Her Sweet Liberation: Billionaire Secrets - Book Six

  Her Sweet Liberation

  The Billionaire Secrets Series - Volume Six

  Copyright © 2014 by Drew Sinclair

  First Printing, 2014

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Start Reading Her Sweet Liberation - Billionaire Secrets Vol Six

  Other Books by Drew Sinclair

  Sample Chapter: Scandalous - The Scandalous Billionaires Collection

  About Drew

  Connect with Drew

  Acknowledgements

  I bow down before those who have gone before me. I thank my discerning readership who make all of this craziness possible.

  Chapter One

  Reading the bedtime story to Nena at Disney World had been haunting Dale's mind for days and no matter how hard he thought about it he couldn't seem to understand why it was making him feel so uncomfortable. When the little girl had finally drifted off to sleep Lindsay had asked him to leave the apartment and he had complied. He was still determined to keep her story from the lurid eyes of public but he was sure he could do it without being either so crass as to wrestle her recording device from her or to demand that she hand it over before allowing her to leave the hotel.

  This meant of course, that he would have to put plan B into action, but that was what backup plans were for.

  He turned his gaze to Marco again and read the man in an instant. Lindsay's boss was visibly perspiring as he struggled to make his decision. Dale knew that all he had to do was turn the heat up another notch or two and the deal would be done. Marco was small fry; an idealist without an ounce of business acumen or negotiating skill. Put his business on the line and idealism would soon fly out the window. It always did.

  "It's decision time Marco." He said coldly. "I've been waiting for three days now. You're deadline was 12pm today and it's now 11.59. So what's it going to be?"

  Marco looked back at the bear of a man confronting him in his own office space. He should have been the boss here but this Dale Hargrave asshole behaved as if he owned the place. The slick billionaire was everything he hated about the corporate world; crass, selfish and amoral. Above all, the guy was an arrogant, bullying dick.

  He did however, have enough money to solve all of his company's financial woes with little more than a wave of his manicured hand.

  "There can be no question of compromising the news." Marco said. "Otherwise what's the point of even running a news media company."

  Dale was offering to bale him and his crowd-funded, deeply in debt, rapidly failing company out. All debts would be resolved, there would be liquidity, cash flow problems would vanish and the investigative work of his people could continue undisturbed by financial concerns. Hell, he wouldn't even have to miss that car payment that was threatening to leave him using the bus to get to work.

  Dale smiled.

  "There's no such thing as uncompromised news Marco. I'm not a journalism major but even I know that. Right now it's the banks who have you by the balls and for what? So that you can end up filing Chapter 11 and laying off all of your staff? What happens to the news then?"

  "Things aren’t that bad Hargrave. In fact, we're working on a couple of big stories right now that will solve all of our short-term problems."

  Dale laughed out loud.

  "Marco, don’t bullshit me because trust me, you don’t even begin to know how. News is your strong point, not business and certainly not bluffing. If you accept this offer of shared ownership then you can go back to doing what you do best - investigating and writing the news. Then all those hardworking people who depend on AltNews to pay their bills will get not only get to keep their jobs but they'll also get the employee benefits that they deserve for the work they do. You'll be the most impartial and independent news source out there. And you'll get to keep your car."

  Marco sighed. Dale Hargrave was exactly the asshole he couldn’t stand, not only because they thought they were right about everything but because most of the time they actually were. He knew he wasn't good at this hardball stuff and it was probably the reason his company had been struggling since the day it began. No matter what he did the business just went deeper and deeper into debt.

  "So what's the catch?" He said. "I'm not a business major but even I know there's no such thing as a free lunch, not even from a billionaire with more money to burn than half the small nations in the UN."

  Dale resisted smiling. Wins like this were commonplace for him but for some reason this was all the sweeter. That sexy little minx thought she had outsmarted him, but he would see her on her back again soon.

  "There's no catch Marco. None at all. Everything is up to your discretion which I will trust unconditionally."

  Marco shook his head.

  "There's always a catch Hargrave. Unless I know what it is up front then it's no deal."

  "You're trying my patience Marco. I told you there's no catch, but let me illustrate to you what I understand by the word discretion. Imagine for a moment that one of your young reporters decided to publish groundless allegations regarding a prominent business family. Would you allow that to happen?"

  "If the allegations have no basis in fact then no, of course not."

  "Good. Then we're on the same page. Now imagine that this same reporter, desperate for a story, had gained personal access to a member of that family and made secret recordings of conversations between them. Would you condone that?"

  "It depends what the story was."

  "Would you condone your reporter getting into bed with her source and fucking him in order to get her story?"

  Dale watched Marco dispassionately. His people had informed him of their suspicions regarding Marco's emotional attachment to Lindsay. What better way to mess with the guys head than to reveal this harsh reality to him. Dale could live with her ruthless actions, he was used to people bending the rules to get what they wanted, but what about this guy and his idealistic world view of absolute right and wrong?

