Ruthless Mogul

The CEO – Dante

THE CEO

DANTE

Being a “billionaire” was supposed to mean that I was entitled to buy whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

No price tag was too large, no budget was ever too much to consider, and the words “I want it” meant sold.

Period.

For years, I’d used my status to stamp my name all over this city. It sat on everything from the sleek skyscrapers that gleamed against the Hudson River’s waters, to the glittering glass condos that dotted Manhattan, and even the high-rise apartments that stood guard in Brooklyn and The Bronx.

And yet, the building I wanted the most—the one that I’d offered quadruple the asking price to buy—was being held hostage by protesters and city officials who hated me.

For no reason.

Well, no “good” reason.

“Mr. Hudson Is Too Damn Rich! He Can Eat a Bag of Dicks!” a deranged woman shouted into a megaphone as I stepped out of my car.

“Hey! Hey! Not Today!” her psycho colleague joined her. “The Holden Building Is Here to Stay!”

Usually, I would sip my coffee and stare at them while they screamed—letting them get a hint of satisfaction at me “listening” to them, but I didn’t have time today.

Moving past their signs, I strolled into my building and headed for the elevator.

“How long do you want to let them protest before we call the police today, Mr. Hudson?” my head security guard asked.

“You can give them five more minutes.”

“Are you pressing charges for trespassing?”

“Always.” I nodded. “Be sure to send the judge a gift in my name as well.”

“Very well, sir.”

The doors glided shut before the elevator carried me to my top floor.

I headed into the boardroom, anxious for this morning’s strategy meeting with my top assistants, highest-selling real estate agents, and the top person I trusted in my company: my executive broker, Anthony.

Taking a seat at the head of the table, I flipped open a brand-new folder titled “Ways to Make People Love Dante Hudson So He Can Buy The Holden.”

“Word of advice before we get started, Dante…” Anthony leaned closer. “Thank them for their hard work before storming off, and don’t threaten to fire them at the end.”

“If they give me some good ideas and suggestions, I won’t.” I adjusted my tie. “Making me look good is an easy job, trust me. I’ve looked in the mirror.”

“It would be easy if people in this city didn’t hate you,” he said. “They cannot stand you.”

“Lies.” I shook my head. “They admire me.”

“Your money, maybe, but that’s it. You are literally despised.”

“That won’t last long.” I waved a hand and cleared my throat. “I’m listening. Give me the ideas.”

“Well…” Alisha, the head of my luxury rental buildings, stood up from her seat. “We’ve all agreed that while your current persona may lean on the more ruthless and uh, evil billionaire side, we can correct that with some good ol’ community service from you.”

I arched a brow.

“We’re thinking that you could help the landscaping team plant some new flowers at all the parks you own.” She smiled. “Perhaps you can do that once a month.”

“No. Hell no.”

“It’s a good idea,” Anthony whispered. “It’ll make you look human.”

“I pay people to do my landscaping for a reason.” I rolled my eyes. “Next idea.”

“You could help clean up the lobby at one of the mid-tier complexes,” Alisha’s voice wavered. “We could make it a photo opportunity to show how much you care about everything in your portfolio.”

“I say ‘no’ to gardening, but you think I’ll say yes to scrubbing toilets?”

Her face paled and she looked around the room.

“What else?” I glared at her. “What are the other ideas that will make me come off less ruthless and more ‘let me buy The Holden?’”

“There’s also the idea of you giving all your tenants a few free months of rent?” Her voice was faint. “Everyone would run wild with how generous you are if you did that.”

“If I let people get away with not paying rent, how do I make money?”

“Well, you won’t…but just for like three months.”

“Then how about everyone in this room surrenders their paychecks instead?”

The room fell silent.

“These are the ideas you’ve been working on for weeks?” I felt my blood simmering. “This is it?”

“We’re working very hard, sir.”

“This meeting is over.” I stood up. “You all need to start looking for new jobs by the end of the week.”

I left the room and felt Anthony rushing after me.

“You literally did the exact opposite of what I suggested, Dante.” He groaned. “It’s not their fault you have a terrible reputation.”

“I just want to buy a goddamn building,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to do circus tricks to write a check.”

“I agree,” he said, sighing. “But if your heart is set on The Holden, you can start by being a bit nicer to everyone around you. You should also meet with the mayor again.”

“I’m not sucking up to him,” I said. “If he doesn’t want to sell it to me—”

“He doesn’t, Dante.” He narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t want your name on it at all.”

“I’ll send him a gift basket.”

“That’s a start.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll go tell the team to try again.”

“Thank you.” I made my way down the hall, ready to call this day a loss already.

When I made it to my office, my favorite assistant Stacy was pacing near my windows.

“Give me some good news.” I sat at my desk. “Only good news.”

“You have someone who wants to tour your exclusive penthouse suite at The Bergman.”

“That is very good news.” I smiled. “How serious is the client?”

“Very serious.” She stepped closer, handing me a folder. “His name is Bryan Fleming. I looked into his financials and he can definitely afford it.”

“You said that with the last guy, and he wasn’t a prince from Nigeria like he claimed.”

“That one wasn’t my fault.”

“The eight ones before were…” I flipped through the pages, not wanting to get optimistic at all.

At seventy million dollars, this was the most expensive condo in my collection, and it received constant attention from realtors and tours.

But no one was willing to buy.

“He claims he’s the CFO at Parker Hotels?” I looked at her. “Did you check the website?”

“I personally called the CEO and he verified it.”

“What about—”

“I called our special insiders at every bank he listed, looked into every car he owns, and yes—he already owns a couple of multi-million-dollar listings.” She crossed her arms. “I did my complete due diligence.”

“Would you stake your life on it?”

“Ha! No.” She shook her head. “I would stake yours, though.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“He’s flying into town this afternoon.” She dodged the subject. “Can I confirm the tour?”

“Sure.”

“Well, wait. Before I do that…” She tapped her lip. “I need permission to spend the rest of the morning there to make sure it’s as picture-perfect as it can possibly be.”

“Call the housekeeping director and ask him to handle that.”

“He’s the one who suggested it,” she said. “He mentioned that someone keeps messing up the master bedroom and bathroom every few days, and it’s not his staff.”

“Mess up how?”

“Just by leaving the floors wet, placing the dishes in the wrong places, and creating wrinkles in the bedspread,” she said. “It’s driving the cleaners mental, and they think it’s paranormal activity.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I think it’s ghosts, too,” she said. “They’re probably serving up the karma you deserve for being so cold and heartless all these years…”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “I could use some air, so I’ll look into things myself,” I said. “Tell Mr. Fleming that he will get a personal tour from me whenever he arrives.”