Colin Whidby had been my primary liaison for DigiStream negotiations until his hospitalization and subsequent ouster. Charismatic, gregarious, and prone to hyperbole, he was the type of startup founder who graced magazine covers and was featured in viral interview clips.
Rohan Mishra was his opposite. Quiet, calm and methodical, the twenty- four-year-old wunderkind observed me with obvious skepticism.
I’d finally convinced him to agree to another sitdown, but our talks weren’t progressing any further than they had over email and videoconferencing.
“You have the user base and technology, but you don’t have the ability to scale as quickly as your business demands,” I said. “Your current audience is concentrated in the US, Canada, and pockets of Europe. We can take you global. Our presence in emerging markets—”
“I don’t give a fuck about emerging markets,” Rohan said. “I told you. It’s not about the money. Colin and I built this company from the ground up. We dropped out of Stanford and worked our asses off to get it to where it is today. He may have been impressed by all the zeroes you’re throwing around, but I’m not. I’ve done my research, Young. You think I’m going to roll over and let some vulturish corporation sweep in and tear us apart the way you did to Black Bear?”
Goddammit, Tobias.
My jaw clenched. The ink hadn’t even dried on the Black Bear contract before he’d pushed through “significant restructuring.” Mass layoffs, destroyed morale. It was a mess.
“I’m not the one running point on Black Bear,” I said. “I assure you, DigiStream will be integrated seamlessly under my watch.”
“It doesn’t matter whether it’s you or someone else running point. It’s all the same.” Rohan shook his head. “You look out for your bottom line, not anyone else’s. With Whidby gone, the company needs stability, not more change.”
Frustration chafed beneath my skin.
Goddamn Whidby. I should get the phrase tattooed, given how many times it crossed my mind.
“Give me a list of specific concerns,” I said. “Layoffs, team restructuring, workplace culture. We’ll hammer them out. We’ve been in negotiations for over a year, and you and I both know a merger would be a boon to both companies. This is a billion-dollar deal hinging on a few small details.”
“Small but important.” Rohan tapped his fingers against his armrest. “I’ve seen the tabloids, and I’ve heard the rumors. Your selection as CEO isn’t guaranteed.”
My spine stiffened. I’d put out the most urgent fires while I was in Turks and Caicos, but there were plenty of smaller blazes left unchecked. My mother had found out about Jade Cay, which was why I’d been avoiding her calls all week. I had to follow up with Clarissa, who’d left me a cryptic voicemail over the weekend, and Paxton, who’d reached out again with an alliance offer. With the way things were going, I was seriously considering it.
“Honestly, I didn’t think you were the playboy type,” Rohan said, his eyes sharp. “Sneaking around with a bartender? Very unlike the image you’ve previously portrayed.”
Irritation hardened my jaw. If there was one thing I hated almost as much as losing, it was being called a fake. “I didn’t realize my personal life factored into our talks.”
“It shouldn’t, but given the mess with Whidby, I’m sure you understand why I’m hesitant to do business with someone who’s embroiled in scandal.” “I was dating an employee, not doing drugs,” I said flatly. I used the past
tense deliberately, if not truthfully. No one needed to know about my
continuing relationship with Isabella until after the vote. “She’s no longer employed at Valhalla, which renders the point moot.”
“Perhaps.” His fingers tapped faster.
Sneaking around with a bartender? Very unlike the image you’ve previously portrayed.
I could read between the lines. Rohan didn’t care about Isabella per se. The tabloid gossip had thrown my character into question, and he was worried about being deceived.
Unfortunately, no matter how much I tried to reassure him, he didn’t budge.
“We can resume our last round of talks after the vote,” Rohan said after half an hour of fruitless back-and-forth. “I’m not signing anything until I’m sure the new CEO will honor the terms, both in spirit and on paper. I can’t risk it, and like you said, we’ve been in negotiations for a while. If you’re voted in and we still can’t come to an agreement, then I’m sorry. The deal is dead.”
