Chapter2
James preferred driving alone, without the need for a chauffeur or the stereotype of having a female in the passenger’s seat. It was a leisurely hour-long drive back to his palatial estate, where he lived alone—just the way he liked it. It was not that he detested company, but he found himself engaging in conversations with random people, all for the simple fact that he found it interesting, and it was not part of his routine life.
It takes 21 days to make a habit, he had told himself, and it took him 21 years to take back the company that was rightfully his. Douglas LTD was one of the country’s foremost real estate conglomerates, and it had been a vicious struggle that had ended with a sweet victory.
Driving home alone gave him time to reflect about his working day and to think about strategies to beat competition down. He had wanted Douglas LTD to be the foremost, and not among the throng. Had it only been that long? His mother had died at a young age, and while he had comforts that most of his generation would kill for, he had told himself over and over again that it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough, not even relationships. He passed by edifice after edifice, hungry for more properties to own. He smiled as he drove past them, though, pleased with his acquisitions in the few years he had begun to helm the company. James saw a small coffee shop and thought of Aliya. It was the first time he had ever met anyone named Aliya. She was a fairly interesting person, guarded, of course, and quite attractive, although not as attractive as his frequent dates.
She didn’t take the money. She was either putting up a brave face or she was being stupid; and if she had a scholarship, she was no dumb lady. Dentistry, huh? His interest in her piqued so much so that he thought about her sporadically for the rest of the afternoon. He was focused, and barely allowed his mind to wander, but still. It was quite easy sweeping thoughts of her away, though. People were either distractions or tools. Which one would she be?
His bevy of dates were distractions; none would tantamount to how important work was. His mother had left him with strong words and a desire to be the best, and if there was someone else better, all he had to do was find ways to eliminate them.
James knew he hadn’t had the best of childhoods, and he was labeled more than once as the ‘poor little rich boy’ back then. He had set to prove them wrong. As soon as he came of age, he acted quick.
He arrived at his manse, hearing the waves crash onto the shore. The beach was only a minute’s walk away, and he often took to walking when he couldn’t sleep. The lights from all the mansions lining beside the beach paved the way for a tranquil walk at night.
James dropped his car keys into a hand-carved wooden bowl, and there was a silver framed photo of him as a five-year-old, with his mother hugging him from behind. His mother had been happy once, until his father could no longer resist the call of adultery, shacking in with his secretary and producing three more children, all of whom had stakes in the company…
“Sir,” a woman’s voice interrupted him.
He looked up to see his maid of over ten years, along with two other maids under her guidance. “Ah, Luisa, will you be off now? Thank you for taking care of the house while I was away.”
“Pleasure’s all ours, sir.”
“Your fees have been wired. Kindly contact Denver if you have problems.”
“Certainly, sir.”
He waited for the maids to exit through the front door, pleased that Luisa had always been so efficient. It was no wonder that his mother couldn’t live without their trusted help. He could leave this house for days on end, and Luisa wouldn’t steal a thing, no matter how expensive the objects were inside this house.
This house… he thought, looking around, suddenly feeling alien. It had only been two days, but coming back always meant something to him. He had fought for this property; he had fought for the memories of his childhood. He hadn’t always lived here. The house had remained empty for years. His mother, Deborah, had run away with him in tow, eager to escape paparazzi and the hounding pain of betrayal.
Deborah had been a gifted actress before she’d faded into obscurity after the high-profile separation. She had never divorced her husband, and was entitled to the majority of the shares of Douglas LTD. There was no prenup agreement between her and Winston, and she had seen that it remained that way, all for James’ future.
His mother had passed away back when he was still in high school, and he learned early on to rely only on himself, and use other people to survive. It was not a cruel tactic, but it was necessary to survive. He employed this tactic until now, and he could easily discard people if he was displeased with the outcome.
He was careful with appearances though, and the discarding of people was orchestrated to the point that he made it look like it was their fault. He knew it was part of his ego as CEO (one of the country’s youngest real estate company presidents); he reveled in it, and he wanted it to be a lasting legacy.
His dates didn’t last very long, though, and he always found himself dating celebrities—all for show. Talking to a non-celebrity female like Aliya was always a breather. They were more down to earth, sincerer, and he preferred they didn’t know him well. Money changes things, and most importantly, money changes people; his mother had told him before.
He had graciously given his half-siblings minority shares in the company instead of buying them all out and reducing their income. He didn’t want that. He had been through that before, and he hated the feeling of the ‘poverty’ his mother had claimed.
James had escaped from his parents’ frequent fighting through reading and surfing, and was happy he was sent to boarding school at the age of seven. Seeing both parents sporadically saved what remained of his sanity.
Don’t ever forget what they did to you, he had told his seven-year-old self, never forget.
*
“So, what’s the lowdown?” her friend pressed on.
“There is no lowdown, Kimmy,” Aliya said with a laugh. “I was just telling you it was the weirdest lunch I’ve ever had.”
“Of course it was gonna be weird; it was some random stranger. And you left out details. Was he hot or not?”
