypnotic dark eyes of his. I’m not going to let him rule my life.

  Ryder is so close to me that I feel the heat coming off his body. With a warm breath in my ear, he whispers, “I know I can’t control you. And I won’t try to. But I’m worried about you. You have no idea what I went through when I couldn’t find you at the show.”

  He strokes my hair. “Be careful, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if anything were to happen to you.”

  I look up and meet his gaze. It’s overflowing with concern, and I immediately regret my outburst. I know he means well. I have to stop assuming he is like my over-controlling mother. He loves me—that’s why he wants me safe.

  I lift my hand and rest it in the middle of his chest. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll text you every hour, okay?”

  “I’m counting on it.” He lifts his arm, and his sleeve slides down to reveal the state-of-the art smartwatch I gave him—one that is connected to his cell, so I’ll always be able to reach him.

  I slide my hand up around his neck and pull him toward me, claiming his mouth with mine. My tongue brushes his lower lip, and when it connects with his, an electric current shoots all the way down to between my legs. I deepen our kiss, and my hand trails down his shirt, relishing the feel of his defined abs underneath, until it reaches his waistband. Gripping his thick, hard length elicits a moan from him. Encouraged, I start unzipping his fly, but his hand curls around my wrist.

  “I can’t. I have to go.”

  Letting out a groan, I release him and raise my hands. “I know, I know. Work.”

  I look away to hide my disappointment.

  “I’ll make it up to you tonight. I promise.” Ryder kisses my forehead before turning back to the dining room. I follow him, watching him sling on his jacket and put his laptop in his briefcase.

  “Good luck,” I say after he kisses me in the doorway.

  “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Me, too.”

  I look at him waiting for the elevator, tapping his foot. He seems tense, almost nervous. I have never seen him like that. He’s always calm and completely in control, to the point that he comes across as cocky. The elevator arrives, and he turns to me briefly with a wink before he enters.

  Sighing, I go back in, pressing my back against the door until it clicks shut.

  Something is off. What is he not telling me? I know he has some business to attend to while we’re here, but why does he seem so anxious about it? And why doesn’t he tell me about it?

  I place my hand on my chest, where the answer has produced an aching twinge—he obviously doesn’t trust me enough to confide in me. Tears threaten to well behind my eyes, but I breathe in deeply, straightening myself. I’m stronger than this.

  I’ll find out what’s going on. Tonight.

  And this time, I won’t take no for an answer.

  Ryder

  I hate what I have to do today.

  It’s the part of business I despise most: sucking up to clients. I much prefer to immerse myself in work: trading shares, options, futures, and bonds, and devising new systems to beat the markets. As much as I can, I try to cut down on the time I spend stroking the egos of clients—I have a special team for this. But this time, the meetings are too important to leave them to my staff. I have no choice—to ensure the survival of my company, I have to acquire new clients. And not just any clients. They have to be willing to invest millions and millions in my firm. One thing I know for sure: it’s going to be a damn long day.

  A shrill whistle sounds: my ride is here. The bellboy opens the door of the hotel’s courtesy Rolls-Royce limo, and I sit down in the back seat, my hand resting on my briefcase containing the presentation that will determine my future. I direct the driver to my first appointment, and when he hits the road, I pull out my cell and stab in a text to Elle.

  Meetings all day. But making up for it tonight, beautiful.

  A few seconds later, I receive a reply.

  You better. But first we have to talk.

  Me: What about?

  Elle: We’ll talk tonight.

  I frown. Is she upset about how I left her this morning? I know I left her wanting, but it was damn hard for me, too. I’d almost given into temptation, with her curvy ass grinding in my lap. Only a glance at the presentation on my laptop made me tear myself away from her. But after today’s meetings, I’ll give her what she wants—hell, what I want.

  Me: Tonight, I need three things. You. Bed. No clothes.

  Elle: Tick. Tick. Tick.

  Elle: I’m ready.

  Me: You’re kidding, right?

  Elle: Just came out of the shower. Dripping wet, ready for you…

  Me: You’re killing me here.

  Elle: Giving you a taste of what’s to come.

  Me: You’ll come all right. Again…and again…and again…

  Elle: Can’t wait. Come back soon. I miss you.

  Me: Miss you too. Will think of you all day.

  Elle: Have to go, my friend’s here soon.

  Me: Enjoy. Make sure you use the card.

  Elle: I’ll bleed you dry :)

  Me: I don’t care. As long as I get to keep you.

  Elle: Love you XXX

  I type my reply as a warm glow flows through my heart. Elle is my light in the darkness. She means so much to me—I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  I must do well today. The construction project for the homeless she is so passionate about is riding on my success in getting new investments. I can’t—I won’t—let her down.

