Billionaires Runaway Bride

“Don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling warmly as I shifted to make more space for the newcomer. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” the young man replied, looking a bit flustered. His ill-fitting suit appeared to be uncomfortable, which only added to the somewhat flustered air he exuded. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his forehead and the sides of his neck.

“I'm Jason, by the way,” he said to me as he put down his briefcase and took a seat.

“Nice to meet you, Jason,” I said, extending a hand to the man. “I'm A—, er, Andrew . . . Andrew,” I

replied as we shook hands. I caught myself before I could reveal too much. “I'm with the Sinclair Agency,” I added.

“Nice to meet ya, Andrew.”

“Are you with Winston?”

“No. I'm also with Sinclair. You been at the agency long?” Jason questioned.

I smiled strangely and nodded. “You could say that.”

“It's my first month here,” Jason said. “I was just assigned to the PR project for the Harry Winston Watch Company like three days ago. Now, here I am presenting at a brainstorming meeting. I’m a bit of a nervous wreck. Word is the CEO of the agency, Asher Sinclair, isn't too happy about the performance of the latest line of athletic watches in the first quarter of the year.”

I nodded. “I heard the same. Say, what's the word on Mr. Sinclair these days? What does the marketing department think about him?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Uh, don't you already know a bunch about Asher Sinclair? I mean, you did say you've been working here a while. What department did you say you were with again? I didn't catch it the first time.”

“I'm with finance. We don't chat too much about the boss. I think there are too many people who have to answer to him directly.”

“Oh. Well, this might help. Check this out,” Jason said as he opened his briefcase and took out the latest issue of Forbes magazine. “There's a feature piece on Asher Sinclair in here.”

“Is there, now?”

“Oh, yeah. I've read it like three times already. The guy's like, man, I dunno, Bruce Wayne or something. I can't help wondering if he's got a Bat Cave and a Bat suit up in some old family mansion in the hills.”

I chuckled. “Maybe he does have a Bat suit.”

“He's an odd dude. It’s a little strange that almost nobody knows what he looks like. There aren't even any photos of him on social media or anything like that. I don’t know how he keeps such a low profile. But, I guess I would, too, if I were in his shoes. It couldn’t have been easy for him, the way he grew up.”

“And, how was that?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You really don't know? Are you sure you've been at this firm for a while, man?”

“I just like to cross reference the stories I hear. It’s interesting how different they can be. So, what is it that you think you know about how Asher Sinclair grew up?”

“Well, rumor has it that his family situation was, you know, kind of troubled. I mean, being a millionaire by 18 cannot make for an average childhood or normal teenage years. And then the big kicker: when his grandfather, founder of the Sinclair Agency, passed away, he left the majority shares and control of the company to Asher instead of Asher's father. Now come on, how many 20-year-olds do you know who not only get to become sudden billionaires, but also the head of one of the most powerful PR firms in North America? That sort of stuff has got to mess with your head a little.”

“It might, I suppose. Although, for someone with the right resolve, the right constitution, with an insatiable urge to achieve and succeed, it could be the perfect trial by fire.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, you could be right. And by all accounts, the kid pulled through that fiery trial like a beast. According to everything I’ve heard or read, everyone was expecting the corporation to crash and burn after being thrust like that into the hands of a kid. And, I’m sure you know, but shares did initially plummet.

“Man, I don’t know what's in Asher Sinclair's blood, but there must be something superhuman mixed in. After all, here it is 12 years after he became CEO and those shares are worth three times what they were before. Three freakin' times, man! The guy's a bona fide genius. Someone even told me he's got his own personal racetrack and Formula One car!”

I grinned. “I've heard he's a decent driver, but doesn't race formally because it would put him in the spotlight, and you already said he keeps a low profile. A genius, huh? Maybe he was just lucky and made a few really good decisions at just the right time.”

“Or maybe he really is a genius.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Jason checked his watch and dabbed at his forehead again with his handkerchief, looking decidedly nervous. “Oh boy, the meeting's about to start. You know, they say Mr. Sinclair often drops in on these meetings incognito. Because so few people actually know what he looks like, he's able to do that. Man, I sure hope he's not gonna be there today.”

“Relax, Jason. I'm sure he'll be receptive to your ideas if he is.”