The Deal with the Billionaire Devil

MAD

As I scanned the familiar faces in the conference room, landing last at my father, it took me seconds to realize that they had started the meeting without me.

 I checked the time on my watch. I was five minutes early. Like always, I had never been late to work or a meeting, and it suddenly concerned me. 

"Glad you're here now," my father addressed my presence formally. "Take a seat."

 "Why do I feel like I'm a guest here instead of the CEO of this company?" In protest, I remained standing across from my father before the board members. "What's going on?"

 "I didn't know either," my assistant Ali whispered. "I'm sorry, sir."

 "It's not your fault," I assured her that her job was safe.

 My father's assistant, Vanessa Dylan, placed today's newspaper issue before me.

 "That's why we're here early," my father said firmly, staring right into my eyes. 

I didn't have to check to know that my face was on the front page and all over the internet again, like I'd been for the last two months. 

If I weren't strong enough and a man still filled with dreams and plans for the company, surrounded by the people who cared about me, and had a paid therapist to listen to my bullshits, I would have turned myself into a monk or a stone. 

"I can explain." I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat as that video flashed in my head. 

"I don't want your explanation, Madden. Your image is getting from bad to worse." My father was a good man, a brilliant strategist and businessman, but looking at him right now, he was like a starving lion about to lunge at me and feast on his fresh meat.

"What do you want me to do, Dad? It was my best friend's birthday." 

"I don't wanna hear more excuses. So you couldn't go to his house, greet him, or send him a gift or something? Instead, you went to the nightclub and exposed yourself to the hungry tabloids again. We've been trying to fix your image, for Pete's sake, Madden, but you're not even trying hard to help yourself."

 I breathed deeply while everyone around said nothing but listened to my father and me exchange arguments. "What do you think I've been doing for the past two months? I don't mean to be insensitive-"

"That's exactly what you are!" Dad yelled at me. He just lost his temper as he slammed his palm against the table, startling everyone. The room went completely and utterly silent. "We lost two hundred million dollars since that video spread like wildfire all over the internet. I still accepted your apology, son, because you're good at what you do, but last night was unacceptable. People start boycotting the company like we're a sore loser supporting a heinous crime. I can't do this anymore."

 "Dad-"

 "No." He only raised a finger, and I knew I was doomed. "The vote is unanimous."

 "You voted against me while I'm not even around?" My eyes narrowed at him. I didn't have to look at the board because I knew without a doubt that they trusted my father more than me.

 "Yes. I'm the chairman of this company. I still outrank you." He leaned back. "Here's what you will do, son."

 "Or what, Dad?" My tone was a challenge. I instantly noticed how his back stiffened. "You'll fire me? Go ahead, and I will start my own business." That was the initial plan, but why would I do that when I worked hard for years to keep this company on top?

 "You can quit, but then with your public image right now, I don't think there are investors out there who would risk their money and trust you." Of course, he knew. He looked at everyone. "Thank you for coming."

 I waited until everyone was gone before I took a seat away from him. "I did everything as you told me to, Dad. You know that."

 "You should have toned down your partying like there was no tomorrow." I felt like he just berated a six-year-old me. He wasn't even aware I attended the Kross Charity Foundation last month and another charity event before the so-called party.

 The door swung open a minute later, and my heart started to beat wildly because I had a strong feeling I was not going to like whatever plans my father had for me.

 A beautiful, sophisticated woman in her forties stood beside my father. She didn't have to introduce herself because I knew her. 

"I'm Vysper Rowe."

 "Crisis management specialist. I know who you are," I said nonchalantly. "So how can you help me, Ms. Rowe?"

 "I hired her two months ago. But since nothing is working for you, I have decided to lay the final option to repair your image, son. If it still doesn't work, maybe you have to step down as the CEO while you are still a major shareholder and a member of the board."

 "Wow." I snorted. "So, it's like my life is planned before I'm even born. Great. Lay it on me, Dad." I gestured as I grabbed the bottled water and drank it. I needed more than water to calm me, and I knew I needed something stronger for the next thing he had to say. 

Dad didn't like my tone, but I was more pissed at him for planning my future behind my back.

 "You're getting married."

 The water almost dislodged into the wrong pipe. I coughed as I stared at my father in utter shock. "Excuse me?"

 "That's the only way to help this issue die down, Madden. For you to settle down."

 I stood up and laughed out loud, mocking my father's plan. When he glared further, and Vysper did nothing but stare at me, I leaned my palm against the table, shaking my head. "No fucking way." 

"You give up your position or a public image rehab, Madden." 

"That's a little bit extreme, Dad. I did as you asked me to, hiding from the public eye, but marriage? How does it even help my image? How can you convince people to believe it's not a charade?" I stole a glance at Vysper. She may be good at crisis management, but she would also do anything for money.

 "The two-month phase was only the first step, Mr. Shanewood," Vysper said confidently. "The second step would be your engagement announcement, if you didn't go to the club last night." That was exactly what I was talking about. One rotten tomato blah blah blah. It didn't matter if I did something good.

 "Extreme? We lost another hundred million dollars since that tabloid came out this morning." He pointed at the newspapers on the table. The board and our investors are losing patience. I took care of your image, but it wasn't enough. So you either step down as the CEO or do as I say."

 "And who will take over? My COO?"

 "No. I can run the company without being publicly scrutinized like you are."

 "We already have a story plan ahead that you met someone during your travel. Then you will propose and get married in a very intimate ceremony. Then all you have to do is convince the people that you two are in love."

 I rolled my eyes at Vysper. At the same time, my mind went back to those stunning sapphire eyes. If she's the girl, maybe I'll consider. 

 "Easy for you to say. You're not going to be with a woman you're not in love with."

 "Then you should have kept your junk in your pants," Dad said to me as she gestured at Vysper. "Show him."

 "Show me what?" My gaze bounced between him and Vysper.

 "Give it to him, Vaughn," Vysper told her assistant.

 The Asian guy placed a black folder on the table before me.

 "What's this?" I asked and opened it, revealing the pre-approved list of women who were chosen for me. "You've got to be kidding me." 

"These are the candidates suitable to be your wife," Vysper said casually, like I was just choosing a suit to wear for a gala, not a woman to carry my family name and bear my heir. "An ordinary citizen, beautiful, single, and without criminal records. You can't marry a celebrity or a popular person like you."

 I stared at her in disgust. "What made you think these women would agree to marry me? How will I convince one of them? Don't they have their own lives to enjoy?" 

My father did not say a word. Instead, Vysper replied, "We will pay one of them a huge amount of money." 

"Fascinating." I spread at least six profiles before me. "Should I just say eeny, meeny, miny, moe?" I was beyond furious that I had to pick from one of these women and ruin her life in the end.

"Read their qualifications," my father said. 

"You don't even know my type." I snorted.

"You like tall, beautiful women, son. You don't have to love her. This contract marriage will only last for two to three years."

"Great plan, can't go wrong." With a lack of interest, I just picked one. "Here. Let me ruin another life. Congratulations." I stood up, buttoned my suit, and walked out.