  The limo stops at the foot of a glass-and-steel skyscraper by the harbor: I have arrived at my first meeting. And it’s not long before a panel of straight-faced Chinese businessmen in identical suits are facing me across the conference room table, with the stunning Hong Kong skyline as a backdrop.

  As I conjure up graphs of my firm’s performance on the screen behind me, I start my spiel: “As you can see, our hedge funds have performed superbly well… blah, blah, blah… And that’s why you should invest your money with Crest Management.”

  Three hours later, my jaw is aching from smiling and saying this over and over again, and my ears are ringing from hearing, “We’ll let you know”. Only a few potential investors ask for another meeting, but so far, I have not been able to secure any commitments. I am just as far from my goal as when I started in the morning.

  Standing in the elevator down to the limo, I let out a deep sigh. I had hoped I could get this over and done with in one or two days so I could spend the rest of the time in Hong Kong as the holiday I promised Elle. God knows I’ve crammed enough meetings in a day. But it looks like this is going to take a lot longer than I expected. When Elle finds out, she won’t be happy. If only she knew why I am forced to do this.

  Walking through the revolving doors, I make up
my mind. Elle said she wanted to talk, and I will. I will tell her everything, tonight. I’ve been so distracted lately—I owe her that much.

  The limo is already waiting for me by the curb to take me to my lunch appointment. It stops in front of a white four-storey building with a huge silver sign in Chinese, and a small English translation above the entrance: “Fook Lam Moon”.

  “We’re here,” the driver says. “Very famous restaurant.”

  “Is it?”

  “We call it the ‘Rich Man’s Café’. A lot of rich and famous people like to eat here.”

  I lift a brow. To me it looks like any other Chinese restaurant. Dozens of people, mostly in business attire, are milling around the entrance, eager to snatch a lunchtime table. I step out of the limo, wondering how I’ll get through the crowd, when a pretty long-haired waitress in a red, figure-hugging Chinese dress appears out of nowhere.

  She puts her hand on my arm. “Mr De Luca? Please follow me.”

  I enter the restaurant with a view of her sashaying behind, and I smile to myself. There was a time when this was all it took for me to try getting her into bed with me.

  The waitress ushers me into an elevator and presses the button to the top floor. Hand on hip, she says, “So, you here on business?

  “Yeah. But I’m also on holiday.”

  She takes a step closer to me, placing a pink-nailed finger on my chest. “Really?”

  I nod. “With my girlfriend.”

  “Ah. But where is she?”

  “She’s getting ready for me.” I wink at her. “She’ll be my dessert for after lunch.”

  Narrowing her gaze, the waitress instantly withdraws her finger, but the flash of disappointment in her eyes doesn’t elude me. When the elevator doors open a moment later, she marches into the room twice as fast as she did before.

  I grin. Since I’ve met Elle, other women have lost their appeal to me. Just thinking of her, of what I’ll do to her tonight makes me hard. I’m so far gone—sometimes I wonder if Elle even realizes what effect she has on me.

  The waitress opens a door, and it leads to a private dining room with a round table at its center. Around it sit ten or so young, bright-faced men wearing sharp jackets. When I enter, they all look up, and I immediately recognize a familiar face.

  “Ryder, my friend. We meet again.”

  Cecil shakes my hand. It’s great to see him, especially after my boring, fruitless meetings this morning.

  “Let me introduce you to everyone.” He turns to a guy with spiky hair, who sits beside him. “You’ve met Blake, I believe.”

  “Of course. How could I forget? Mr Sesto Elemento.”

  Blake beams. “You had a good time, yeah?

  “The best. Seeing your Sesto was definitely one of the highlights.”

  His green eyes sparkle. “Congratulations on the gold membership. You really deserved it. Yours may have been one of the best times ever.”

  “The girl wasn’t far behind, though.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “You mean Ying? Yes, she’s very good.”

  Blake exchanges a glance with Cecil, and for an instant I detect a strange vibe passing between the two. But before I can question it, Cecil places a hand on my shoulder and continues his introductions. I shake hands all around the table before sitting down for lunch.

  Before us appear bowls of shark fin’s soup, eaten more for its value as a status symbol—one small bowl could cost hundreds of dollars—than its tasteless flavor. A multitude of dishes follow, until the table is laden with a staggering amount of food: a variety of dumplings in bamboo baskets, a giant red lobster with a creamy sauce, stuffed crab shells, golden fried noodles, glistening Chinese vegetables, and in the middle of the table a giant oval plate holding a glossy roast suckling pig.

  The waitress pours me a cup of fragrant tea while Cecil picks up a shrimp dumpling with his chopsticks and puts in my bowl. “Here, try this. You’re going to love it.”