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I left Rohan’s office and headed straight to my hotel bar for a stiff drink. My head pounded with a vicious migraine, which my scotch did nothing to alleviate.
Four months ago, I’d had the DigiStream deal locked in, the CEO position within reach, and my pesky emotions in check. Now, my control over my professional and personal lives was unraveling faster than the seams of a worn-out coat.
The downward slide started the moment I walked upstairs and heard Isabella playing the “Hammerklavier” at Valhalla. If I’d stayed at the bar that day, I might’ve been in an entirely different situation right now.
The problem was, if I’d stayed at the bar, Isabella and I would’ve remained acquaintances. No secret room, no Brooklyn date, no Christmas movie marathons or island getaways or the dozens of small moments that had made the otherwise hellish months bearable.
My gut twisted.
I rubbed a hand over my face and tried to focus my thoughts. I was here for business, not to wallow over should haves and what-ifs.
My phone lit up with a news alert.
I glanced at it, then froze.
“Kai Young’s Mistress’s Lies Exposed!” the National Star gloated.
A sour feeling spread in my stomach. I clicked on the headline and was greeted with a giant photo of Isabella working at a dive bar. She wore hot pants, a tiny crop top, and a big smile as she leaned over the counter. Several frat boy types ogled her cleavage.
I couldn’t see their full faces, but I had the sudden, visceral urge to hunt them down and gouge their eyes out.
I swallowed my anger and scrolled to the actual article.
Bartender, plaything, and…millionaire heiress? You read that right! Kai Young’s latest fling is no innocent employee caught in the web of a predatory employer. [Read our article on how the seemingly “nice” billionaire heir abused his power at the exclusive Valhalla Club to coerce the younger woman into a relationship].
We did a little digging into the poor girl’s past and discovered Isabella Valencia is not so poor after all. In fact, she’s the only daughter of Perlah Ramos, the founder and CEO of the Hiraya boutique hotel chain. The wily matriarch kept her maiden name while her children took her husband’s last name...
Shock splashed ice down my spine. Hiraya Hotels? I was drinking in one of their properties right this second.
The Valencia brood boasts several talented children, including Ramos’s eldest son and Hiraya COO Gabriel, an award-winning engineer, a tenured professor at UC Berkeley, and celebrated artist Oscar (né Felix Valencia). No wonder their youngest child—and only daughter—kept her real identity under wraps! Other than a string of short-lived bartending stints and even shorter-lived odd jobs, she has embarrassingly few accomplishments to her name. It must be hard, getting outshone that much by her siblings.
Except for Oscar, the Ramos/Valencia family is notoriously press-shy. Perlah Ramos hasn’t given an interview in more than eight years. That explains why no one made the connection to Isabella earlier, but that doesn’t explain why the snobbish Kai Young stooped to messing around with the help. Heiress or not, she’s far from his usual Ivy League-educated type.
We’re guessing the youngest Valencia is quite talented in other ways that don’t involve her brain...
I’d read enough.
Fury outpaced shock in a heartbeat. Crimson splashed across my vision while a swift, white heat burned through my veins.
Fuck California and DigiStream. I was going to sue the National Star into oblivion and dismantle Black’s media company, piece by piece, until even vultures wouldn’t touch its rotting carcass. Then I was going to track Victor Black himself down and murder him.
“Kai Young?”
An unfamiliar voice interrupted my increasingly and alarmingly violent thoughts.
I looked up. A man around my age stood next to me, his suit and tie as neatly pressed as the ones lining my closet.
Recognition doused the rising flames of my anger.
I didn’t have to ask who the newcomer was. They had the same dark eyes, full lips, and olive skin. She burst with life and color while he looked like he’d been sucking on a rotting lemon since he escaped from the womb, but the similarities were undeniable.
“Gabriel Valencia, COO of Hiraya Hotels.” Isabella’s brother gave me a thin smile. “We need to talk.”
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Fifteen minutes later, I settled into a chair in Gabriel’s office.
