by Hughes, E.
“Business as Usual”
By E. Hughes
Copyright©2012 All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. This book may not be copied in print or in whole without expressed written consent of the author.
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Other novels by this author:
Disappear, Love by E. Hughes
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Infatuation by E. Hughes
CHAPTER 1
“Pack your suitcases, we’re going to China.”
I blinked, and glared through a crack in the door at the imposing figure on the other side before pulling it open, finally allowing my father to walk in. He was fully dressed in one of his expensive business suits, hands clasped tidily behind his back as he strolled into my apartment like it was two in the afternoon. He wore an early morning scowl on his face. The wrinkles creasing his bloodshot eyes revealed an overtired business man. What he needed was a hot shower, a warm bed, and a good night’s sleep and not a trip to his daughter’s apartment just before the crack of dawn.
“Dad… it’s five-o-clock in the morning, I haven’t even brushed my teeth,” I groaned, wiping sleep from my eyes.
He looked around, inspecting the living room. A stack of files and an open laptop sat on the table next to a cup of cold coffee and a half-eaten bagel. I fell asleep on the couch hours earlier working on a report for the Gold Dust Hotel, one of my father’s numerous companies. I was Vice President of Executive Financing at two of our branches, one in Chicago, the other in Atlantic City. I closed the door behind him, securing the lock to my upscale downtown Chicago condo. The high rise building I lived in sat on Michigan Avenue with a view of the city’s beautiful skyline and lake.
I walked to the open kitchen and gazed out at my father as he sat on the couch with a grim expression on his face.
“Daddy, can I get you something to drink?” I grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “I can warm some milk for you.”
“Thank you, but no,” he answered sternly, lifting one of my reports from the table.
“Are these the Vegas projections?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“You don’t have a graph or a chart to go with these numbers?”
I turned, gazing incredulously at the man. At 5:30 in the morning?
“Dad?” I sighed… “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my report before you start in on it. I fell asleep. But rest assured, I’ll have it done before the meeting.”
“As long as it’s not the final draft…” he frowned.
There was no pleasing him.
Dad worriedly wiped a hand across his bald head. He was tall, dark, and muscular, with the countenance of a drill sergeant, direct and plain spoken unlike the typical smooth-talking billionaire business mogul on the brink of financial ruin. He kept everyone around him on their toes. This particularly early visit was a prime example.
“I know you’re tired,” he started.
“You have no idea.”
I drank my milk then washed and dried the glass by hand before returning it to the shelf.
“Wo men qu zhong guo wei shenme?” I asked.
“Sounds like your Mandarin is improving. It’ll come in handy when you get to China.”
“My intonations need a bit of work. Daddy, why can’t I give my report by video conference? We’ve done it a million times…” I pleaded. I tossed the towel on the sink and skipped to the living room, a look of hope radiating from my eyes. “Danny’ll be here this weekend,” I beamed, parking my rear on the arm of the sofa.
Daddy scoffed at the mention of Danny’s name. No one was good enough for his only daughter especially a working class man like Danny who was employed as a registered nurse. I was supposed to marry well. With a proud grin on his face, father rose from his seat on the sofa and strode toward me with outstretched arms. At first, I thought he was offering me a hug, but as it turns out, he was the one who needed it. Dad took a step back and gazed at my face, hands resting on my shoulders. “You still have those big beautiful dark eyes,” he smiled.
I shrugged his hands away, suddenly uncomfortable. Daddy was hiding something. He had the same look on his face just before he told me my dog died when I was eight years old.
“Elizabeth, I need you more than ever right now. This whole meeting is riding on you.”
“Are we in some kind of trouble?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” His lips were flat and firm, his jaw tensing as he awaited my response.
“Of course I’ll go. I just need a little time to get dressed,” I sighed. “What time is our flight?”
Dad grinned from ear to ear. He always got his way. Mother never let me forget how much my father wanted a son. I spent my entire life trying to please him, trying to measure up to what he wanted in a male heir. If that meant taking a flight to China before dawn, then so be it.
Dad shrugged and sat on the sofa again, flipping through the pages of my unfinished report. “Eleven tonight,” he answered.
I put my hands on my hips, frowning.
“Why did you wake me up so early? I’m so tired… I feel like a zombie,” I yawned.
“We’re going to Vegas for the meeting. Afterwards, you’ll need a couple hours rest, then we’ll head over to the airport for your flight to China. The meeting’s at 9 AM so you best get ready so we can stay on schedule. We’ll take the private jet.”
I pouted as I dragged my tired body upstairs. I wore my thick white socks scrunched down to my ankles, an oversized t-shirt, and my hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. All I wanted was to sit in my apartment and work on my report with a cup of warm coffee and some music. But, nooo he just had to drag me across the country for a stupid two hour meeting.
Dad turned the television on and watched the stock market news while I showered and got dressed. I chose a power suit. A long black pencil skirt and matching blazer that framed my 5’6” figure. I pulled my hair into a sophisticated up-do and put a pair of diamond tear drop earrings in my ears. When I was done, I examined myself in the mirror. I wore a shade of crimson lipstick, an homage to the “power” women of the nineties. The color contrasted against my smooth complexion and dramatic “Elizabeth Taylor” eyebrows, as my dad used to call them.