Aliya paused for a moment. Was he hot? Hot was an understatement; he was a mix of hot and cold, aloof and kind—he had many things happening all at once, and it showed in the tiniest mannerisms. It showed in his smirk, his eyes—god, those eyes. They were a steely gray and blue, intelligent and observant. He had wonderful teeth, probably spent a fortune on it. Even his nails were clean. The man was a walking hunk of—
“Hello?” Kimmy said.
Aliya took a breath. “He was okay.”
“Oh,” Kimmy said, sounding disappointed.
“The weird thing was and still is—he insisted paying me for taking me out to lunch.”
“Like a ho!” Kimmy chuckled.
“Seriously, girl?” Aliya pursed her lips, forcing herself to think of it lightly. “I do not dress as provocatively as—”
“Please don’t say me,” Kimmy breathed out, laughing.
“Come on, of course not you! Someone else, geez!” Aliya said, exasperated.
“Okay, back to the topic. Seriously? You went out for lunch, and he wasn’t even cute. I hope his parts were big enough.”
They both burst into laughter.
“You know I’m never DTF on the first date,” Aliya said in between gasps. “Besides, it’s been too long since someone treated me out for a nice lunch.”
“Yes, yes. Ex-boyfriend of a year. He was and still is a douchebag,” Kimmy said in her valley girl accent. “Oh shoot, I have to get back to class. Talk to you later, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” Aliya said with a laugh. Typical of Kimberly Dawson to skip a few minutes of class to talk to her or to anyone she deemed important enough.
Aliya sighed, putting her battered-looking iPhone down. It was three models too late, but she had no interest in replacing it, as long as it worked fine, she got texts and calls, and she could download files and apps she needed to aid her in studies. It had been a mere three hours after that strange lunch ‘date,’ and it still made her feel uneasy—and curious. Who was he? How come she didn’t know anything about him?
She shook her head, telling herself she was going to get nothing out of it, that it was going to be a funny story to tell months or even years from now to her friends. Aliya forced herself to concentrate on reading her notes, knowing there was going to be a test on Monday. Her notes were neat, bullet points abounded, along with the occasional scribbles.
Aliya didn’t enjoy studying for exams and preferred the pleasure of leisurely reading. Her scholarship was still at stake, and this was her greatest motivation. Free tuition was free tuition, and she intended for it to stay that way until her final year in dentistry.
Pausing once in a while from studying, her eyes lingered on a photo of her family, Aliya being embraced by both parents, her brothers embracing their parents as well. It had been years ago, back when her brothers were still running on their mother’s cooking and baking and not on cases and reports.
Had it been that long? She smiled, remembering her mother’s last call, if she was eating well enough and when she planned to come home for vacation. Pensacola was an hour and forty-five minutes away by plane, and she always told her mother she would only go home for the most special of occasions, which included everyone’s birthday. That was a good enough bargain. She needed to save, anyhow.
If I had taken the thousand dollars, however, I could have gone home… She stopped herself, unable to believe she had considered it now, considered it too late. She still found it hard to believe that he actually paid people… it was all for show, she told herself. His image was to be one of those honorably magnanimous people who enjoyed wasting money—whether achieved through honest or suspicious means.
James Warren Douglas didn’t look like any mafia man’s son. He didn’t look like any two-bit gangster either. She was tempted to google his name, but decided against it. It would only amplify the idea that her interest in him had only grown.
Concentrate on the test, concentrate on the test, she told herself. But at the back of her mind, his face lingered.
*
God, these idiots, he thought to himself, listening to the meeting commence. Why did his father hire these people again? They were qualified, but barely. If he didn’t have any respect for seniority, he’d have fired out all of them. Still, he nodded, hoping his secretary was taking detailed notes, as he paid her well enough to just sit down, listen, make his coffee, and book his flights, as well as answer the phone.
“Excuse me, but where are we going with this?” he interrupted the man in front of him, pleasantly.
“Well, like I said James, this purchase will improve our overall—”
“Yes, I saw the figures, but what happened to the proposed fifteen-hectare lot? Why are we containing ourselves with just twelve?”
“Well, as per email, certain problems arose with the adjacent lot owner.”
“I thought I had an agreement with this adjacent lot owner,” James said testily. He could see the balding man across from him mop his forehead with a handkerchief. He shook his head, knowing this was a waste of time. “Kindly convene with me, and not behind my back,” he added. “I put faith in you all to help me run the company that my grandfather built.”
He saw the others in the room nod. Actually, all of the fourteen board members nodded. James closed his eyes for a moment. “Can we take a moment to relax? This meeting’s been going on for two hours, and it’s too long in my opinion.” He looked at his Patek Philippe watch. “Give ourselves thirty minutes, shall we?”
The rest of the people nodded their agreement, and James cricked his neck as soon as they all filtered out of the board room. He eyed his secretary, and she immediately straightened in her chair. “Well?”
She showed him her stenograph notes, and he nodded in satisfaction. “This will do, Betsy. Thanks. Go on a break; you’ll need it for later.”
