Mister Van Doren (CEOs of Kink #1)

Chapter 1

AUDEN

Everyone plays favorites. They’re lying to you if they tell you otherwise. A parent with seven kids certainly has a favorite. A person with seven dogs absolutely has a favorite. Unless those dogs are massive wolves taken right out of history. Then you’re wise not to have a favorite.

I have many favorites. For instance, my favorite office is in northern Oregon, close to my estate.

I built this office specifically as a final hurrah.

The first is never perfect. The first baby is always an experiment with trial and error.

I built it in Flagstaff, close to my cousin Jalon in case I needed a bailout from failure.

Using the successes and missteps with office one, I built office two in Southern L.A. I thought, if I were going to make it anywhere, L.A. was going to be the true test of time. I also had all the richie-rich of Hollywood right there at my door. Could I attract them to me?

Putting the Van Doren name on my building assured I could.

Still, there were more trials and errors, but by the time I was ready for my third and final building, I knew exactly what I needed to do.

Thus, my favorite office. My favorite branch of the Van Doren Group—the financial advisors of the wealthy and famous.

Also, the moderately wealthy and famous.

It may say Van Doren Group on the building, but it’s not part of Van Doren Technologies.

I own my business outright. It will be folded into the VDT when I’m ready to retire, but for now, it’s mine alone.

I’m wealthy on my own. Without the Van Doren money, which I’ve funneled all to my only son. He doesn’t know that, of course. He’s settled down now, but he doesn’t appreciate kind gestures of that magnitude. We’re in a good place these days, and I’m not in a hurry to change that.

My favorite office is in Oregon. Oregon is also my favorite state because it’s close to those good Canadians, eh.

And because I have several hundred acres of untouched land in my possession, right outside my door.

It’s real forest. Not the crap that Jalon has in Arizona.

How is it still dry as fuck in a forest?

Speaking of Jalon, he’s only my second favorite cousin. Don’t tell him. It doesn’t do good things for his kingly ego. The thought makes me grin.

My favorite cousin, Rome, comes strolling through my open office door as if he owns the place. Perhaps thinking about him being my favorite has him visiting; his ears were ringing.

Rome runs the real estate branch of Van Doren Technologies. In the past ten years, he’s opened almost a hundred offices worldwide. He’s stepped back and now his son, Rome the Fourth, has taken over the daily operations of overseeing the real estate empire.

“Hey, playboy,” Rome greets as he lets the door shut behind him and takes a seat in the chair facing me.

“Hmm,” I respond. “What brings you around?”

Rome shakes his head. “Kiddy had a meeting with Jalon and asked that I sit in on it.”

“Oh? Everything okay?”

“Yep. Jalon makes him nervous.” He chuckles.

I shake my head. “If you bring that boy around to the estate when Jalon isn’t hosting seventy-five of his closest relatives during the holidays, he could see that Jalon is a human and not the untouchable entity the world thinks he is.”

Jalon is the oldest son of the five sons of my uncle Weston. Van Doren Technologies has always followed a single line, though not necessarily the oldest. Weston wasn’t the oldest kid of Grandma Poppy’s. Grandma Poppy wasn’t the oldest kid of her generation.

It just happened that Jalon is the oldest. Considering his next oldest sibling is fourteen years younger than him, it makes a lot of sense that Jalon took over.

What no one saw coming was that Van Doren went from a mid-level wealthy family, who did fairly well in the few industries we were involved in, to what Jalon has turned it into.

Over the past thirty years, since Jalon took over, Van Doren has become a powerhouse. There are tentacles in every industry around the globe. We could be our own sovereign state at this rate. And it’s all due to Jalon’s determination to provide a future for his family.

There’s no surprise that Rome’s son regards him like a divinity. There’s only a single person born every generation who can possibly see the kind of growth and influence that Jalon has accomplished. All while being a good dad to his six kids and he’s pretty down to earth as well. He’s a good man.

Wealth can make you a dick. It can make you hateful.

It can make you think that you should be able to influence law and public opinion.

When we were in our thirties, Jalon once said to me, “You can identify a good person by what they do with their money. If they use it to hurt other people, they’re shit.

I choose to use the physicians’ moral compass—do no harm. ”

Jalon has said many quotable things over the years. Just ask the media. They love to quote him. But this one thing, said in private between us, has stuck with me for almost two decades. If you use your wealth to hurt people, you’re a shitty person.

It makes what we do a little morally gray.

Rome shrugs. “Maybe. Then again, my boy still needs me from time to time.”

I snort. Our kids are about the same age. Rhodes, my son, is thirty-one. Rome the Fourth is twenty-eight. They couldn’t be more different if they tried.

A knock on my door has us both look up.

“Enter,” I call.

Cynthia pokes her head in shyly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Van Doren. You expressed the importance of this report.” She holds up a file in her hands.

I incline my head and get to my feet to retrieve it from her. “Thank you, Cynthia.”

She smiles. “Have a good evening, Misters Van Doren.” Her smile is directed at Rome for a moment before she backs out, and the door quietly closes behind her.

