The Billionaire and the Seductress

Copyright © 2022 by J. Garcia

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The room sized closet was recently graced with a new line of Armani suits, just released for spring. A Forester´s taste was nothing if not the three Es –exquisite, elegant and expensive. He had this standard to live up to all his life. You couldn’t have the last name without looking the part. His family could be called the twenty first century Ewings in the name of wealth and status only with less the many family members and scrupulous drama. Forester Oil Company was today one the leading distributor´s of oil in America, and as of now becoming an international brand, thanks to him. The new generation from the line of Forester men was going to be the first to launch the company worldwide.

Alexander Forester both his first and last name would soon be known all over the world. He looked in the mirror trying to decided on whether the blue or black tie. It was a funny how he was indecisive with fashion, yet such a brilliant decision maker when it came to corporate matters. In a few days, he was going to meet with investors from Tokyo and finalize deal securing the first branch of Forester Oils outside the United States. It was what he had dreamt of transforming the company into from he was a teenager just learning how takeover and run his birth right, a renowned billion dollar business.

A discreet knock on the wooden door by a maid delivering the message that his drive just pulled up outside, he nodded and grabbed his attaché case.

Charlie got the limo door once he saw him came out the building. He was forty-seven years old and about to welcome a grandchild and retire from chauffeuring after working for his family since he was in diapers. Picking him up from school every day and recuing him from his boring tutors on weekends, trading in his studies for a drive to Coney Island. He was the only real adult friend, apart from Lilly, he had.

“Good morning, Al.” he greeted.

“Morning, Charlie. How’s Alice doing?”

“Quite well, she’s due any week now,” He said with utter satisfaction.

“That’s great and the morning sickness?”

“Not as bad, thank god…” He rubbed over his creased brow. “She’s gotten use the symptoms after the past eight months. How’s dear Lilly?”

“Fighting,” His fervent reply made Charlie sympathize.

“Be sure to tell Alice how happy I am for her.” He smiled.

“Will do, Al, I’m happy for you too.”

Alex crooked his head to the side. “Why?”

“I don’t know but you always that chipper look on your face whenever you accomplished something important to you.” He hinted ushering him into the vehicle. “I’m goin’ miss you so much, Charlie.” He told him while getting inside.

The New York traffic was evaded, since they were on early time the streets were messy, newspapers scattered all over the city daily as a result of the windy weather they were having. Through the window Alex glanced blankly at the various homeless shelters that passed by. Each had long lines of people waiting and hoping the shelters had enough room to take them in. “Amazing how the government withdraws a handsome percentage of corporate tax from top manufacturers and uses it for the benefit of these worthless money hungry politicians, instead of public welfare,” he thought with loathing.

“Did you see the game last night?”

Patrick asked, throwing the baseball to Alex, who looked up from the paperwork in time snatch in his hands. “This isn’t a playground, Pat, are you trying to break something?” he scolded Patrick in the manner their parents did when they were children. Growing up they played softball in the house around the expensive furniture and antiques. Each time they destroyed priceless antiques they ran away and placed the blame on the house pets or their nanny.

“Spoilsport,” He mouthed, catching the ball back.

“No…I’m a grown up and no I didn’t see it I had a lot of work.”

Alex told him, opening a next file.

“Wow. Do you honestly know who you sound exactly like just now?” Patrick’s eyes widened astonished. He could have sworn Mr. Forester number 1 just passed through the room.

“Don’t go there, Pat.” He yielded a deflective scowl. “Besides I want to concentrate on these charts and would appreciate it if you don’t hit anything on my desk. Least not until I’m done.” His best friend/Chief Executive of Forester Oil organization, though he didn’t act as such, was one of the main reasons the firm reached where it is today. He had a skill for being the fun guy without losing focus on doing his job up to and even above standard. Sadly, Alex was not that kettle of fish, he wished he was. Between maintaining the company’s production level, increasing the chain of affiliates for an improvement in the marketing patterns. As well as keeping all the accounts balanced while using its resources and the full- effort to expand the company name, he was undoubtedly a workaholic.

“You got to be kidding me, Al. Is it my imagination, or didn’t we cover that yesterday?”

He flipped his hands over and shrugged his shoulders.

“We had a mere presentation. I need to revise these projects myself before our investors visit on Friday.”

“You need to get a life man, don’t sweat it, we have Tokyo in the bag.” He said throwing the ball in the air and caught it with one hand from behind.

“The trip will be scheduled for the beginning of March. What do you think?”

He asked plugging the flashdrive into his smart desktop.

“I think you need to get a life, as I said,” he pulled out a Yankee cap from his jacket pocket. “Send our representatives their highly trained and will bring home the bacon. Besides you’ve been working nonstop for ten months now. It’s time you sit back and relax.”

“And why worry whether or not they can meet all our goals? Don’t count on it, you should know better than that, Pat. This is the future of Forester Oils we’re talking about here.”

“Good grief. Someone really should show you how to be more easygoing,” he said putting on the cap.

“This company’s foundation was built on being easygoing,” Alex retorted tapping on the keyboard.