Hiraya Hotels was headquartered in Los Angeles, but it operated hotels throughout the state. As COO, Gabriel must have an office in most, if not all, of them.
We eyed each other warily across his desk.
It wasn’t how I’d pictured meeting Isabella’s family, but at least he’d interrupted me before I committed several felonies and a murder.
“First, I must apologize for the unorthodox manner in which I approached you,” Gabriel said stiffly. “We place utmost value on our guests’ privacy. However, I’m notified whenever a VIP checks into any of our hotels. Given the circumstances, you must understand why I sought you out when I saw your name.”
“By circumstances, I assume you mean the National Star hit pieces?” I refused to call them articles. Articles required a modicum of objectivity; the most recent publication was libel. Once my lawyers were through with them, there wouldn’t be much of the Star left. I’d make sure of it.
Victor got his short-term victory, but he’d made a crucial long-term mistake.
Gabriel’s mouth flattened further into a granite line. “Because of you, photos of my sister are splashed all over that rag. They’re dragging my family’s name through the mud and hounding our hotels, our corporate offices, our personal lines.” As if on cue, his office phone rang with a shrill noise. He ignored it. “The article just went live, and it’s already started.”
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with harassment, but that’s a National Star issue,” I said calmly. “I didn’t leak those photos to them, nor did I have anything to do with their most recent publication.”
The one where they revealed that Isabella was an heiress to the Hiraya Hotels fortune.
I’d been so incandescent over the disgusting lies that I’d overlooked the bombshell. Now, the realization over Isabella’s identity sank in with diamond clarity.
Why had she kept it a secret? Did her friends know the truth, and I was the only one in the dark?
Unease formed a knot in my chest.
“Perhaps not, but she wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you,” Gabriel said. “We’ve never met, but I know your reputation. I thought you were above taking advantage of your employees.”
My jaw tightened. This was the third time my character had been called into question today, and I was getting damn sick of it.
“I didn’t take advantage of her,” I said coldly. “It was a consensual relationship. I have never coerced a woman into doing anything they didn’t want to.”
“Was or is?”
I paused. I didn’t know how Isabella wanted to handle things with her family, but my silence was answer enough.
Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “She’s dated men like you before,” he said. “Rich, charming, used to getting what they want. Happy to keep her a secret until shit hits the fan. Isabella seems tough, but she’s a romantic at heart, and as her brother, it’s my job to protect her, including from herself. She has a habit of making bad decisions.”
My hand closed around the edge of my armrest. Punching my girlfriend’s brother in the face probably wasn’t the best move, but I hated how he infantilized her. She might’ve kept secrets from me, but after meeting
Gabriel, I could understand why. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I was related to him either.
“She’s an adult.” I strove for calm. “Her decisions, good or bad, are her own. You don’t have any right interfering in her life.”
“I didn’t before and look what happened. That mess with Easton. Getting fired from Valhalla. Getting involved with you.” Gabriel drummed his fingers on his desk. “Do you want to explain to me why you—the Young heir—are running around New York City with my little sister when you could have any woman you want?”
Because she’s beautiful, smart and funny. Because seeing her smile is like watching the sun rise, and being with her is the only time I feel alive. No other woman compares.
“The fact you have to ask,” I said quietly, “proves how much you undervalue her.”
I caught the briefest glimpse of surprise before Gabriel’s expression shuttered again. “You might think you’re different from the other men, but you’re not,” he said. “Stay away from Isabella. She doesn’t need another opportunistic asshole ruining her life. This is your first and last warning.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked pleasantly.
His cool expression matched mine. “You’ll find out what happens soon enough.”
The threat barely touched me. Gabriel could try to browbeat me all he wanted, but I’d dealt with much worse than overprotective brothers. If Isabella wanted me gone, she’d tell me herself. She didn’t need other people fighting her personal battles for her.
However, one thing Gabriel said stuck with me through the rest of the afternoon and well into the night.
Who the hell is Easton?