  I bite into it and nod, silently agreeing that it tastes good. But I have to admit, it’s not as juicy and delectable as the dumplings Elle and I ate in the tiny one-Michelin-star restaurant. The memory makes me smile.

  Picking up a dumpling for himself, Cecil says, “So, what did you think of our meeting the other night?”

  “It was fantastic. You guys own impressive cars all right. I haven’t even seen some of them in the US yet.”

  “We know how to appreciate the greatest, the fastest cars on the planet. And, as you must have noticed, there’s no limit to what we can buy.”

  He picks up a piece of lobster and deftly shells it with his chopsticks before placing it in his mouth.

  “We’re interested in what you do, Ryder. Tell us more.”

  Sitting up straight, I start talking rapidly about the funds I run and their fantastic returns on investment—until that glitch last month of course, but I don’t mention that.

  “I’ve seen the figures. Your results are outstanding. So why are you looking for new investors?”

  “We’ve been mainly focused on the US and Europe, and I feel it’s time to take on the Asian markets.”

  It is true—I’ve always wanted to set up an Asian hedge fund, but never got round to it. Now is a time as good as any to make it a reality. When I explain my plans to him and his associates, they nod thoughtfully. For the first time today, their friendly, interested facial expressions make me feel hopeful.

  That is, until Cecil says, “I noticed that your funds’ performance took a nosedive last month. What happened? Have you had problems with your computer system?”

  I freeze. How the hell does he know? It is not public information; only a handful of people know about it. And whatever information may have leaked is based on speculation; only my right-hand man Alex and I know what is really going on.

  I take a deep breath. “Our computer system is extremely sophisticated, and although we’ve put certain measures in place, a technical error has somehow crept in. But the problem has been fixed, and the system is completely secure now. In the history of the firm, this has never happened, and I’ll make sure it’ll never happen again.”

  Cecil strokes his chin. “I believe you. You seem like you’re a man of your word.”

  “I am. I can assure you.” I clench my fists under the table. Please, don’t let this get in the way of their decision.

  Keeping his eyes trained on me, Cecil clears his throat. “You’re a member of our club now. I trust you. And I hope we can work together.”

  My pulse jumps. Does this mean he’s willing to invest? I coolly lift a brow, signaling my need for further explanation.

  Sitting back in his chair, he says, “We’re looking to build a race track in the US that will become part of an exclusive resort. We’re thinking luxury villas with private pools, an eighteen-hole golf course, a beauty spa, a state-of-the-art fitness center, a lagoon pool, tennis courts—the whole package. And the resort will be within driving distance to the world’s greatest casinos. We’ve been planning it for a long time, but haven’t found the perfect site. Until now.”

  “But why in the States? Why not here in China or elsewhere in Asia? You have plenty of land.” I put a piece of suckling pig in my mouth, savoring its crispy skin and the flavorful meat underneath that melts in my mouth.

  “We already have a resort here, just outside Shanghai. It’s doing extremely well. So well, that our members are asking for similar resorts all over the world. They can go racing in style and comfort, while their families can enjoy the resort facilities—get pampered in the spa and do shopping in nearby cities.”

  “It sounds interesting. But I don’t see how I fit in the picture.”

  Cecil leans forward. “The site we found that’s perfect for the resort is located in Arizona, just outside Las Vegas. But the problem is that shale gas deposits were found at the site. And that’s why the land won’t be sold to foreign investors like us.”

  A clanging noise makes me look up, but it’s only a waitress
who has dropped a tray and is picking up bowls from the floor.

  I turn back to Cecil.“So, you want me to help you acquire the land?”

  He nods. “We would be more than happy to invest in your company. Your hedge funds are performing well, and I’d be happy to put in fifty million of the club’s funds, and another ten of my personal funds. And I’m sure the other members would be happy to invest a similar amount. Right?”

  He looks around the table, and one by one the club members call out numbers.

  “Five million.”

  “Eight.”

  “Ten.”

  “Fifteen million.”

  “Eight.”

  Producing a lopsided smile, Cecil raises his finger. “Altogether more than one hundred million dollars. I think that makes an offer that’s hard to refuse.”

  A hundred mils! My heart almost jumps out my chest with joy, but I will myself to play it cool.

  “It’s definitely an offer worth considering. It would help if you could send me some more information about your plans and the land you’re thinking of acquiring. But so far, it sounds promising.”

  “Think about it. And let me know within the week. We want to move fast on this. ”

  “I will. We’ll keep in touch.”

  Shaking hands with Cecil, Blake, and the other club members, I keep the straightest face I can muster. But inwardly, I’m cheering. This is the answer to all my problems. And judging from the look on Cecil’s face, he is just as pleased as I am—it’s a win-win situation.

 

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