I packed only a few accessories, business suits for work, and a couple of dresses for the evening into my suitcase. It was Wednesday. With Danny coming for the weekend, my trip to Vegas as well as China would be short and sweet.
I was just about finished packing for my trip when I heard the television. The volume had been turned up loud. I looked over the balcony from my bedroom at father. He sat on the edge of the sofa, remote control in hand, gazing at the screen. Then I heard his name.
“Byron Energy’s stock is holding steady after a series of lows at the start of the New year…” the reporter said. “Recovery has been slow for the energy giant after scandals rocked the company’s CEO, Eugene Byron a little over two years ago…”
Dad tapped his foot on the floor and rubbed his upper thigh. I hated seeing him like this. For a very rich man, Daddy was almost broke. And he was scared. After a vicious Wall Street rumor nearly destroyed his anchor company, Byron Energy, daddy used all of his personal assets to buy millions of shares in order to keep Victor Hampton, the bitter old executive fueling the rumors from taking a controlling share. Victor had designs on dismantling Byron Energy…if he could get his hands on it.
Victor claimed Byron Energy was hiding a mountain of “debt” from investors and was in so much trouble that it was soon to be acquired by AmeriAsia, an overseas land developer. Ironically, the same investor Daddy and I were going to see in Vegas about the budget for the
Gold Dust Hotel. He was Daddy’s longtime friend. We spent the weekend with the AmeriAsia investors at Daddy’s cabin two months ago. It was at my father’s insistence that I learn to speak Chinese to accommodate his friend and son, both of whom spoke fluent English. I didn’t understand why at the time, but it all was starting to make sense now.
The Vegas deal meant everything to my father as he struggled to rebuild the corporation and his good name. And I would do anything to help him.
CHAPTER 2
Despite an interior the Queen of England would envy, the private plane to Vegas was the ride from hell! I could barely steady my laptop as the turbulent flight shook the entire cabin for almost an hour. When I started to feel the rumblings of an upset stomach, a flight attendant who seconds earlier had been thrown aside as she traveled from one end of the plane to the other, offered Dramamine. I declined. I had work to do and couldn’t risk falling asleep. Not that it was possible anyway.
Dad reclined on a sofa chair a few seats ahead and chatted nonstop with two of his assistants about company business. I managed to finish my report nonetheless. I had ten minutes of free time between landing and boarding the limo that awaited us. Without time to freshen up, Dad ordered the driver to the hotel, so I could put my suitcases away, then the Concord Business Center where my father’s accounting team and the AmeriAsia investors awaited us.
The facility was a consortium of offices in a mall that included travel by escalator up to various businesses and conference rooms.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going up to the fourth level,” Dad said. “To the Honeymooners conference room.”
I followed him to the escalator and climbed on thinking how weird that sounded. I wondered if Danny was there waiting to surprise me with a marriage proposal and if Dad was in on the secret. My heart fluttered. For the past two years, Danny and I had been in an on and off relationship. He lived in Florida and could only visit a few times a year for a few weeks at a time because of his schedule at the hospital some days working twelve-hour shifts accruing enough flex time to spend a few weeks at my house in San Diego. Our relationship had been gradual. It was only a matter of time before I moved to Florida or Danny moved to California so we could be together.
I chewed on the idea until Dad and I reached the first floor. As I started toward the escalator leading up to the next level, Dad stopped and waved for his assistants to continue on without us.
“Elizabeth, I need to ask you something.”
“What is it, Daddy?” I answered, feeling a bit worried. He looked like he was ready to faint.
“A long time ago you told me you would do anything to help me. Is that still true?”
“Of course it’s still true! Why would you ask me that? Is something wrong?”
“No,” Dad said, “I just want you to know how much I love you.”
I wanted to wrap my arms around him. He looked so serious.
“You’re not dying are you?”
Dad laughed and shook his head. “Nothing that tragic. Honey, I have something to tell you,” he started.
I chewed my bottom lip, waiting for Dad to drop the bombshell he had been keeping from me. I wondered if it had anything to do with my mother or the old Byron Energy scandal, subjects we never discussed.
Suddenly Dad’s cell phone rang. Rick and Candace, his two assistants were on the line. They had already made it upstairs. He gave instructions for them to wait at the Cafe for us and told them that we would be attending the meeting alone. When he hung up, he looked at me and said “We’ll talk a bit more after the meeting.”
Dad left me a befuddled mess as I followed him to the escalator, riding each one to the top until we reached the fourth level.
There were four conference rooms. Ours was at the end of a long narrow tunnel with glass windows overlooking the lower floors.
