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After I read a handful of articles and webpages, I’m no closer to understanding this man than I was an hour ago. As far as I can tell, Gus has never given a single personal interview in his life. No autobiographies or biographies. No memoirs. The only thing in his “Early Life” section on his Wikipedia page is a brief note about how he was born in Montana and went to college at MIT. The only thing in his “Personal Life” section is a note about how he owns homes in London and Montana, and there’s a building named after him at MIT. That’s it. Even when I specifically type “Gus Winter girlfriend” into the search, I get paparazzi pictures of him with supermodels, but he’s never photographed with the same woman more than once. In fact, Gus Winter has never shown any meaningful interest in a woman throughout the entirety of his prolific, twenty-year career. And yet he’s willing to pass on fifty-billion dollars.
Unless he gets me.
Chapter 4: Gus
“You have a call from Davis Ridgeway,” my assistant, Brent, informs me, poking his head into my office. I’ve told him a thousand times: Just buzz my calls over from your own damn office. But I know he likes to drop in unannounced. It makes him feel powerful, I assume, because nobody else is allowed to.
“Which one?” I look up from my laptop and find Brent peering at me, likely trying to see what I’m up to. Nosy bastard could look at my calendar, but again, he enjoys flaunting how easily he can access me. “The old one or the young one?”
“The young one,” Brent confirms, holding back a smirk.
Whether or not he’ll ever admit it, Brent thinks I’m hilarious. It’s the cynic in him. He can’t resist the sound of my mood swings. His cynicism is the reason why he’s been my assistant for over twenty years—since the days when I couldn’t even afford an assistant. Tens of thousands of people have worked for me, but none compares to Brent: the rare mix of competence and cutting. I like that in an assistant—in anyone, frankly. Nothing bores me more than a sycophant.
“Patch him through,” I instruct before I motion for Brent to shut the door.
A moment later, I get on the line with Davis, who proceeds to tell me my stipulation “isn’t going to work out, unfortunately.” And then the kid has the balls to ask if there’s anything else I want.
In other words: Julia Ridgeway isn’t interested in me.
Fuck that.
It’s exactly what I say to Davis. “Fuck that. If I don’t get her, you don’t get my company.”
He’s quiet, which is rare. In our dealings to date, he’s always been quick. Clearly, I’ve gotten under his skin. Perfect. I imagine once he’s truly desperate, he’ll stop at nothing to convince his sister. I’ve got leverage for days.
Although, frankly, I’m shocked she’s taking this much convincing. The way Julia looked at me when she saw me for the first time was like she was starving and I was the most exquisite slice of prime rib she had ever laid her eyes on—and she was ready to eat me alive.
I would have let her do it in a fucking heartbeat.
“What if I increase the offer?” Davis counters, tone even. “I can’t alter the valuation, obviously, but I can sweeten the deal.”
“What makes you think I need more money? I don’t have to sell FundRight. I’m content to run it for the next forty years.”
It’s a lie, but the art of war doesn’t demand honesty.
Davis lets out a protracted sigh. “You don’t know my sister. If you tell her to do something, she immediately puts a stake in the ground and vows to do anything but that. I have no power over her. None. Even if I did, I’m not going to persuade my sister to…”
He trails off because he doesn’t have the stomach to say it aloud.
“To fuck me,” I fill in—because I certainly have the stomach for it.
I can practically hear Davis cringing on the phone. “Gus, you can have other women,” he reminds me needlessly. “I’m willing to bet you don’t need to contractually obligate most women to sleep with you.”
“I’ve been clear. I want her,” I answer, keeping my tone stern, as usual. “No other women. Her.”
“There’s no alternative? Nothing else I can offer you?”
“No.”
And that’s the truth. At this point, I’m so desperate to taste this woman one time, nothing else will ever replace the prospect. I wanted her the moment I first saw her through a sea of people. Flowing blond hair, honey skin, a body that made my breath hitch, and a tongue so sharp she nearly cut me with it.
I’ll hate-fuck her until she apologizes—or develops an unbridled addiction for my cock. Either outcome is fine with me.
Davis hums on the other end of the line. Have I broken the pride and joy of the Ridgeway family—and so quickly?
“Fine. I have a plan,” Davis announces, the assurance returning to his voice. “In the meantime, you should review the updated contract from our legal team and let me know if you have any issues with it. I’ll keep working on Julia.”
“Fine.”