On my way back to my desk, I peruse the top few papers with the summary numbers. Hmm. Might need some adjustments if the stock market keeps wildly fluctuating like this.

I drop the envelope on my desk as my ass hits the chair again. Rome is watching me with amusement.

“What?”

“First, you damn dinosaur. Why are you still using paper?”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “Honestly? No fucking idea. The report is also in a cloud folder for me to retrieve. It seems that if I don’t have it in my hand, I can’t remember to look it up.”

He sighs in exasperation. “Second, you didn’t even look at her.”

I frown. “Of course, I did. I make eye-contact with all my employees.”

“No, Auden. I mean, you didn’t look at her. What’s up with you?”

“I have two rules. One, I don’t sleep with anyone I employ. Second, I bring my own protection. No one touches it but me, from pulling it out of my pocket to tying my load inside and discarding it.”

“Good to know. Thanks. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look.”

“I leave nothing I do open for interpretation at work, Rome.”

He sighs. “Seriously, Auden. What’s up with you? What’s with the dry spell? You lose your mojo?”

Rolling my eyes, I twist in my chair to look out the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window behind me. My view overlooks the city and parks with uninterrupted views. It’s beautiful.

“The truth?” I ask.

I hear his eye roll at my question. “Obviously.”

“I thought my kid was embarrassed by me,” I admit.

From my teenage years, I’ve been known for my many partners. Every month, sometimes weekly, my partner changes. For more than forty years, this was my life, and I enjoyed it.

“What?” Rome asks.

Sighing, I shake my head. “I’m not offended by what people call me. Hoe. Slut. Player.” I shrug. “I enjoy my life. What I’m doing doesn’t hurt the pearl-clutchers, so they can go take their judgmental souls to hell and let me be. Others’ words and opinions don’t bother me.”

“I know.”

“I always thought Rhodes was… annoyed. Maybe irritated by my constantly rotating door. Eighteen months ago, he made a comment—not out of the ordinary, mind you—but something in his words made me think that maybe my son is embarrassed by me and how I behave. We’ve always had a somewhat…

I don’t know, tense, maybe? Not the best relationship, and something about what he said made me think that that’s why. ”

“Auden—”

I wave him off. “We’ve talked since then. We’re good. We’re in a much better place than we’ve ever been, but I don’t know. Now I’m just uninterested, I guess.”

“Maybe it’s time to try something new. Settle down.”

I spin back around in my chair and meet Rome’s eyes. I’m not sure what he sees on my face, but he bursts out laughing.

“Speaking of Rhodes,” I say and hit the lock button on my computer. “I should head home. He’s probably finishing up soon.”

Rome and I get to our feet. I’m not surprised when he gives me a bear hug. I chuckle but accept it. Maybe I miss affection a little bit.

“Don’t say anything else,” I warn as he takes a step back. “I’m not unhappy. I suppose I’m just bored with my options.”

“You’re getting old,” he says, and I shove him toward the door, making Rome laugh again. “I’m just saying. Would it be awful to settle down?”

“And wake up to the same person every single day?” I pretend to shudder. “Get out of my office with that crap.”

Rome is still chuckling as I follow him out.

I wave to Cynthia on my way by. In the parking lot, we go our separate ways.

There isn’t any assigned parking at my office.

No designated spaces. I make it a point to never park in the same spot every day.

While this isn’t King Arthur’s Round Table, I don’t like to pay special favors.

Not even for my favorite employee.

I live about twenty miles from my office. It’s a little far to commute, but I also have the freedom of working from home whenever I want. As I told Rome, everything is online. I’m just old school and like to have something tangible in my hands.

The last three miles of my drive are through the trees.

My house is hidden deep within my own personal forest. I’m not going to call it a mansion.

Nothing is a mansion when I think about Jalon’s house.

But it’s far bigger than I’ll ever need.

What else am I going to do with my money but have a big house?

There are other buildings on the property, of course. A handful of cabins are scattered throughout, some closer than others. Even though I have half a dozen bedrooms in my house, I like my privacy, so there are always options.

As soon as I step out of my car, I hear the howling of wolves in the trees. I pause, listening to them get louder. These aren’t wild wolves. They’re Rhodes’ wolves. I never hear them howl and carry on like this. Not in this tenor.

A trickle of fear moves through my body. There’s no way my son is hurt. His pack wouldn’t allow that. Not a chance. While I try to take comfort in that thought, one of his wolves comes into view, and he’s covered in blood.

The world shifts under me, and I sway. There can’t be something wrong with my kid. That’s not possible!

The wolf dog sees me and comes racing toward me. That in itself is terrifying all on its own. You don’t want an animal built to kill running at you covered in blood. He stops and circles me, not so subtly nudging me into the trees.

“Come on,” I tell him. “Show me where my son is.”

We don’t have to go far. It isn’t long before I find Rhodes. He’s not the one bleeding. His boyfriend is, but not from being mauled by the pack.

“Dad,” Rhodes says, and I can hear the tremor in his voice. A sound I’ve never heard in all his thirty-one years. “He’s hurt, Dad.”