It was clear they still wanted him out of the company, preferring to put in some puppet CEO for the time being, while they scrambled for a suitable and controllable CEO. The joke was on them, he thought. He had bought the majority of the shares at the age of 22, something even his father couldn’t achieve in youth.
He had learned early on, after being extensively bullied in prep school. It was there that he learned to fight back using his mind; fists came in second if reasoning failed. Of course, he couldn’t very well engage in a boxing match with the idiots and traitors that still worked for him. He had crafted a lovely retirement package for most of his father’s cohorts, and it was either his way or the highway.
James walked to the window, enjoying the view that this building gave him. He didn’t have all the floors occupied with Douglas LTD, but his offices were sizeable and had a panoramic view of the beach. He walked to his office, down the hall, as the sun shone on his hair and face.
A newly hired employee couldn’t hide her stare. They were all right when they said that he was a looker. Wasn’t it unfair that someone could be so good-looking, rich, and nice, all at the same time? He looked strict, but she wondered if that was really his persona…
He walked into his office, which had an even better view of the cityscape. The sun shone high, and he could see women in their bikinis, parading themselves for all the world to see. He could see guys and their buffed-out bodies, carrying surfboards or footballs; he fought the urge to rip off his clothes to join them for an afternoon of Saturday relaxation.
Would Aliya Jones be somewhere there?
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a noise come from the hallway. It was Betsy’s muffled and apologetic voice. “Please sir, maybe this afternoon. I’ll tell Mr. Douglas that—”
The doors to his office burst open, and he saw his livid younger half-brother and, behind him, Betsy. Her face looked strained, but James simply nodded, knowing none of this was her fault.
“Betsy, kindly bring Mark a cup of freshly brewed coffee. You preferred your beans Colombian, am I correct?”
Mark was silent, breathing in and out, waiting for the secretary to exit. As soon as the door closed behind him, Mark took a step forward. “You deliberately cut us off,” he seethed.
“Are you hungover?” James retorted.
“I expected a share of 10% from last quarter’s profits.”
“That was your 10%, tax cuts included,” James replied. “You can check with the general accountant if you wish to dispute this.”
“How am I supposed to survive on $200,000 in the next three months? You know there’s four of us, including Mom—”
James felt heat rise within him, and he was tempted to say something unprofessional, but he fought back the bile rising in him. “$200,000 is more than enough. You don’t spend for your younger brothers’ tuitions in college; I do. What else do you need the money for? The house you’re in is also under the stipend of the company. Groceries? Gasoline? Don’t you charge these all to the company as well?”
Mark bit his lower lip for a second. He shook his head. “You’re taking this out on us. Mom had nothing to do with your parents separating—”
“The past is the past, Mark. Have you not learned that yet? Or has gambling and women clouded your reasoning?” James made a mental note to cut down Mark’s credit limit. The expenses were not a problem, but Mark didn’t work for it, and it irritated James.
Mark opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say anything.
“Which one is it?” James asked him calmly. “You barely do anything while you’re here, and yet you have the audacity to complain about your shares, which were painstakingly accounted for by the company’s bookkeepers.”
“If Dad were here—”
“He’s no longer here. I’m in charge, and while I’m alive, you best abide by the company’s rules and regulations. These aren’t guidelines, Mark; they’re rules. People put their trust in this company. This company’s been operating for over eighty years. Your attitude won’t be needed if you keep up like this. Any other interjections?”
Mark was silent, and he stared at his older brother. A mere two years separated them, a mere two years separated his birthright to Douglas LTD. “I want further control, and I’ll have it.”
“See if you can buy stocks,” James offered.
Without another word, Mark spun around, just as Betsy opened the door, bringing in a brass wheeled cart with a fresh pot of brewed coffee. Mark stormed out, nearly knocking over the cart. James took a deep, inaudible breath.
“That smells lovely, Betsy. Kindly leave it by the door. Thanks,” he told her with a quick smile. Rage filled him as soon as he was alone again.
“You’re taking this out on us. Mom had nothing to do with your parents separating—”
It was as if he could still hear Mark’s voice. He was only older than Mark by two years, and those two years had meant a lot to James. He had been that young when his own father decided to cheat on his wife, who had thought the world of him, who had quit her acting career to be a full-time housewife because James Warren Douglas III had wanted it.
If only his mother were still alive to hear him say those things, to see him do things that would have made her smile. She had died hating her husband’s mistress and thinking James had been cut off from the company entirely. Apparently, his grandfather had other plans for him, bless his soul.
He took a sip of coffee, enjoying the aroma but not the taste. It tasted as bitter as his younger half-brother’s poor manners. How was his slut of a mother, anyhow? He didn’t really care, but he knew it was that woman’s influence that caused Mark to complain of how unfair his shares were. Not what he expected? The bastard barely worked…
This was life; this was how things were now. He micromanaged, and he macromanaged, even if he knew it was too taxing, both mentally and physically. He had begun the process of interviewing people to do that job for him, and as long as he had control over them, he would have no trouble sleeping at all.