  "I wouldn't condone that at all." Marco said in a low, shaky voice. "And most of all I wouldn’t believe it."

  "Well you better believe it Marco. Trust me, in my world it's not that uncommon for women to go these lengths to get what they want. Now let's say, for arguments sake, that this business figure went off record and told this reporter whatever he thought she wanted to hear just to keep her hot, do you really think that kind of talk constitutes evidence of any kind?"

  "Of course not. AltNews isn't involved in blogosphere gossip. We reveal important and relevant news, always backed up by hard evidence."

  "That's what I thought and I presume that's why none of that ridiculous pillow talk that Lindsay and I engaged has appeared on your little website in the last few days. That's what I call discretion and that’s what I'm talking about."

  Marco was bristling with anger, jealousy, hatred, but he was cornered and he knew it. For now at least.

  "Let me put it another way Marco. You don’t have jack on me or my fam
ily and you never will. And don't give me bullshit stories about revenue generating stories in the pipeline because you and your team wouldn't know how to generate revenue in the US mint."

  "Fuck you Hargrave."

  Dale smiled in response. The last resort of the totally outmatched; foul language.

  "I don't think so." He said. "Now let me be clear, if I rescue this sinking ship then what I expect in return is an immediate end to this campaign of groundless harassment against me and my family. If you don't accept my offer and decide to fight it out then make no mistake, you and your little media circus here will learn all about what it means to play with the big boys. Is that clear enough for you?"

  Marco was shaking. He was being fucked. That much he knew. He was being fucked by the asshole who had fucked the woman he loved. As far as his fevered brain could make out there were only two possible options here. Number one, flip over his desk and lunge at Hargrave's throat. Try to get a couple of good pops in before the far larger and more physical man overcame him. Number two, take the damn offer. Without a hope of ever being with Lindsay, what did anything really mean anymore? Maybe it had taken this for him to truly realize what she meant to him but it was all over now anyway. He could take the deal, save his business and then the first chance he got take this smug asshole down. Guys like him were always involved in shady stuff - insider deals, tax loopholes, sexual indiscretions - sooner or later he would get him whether he was bankrolling his business or not.

  "Okay boss." He said, immediately feeling himself become calm again. "It’s a deal. I take it this story is all you're really interested in so if you throw this money at me that's it. I don’t need to see your face around here anymore. Or will you be coming down here to veto stories on your corporate buddies, your government contracts or whatever the hell else it is want censored?"

  Dale smiled again.

  "My buddies and the government can look after themselves. However, there is one other thing I need from you."

  Marco rolled his eyes.

  "Of course there is. Shoot. What is it?"

  "Stay very, very far away from Lindsay and Nena."

  Now Marco smiled.

  "You've got this all wrong--"

  "Don’t lie to me. I know you're in love with her. That's why gave her this dead end job in your failed news experiment you call a business. You wanted to get her under your control but of course it didn’t work. Instead you put her and Nena in danger by allowing her to investigate Mikhail Boyevik and then me and my family. You're a pathetic little loser Marco and you don’t deserve even to be called a journalist. Remember that. If I allow this place to continue existing it's because of Lindsay and Nena, not because of you."

  Marco stood up and leaned across his messy desk, piled up with unopened correspondence, to glare at Dale.

  "Get the fuck out." He said. "Get out of here now. My answer is no. Assholes like you don’t control the news. There are some people in this world who can't be bought but people like you will never understand that."

  Dale nodded his head. He was surprised. Maybe the guy wasn’t quite the worm he had assumed him to be after all. Nevertheless he still had a goal to accomplish and this little show of misplaced integrity and backbone would be crushed out as suddenly as it had appeared. He reached into his pocket, took out an envelope and handed to the red faced, defiant Marco.

  "What the hell is this?" He said.

  Dale dropped it on the desk and then stood up, making ready to leave.

  "It's the terms of your new lease agreement. I suggest you read it and sign it. You have thirty days to comply or vacate the premises. I hope your company can survive a relocation at this difficult time. But I wouldn't count on it."

  "We have another eight months on our contract so you can shove this where--"

  "I'm the new owner of this real estate. You were sent notification but I presume its lost somewhere in this mess you call a desk." He look disdainfully down at Marco's cluttered workspace. "Trust me, the contract is water tight. If you change your mind however, here's my number." He tossed his card down into the chaos on Marco's desk.