When Dad and I walked into the Honeymooners conference room moments later, to my surprise the only people who showed up for the “big” meeting was Mr. Yu and his strikingly handsome son, Ethan Yu, whose cute face was the first thing I saw when I walked in the door. I let out a little sigh. Both were investors from AmeriAsia, the land developers from China. I wondered where the rest of Dad’s staff was and why members from our accounting teams hadn’t shown up. The room seemed eerily quiet and tense. I’d known Ethan since I was a kid. It came as no surprise to me that he would grow up to become an even shrewder businessman than his father. We’d spent an inordinate amount of time alone at the weekend retreat while Daddy and Mr. Yu fished and went bird watching. The two men left us at the cabin for hours while they played golf. We had gotten somewhat close, enveloped by a comfortable silence that concealed a slightly muted attraction.
“Nĭ hăo, Yu Xiān-Shēng (Hello, Mr. Yu),” I said, greeting the father as I entered. “Nĭ hăo (Hello), Wo hēn Gao-Xing zie jian Nĭn, (Very happy to see you again),” I said, addressing Ethan right after.
He sat straight up in his chair, fully alert, appraising me as I walked by. I followed his gaze from my legs up to my face. Our eyes connected and I smiled.
With his dark shoulder length hair and chiseled face, Ethan was an attractive man. He looked to be in his early thirties now, not much older than me. Our fathers had a friendship that spanned decades. But in all the years of knowing them, as adults, Ethan and I exchanged very few words at the cabin save for the occasional friendly greeting in passing at events where he made a habit of staring at me from beneath a cloak of dark eye lashes when he thought no one was looking.
I prepped my paperwork for the meeting with Ethan’s licentious gaze like warm fingertips roaming sensuously up and down my spine, a far cry from the stubborn boy, who once hit me in the eye with a piece of chalk when I was six years old…
When we were kids the two of us had a mutual hatred of being forced to play together while our fathers talked. Now we were the ones doing all of the talking and our fathers were the ones listening.
“Elizabeth?” Daddy called.
“Y-yes, just a moment, please…”
I erased the heedless, sensual imagery of those fingertips bumbling around in the darkness from my mind and fumbled with the papers in my hand. This was neither the time nor place for the silly girlish fantasies I often lapsed into in the presence of gorgeous men.
I opened my laptop, syncing it with the overhead screen I pulled from the ceiling. A platter left by the Café sat on a serving table. There was orange juice, coffee, tea, bottled water, and soda available to drink, as well as fruit, cheese, bacon and croissants for breakfast. I wondered why Dad dismissed his assistants as they would be the ones to pour the coffee and offer refreshments. They were also responsible for setting up the audio and visual equipment.
Sighing, I poured a cup of coffee and said “Refreshments are available if any of you are thirsty or need something to eat.” I gestured toward the platter. The Yu men and my father uttered polite refusals.
I moved to the head of the conference table as a picture of one of my charts appeared on screen. Ethan watched from the corner of his eyes as I passed him by.
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I should hope the fact that we inadvertently booked the wedding room, that it’s a sign that there will be a marriage of ideas between our respective companies after my presentation today.”
Black and white photos of women in various wedding dresses decorated the walls in expensive frames. Mr. Yu and Ethan exchanged bewildered glances.
Dad waved, gesturing for me to continue the presentation.
“Carrying on…” I uttered quietly, hoping the awkward silence permeating the room would eventually dissipate.
I adjusted the position of the screen then proceeded to go over the charts and graphs, which detailed the costs associated with the design for the new Gold Dust Hotel.
“As you can see, the designs for the Gold Dust Las Vegas are a bit elaborate. But we could always scale back and make a few changes to meet my projected budget.”
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nbsp; “How will the Gold Dust compete with other Vegas hotels if the designs are not as elaborate?” Ethan asked. “This is, a luxury hotel, right?”
I repressed the desire to roll my eyes. “I believe the hotel can be both cost effective and attractive, provided we scale back unnecessary designs,” I answered.
Father slid out of his seat as we continued talking and walked over to the serving table to pour some coffee. He mixed cream and sugar into his mug, his back facing the group.
“However, the designs for the hotel are neither attractive nor cost effective,” Mr. Yu replied.
I fished around for a worthy reply. “Then what do you suggest is necessary to get costs under control?” I asked.
“What Mr. Yu is saying, Elizabeth, is that we need something a bit more competitive for the Vegas market. All of which, is a moot point, since Mr. Yu and I have already come to an agreement. Have a seat, honey,” my father said, like I needed to sit down.
I folded both arms across my chest, annoyed that he had been keeping this secret from me. “If you already had an agreement then what was the point of this meeting?”
I tried not to show how angry I felt as I stormed over to the conference table and sat next to my father, directly across from Ethan and Mr. Yu.
“I have good news. Mr. Yu, has agreed to invest in the Gold Dust Las Vegas as an equal partner on the condition that Ethan, who is an architect, redesigns the hotel and oversees its construction. I felt, since you already worked so hard on the previous project, overseeing its budget, that we should at least hear you out.”
“So where do we go from here?” I asked, ignoring the fact that Dad allowed me to work on the budget knowing they had no intention of approving the project.
“The good news, Elizabeth, is that we would like you to oversee the budget on the new project. So nothing has changed in that regard except that you will be working closely with Ethan to get this done. With Mr. Yu’s help, we’ve secured the funds we needed to complete this massive undertaking. We expect this to be one of the grandest hotels in Vegas history.”