Chapter One
“And don’t steal any of my shit,” Caleb Turner said as he made his way toward the door. He was used to getting what he wanted and being a billionaire, he also knew a lot of people liked to steal. Checking his phone, he saw he had an incoming call from his father.
Without another backward glance at the curvy cleaner, he left his penthouse apartment and headed toward the elevator.
At forty years old, everyone would have been expecting him to settle down, start a family. The Turner family was a multi-billion-dollar corporation expanding across many different venues from film, cosmetics, to the news, and competitive advertisements as well. They had it all. Whatever he wanted to do, all he needed was to gather the funds and play. He’d been working his way up the company since he was sixteen years old.
His father wouldn’t allow him to end his education and so he had no choice but to finish high school, graduate college, and then take every single low-paying job within the company, and he’d worked his way up to a place on the board. It helped that his name also immediately granted him a place, so long as his father was happy enough to gift it to him. His father still ruled over the entire company and one day, when he retired, Caleb knew he’d be in charge of everything. He couldn’t wait. He actually loved the company. He also loved the lifestyle he’d earned. The money. Having women who would be more than happy to go on a date with him at the click of a button.
“What’s up, Daddy,” he said, smiling to himself.
Timothy Turner hadn’t been Daddy for a long time, but Caleb was still close to his father, unlike other men and women he knew within his age bracket.
“I want you in the office. We need to talk.”
“Is this about the family picnic next weekend? Don’t worry. I’ve got it all covered.”
“I’ll talk to you in the office, Caleb, not a moment before.”
The line went dead.
He frowned. Why would his father cut him off? Why did he sound angry? The movie he’d invested in over six months ago had just broken box office records and was in fact greenlighted for a sequel.
Rubbing at his temple, he walked with purpose to his car, climbed behind the wheel, fired up the engine, not taking his usual enjoyment at the sound and feel, and headed out of the parking lot. Once in the city center, he joined the endless lines of traffic. His father’s voice plagued him. What could be wrong now?
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he turned up the radio to some upbeat dance music and felt sick to his stomach. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his father could be pissed off. Clearly, he’d misread everything.
He couldn’t recall the last time his father was so angry. Actually, he’d never known him to be this angry.
He had to be reading things the wrong way. Next week was his father’s sixty-fifth birthday, and in celebration, they were having a party with friends and family over in the country house that was built upon acres of land, complete with a pool, a tennis court, and many other delights.
After pulling into the parking lot of his father’s building, known as the TT building, he went to the elevator and didn’t even bother to pitstop at his desk, going instead for the top floor. It was well known his father was afraid of heights but had still insisted on his office being on the top floor, to show his staff facing fear was something to be rewarded.
Entering the office, he winked at his father’s PA, Martha. She was the first woman his father interviewed when he started his company, and she’d been by his side ever since. She was close friends with his mother as well. They all were a nice group and got on well together.
“Go straight in,” Martha said. “Coffee?”
“Love one.”
He knocked first. Years of being taught etiquette from his little misdemeanors was hard to break.
“Come in,” his father said. “You made it in quick time.”
“I was already heading into the office when you called,” he said, taking a seat in front of his father.
“Is Martha getting you a coffee?”
“I believe so.”
“Good. Good.” Timothy Turner removed his glasses, which he used to look over the computer, and put his entire attention onto him.
He hated this.
His father wouldn’t move the conversation on until Martha brought them coffee. This was a stare-off, and the longer he waited, he knew his father was pissed. It was the unmistakable twitch of the eye that gave it away.
He waited.
The time ticked by.
A soft knock at the door and his father’s command followed. Martha entered with two drinks, leaving them to it. The door closed.