  "Have a good day little guy." He left without a glance behind him, the eyes of all the women in the office following him as he strode calmly towards the front exit. He had tried to be nice but Marco was just too dumb to know what was good for him. No wonder Lindsay had never been with him in all those years, the guy was a schmuck. Dale would take his lame company from him and the secret love of his life. It was no more than the weasely little hack deserved for the danger he had exposed Lindsay and Nena to. The arrogant little rat would cave. They all did. Life was like that, even for so-called idealists like Marco.

  ********************

  Chapter Two

  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

  That's what Lindsay kept telling herself.

  She looked nervously around at her surroundings. This was definitely the lower end of the organized crime universe. She was waiting outside the offices of Vasily Obochek, used car dealer and alleged auto theft kingpin of the Washington D.C. area. Seedy didn't describe the atmosphere; degenerate, neglected and menacingly ramshackle would have been better. It was hard to imagine anyone coming in here to demand service on the basis of a used car sales warranty. In reality Lindsay should have been apartment hunting but what was the point of that? She didn't have the money for a deposit and her car would soon be repossessed, so she might as well use what she still had to try and make good on the story she had risked so much on. Her baby sitter was working for free in lieu of payment and this could be her last chance to keep herself and Nena out of the homeless shelters of the Metropolitan area.

  Marco hadn’t fired her yet but he had stopped paying her expenses. He had listened to the low quality snippets of conversation she had recorded and insisted that they were worthless without further evidence but had also told her to drop this story once and for all.

  But she just couldn't let this one go. If she had wanted to allow dirty deeds to be brushed under the carpet in order to save her own skin she would have chosen politics instead of journalism.

  "You can see boss now."

  She jumped. The accents were familiar to her now to the point where she could tell a Muscovite from an Eastern Siberian from a Southerner. The Muscovite Mafiosi tended to be more hostile, arrogant and ruthless. This man had a strong Moscow accent.

  He led her into the office where a small, fat, pock marked middle aged man in a wrinkled suit was waiting for her behind an empty desk.

  She took a seat in front of him and pulled out a note pad.

  Vasily was a vain man and was flattered by the interest the pretty young journalist was taking in him and his people. He also had a stake in finding Mikhail Boyevik and it was just possible that the resourceful journalist woman might be able to do what the FBI and Mafia couldn't and find the missing crime boss so that he could either confirm his death or carry out his own form of justice on the former international player. He was stringing her along, selling her bullshit information while he waited for her get a genuine lead. Lindsay for her part was hoping Vasily would be able to provide that one vital clue that would help her break the story in her crusade to link the Dale and his brother to Boyevik's disappearance.

  She scribbled on the pad and then pushed it towards him.

  On it she had written; 'New information. Boyevik with Feds. Confirm.'

  Vasily scribbled a reply and pushed it back.

  'Boyevik with fishes. Kiev Mafia.'

  The notebook began to slide back and forth.

  'Proof?'

  'I hear. No proof.'

  'Clayton Hargrave, Ruben Mayweather. You know these names?'

  Vasily shook his head. Lindsay cursed under her breath and stood up to leave.

  "Sit down." Vasily barked at her. His guy stepped in front of the doorway.

  "I need to go."

  "Information not free. Never free. No free lunch in America."

  "You
didn't give me information." She moved to leave but the heavy pushed his hand against her chest pushing her back into the desk behind her. Vasily caught her by the wrist with his sweaty hand.

  "I give information, you pay. Always like this."

  "No information, no payment. I don’t have anything to give you."

  "You pay." He repeated. "Or we take."

  She tried to pull her hand away from him but he was too strong.

  "Okay, okay, I'll pay. How much did that valuable 'information' just cost me?" She said sarcastically. Vasily held onto her wrist and leered.

  "One thousand dollar." He said slowly and then raised her hand to his nose. She managed to jerk if from his grasp this time, leaving him with a sick grin on his face.

  "I don’t have one thousand dollars."

  He continued to smile.

  "You not have? I can get. If you need lend of money I can get for you. You need lend. I hear rumor your boss in trouble, yes? How you pay your debt to me with no job Lindsay?"

  Shit, shit, shit. She felt herself begin to tremble. Suddenly the office seemed very small, very, very confining.

  "It's just a rumor Vasily. We're moving address. That's all. The business is doing fine."

  "Good. Happy to hear this. Then he not mind pay for this new information. One thousand dollars."

  "I thought we had a relationship Vasily, an understanding."

  "Only understanding is money. Nothing else. When there is not money, there must be other thing." He began pushing into his chair to stand up.

  "Okay, okay, I'll get your money. I don’t have it on me but trust me, AltNews is good for it. I'll go get it and drop it right back--"

  "Piotr go with you. I need now."

  So much for that bluff. Maybe it was time to go on the offensive.

  "I have information on you Vasily." Lindsay said, her voice shaking. "Wouldn't you like that to stay private?"

  Vasily nodded to his guy who snaked an arm around Lindsay's neck and put a gun to her head.