Chapter Ten

Wick

Early evening the next day, Martinique Avenue, Davis Islands, Tampa, Florida…

"Wick, speaking," she said in a crisp voice as she answered her cell phone on the fourth ring. Having just arrived home, all she wanted to do was put her feet up and relax with a chilled Chardonnay.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Bitch. This is Amalia Summers. I'm the executive assistant of Mr. DuPont, CEO at CyberCo Airlines."

The keys she was about to place in the bowl at the entrance hall slipped from her fingers and clattered to the tiled marble floor.

Shit! Shit-shit-shit! And here I thought nothing would come of me borrowing that chopper.

"Ms. Bitch? Are you there?"

"Ehm… yes, I'm here." She cleared her throat, which suddenly sounded like a frog had taken possession of it. Kicking off her shoes, she made a beeline to the small bar in the den. She desperately needed some liquor to give her confidence a boost. Who knew what an all-powerful billionaire businessman in the States could do to her? "What can I do for you, Ms. Summers?"

"It's Mrs. Summers," she said in a melodious drawl. "Mr. DuPont asked me to arrange a meeting for you with him tomorrow."

"Why on earth would he want to see me?" Wick hedged as she took a deep sip of the shot of whiskey she had settled on. She had left a note in the chopper addressed to the CEO, explaining that she had borrowed it since she had been stranded on Black Point Island in the middle of the night. Adamant not to be beholden to CyberCo Airlines, she had also drawn cash at an ATM in the small airport and left it with the note to cover the fuel—which, in retrospect, it probably didn't, but at least it equaled a business class return ticket price on a normal Airbus. One thing she hadn't done was sign her name. It was an anonymous note, so there was no way they would've known who had taken the chopper… except if Master M had told them.

Shit! Shit-shit-shit!The glass tinkled loudly as the bottle hit the top edge when she poured another shot. Her fingers trembled as she swallowed it in one go, grimacing as the liquor burned a trickling path down her throat. She wracked her brain but couldn't recall if she had ever seen any photos of the airline's CEO anywhere. He clearly didn't like the limelight. For all she knew, he was one of the members on the GoldenEye that night.

"Ms. Bitch, CyberCo Airlines has a very tight security system, which includes full coverage CCTV footage at all our hangars across the States, and especially at our main one at Miami International Airport." Mrs. Summers sounded affronted that Wick even dared hint at not knowing why she was being summoned. "Nine a.m. sharp at our head office block at Miami International Airport. Top floor."

"Tomorrow? Not to be facetious, Mrs. Summers, but I don't exactly live in Miami. I stay in Tampa," Wick protested. There was no way she was going to jump when billionaire DuPont snapped his fingers. A quick glance at her watch confirmed it was already after eight at night. Who made an appointment at this time for the next day, especially one that was in a different city?

No? Did you forget you stole his chopper?

Borrowed. I borrowed his chopper.

Semantics, my dear.

"I'm aware of where you live, Ms. Bitch. It's an hour and ten-minute flight or a four-and-a-half hour drive. Whichever way you choose to make your way here is up to you. I do, however, suggest that you're not late for the meeting."

"Look, Mrs. Summers, I— Damn it to hell," she snickered as she realized she was talking to herself. DuPont's executive assistant had just put the phone down in her ear.

"I guess that means I don't have a choice," she muttered as she indulged in a third shot of the very expensive whiskey she had been saving for a special occasion. She toasted herself with a wry smile before she chucked the fiery liquid down her throat. "Well, what can be more special than this? I'm about to have my ass served to me on a plate by a very influential man. I can only hope he has some empathy and won't completely destroy my entire life." Her hands fluttered in the air. "I mean, I did leave his chopper at his hangar with a note and money, right? At least, that should count in my favor. I could've just… ugh! What's the use? I fucked up. I have no choice but to face his wrath."

Max

CyberCo Airline Head Office at Miami International Airport, Florida…

Max DuPont was a very wealthy man. His mother's family had money as far back as he could remember… except the day she married his father, she was cast out. Her father didn't suffer fools easily, and in his eyes, Matthew DuPont was a loser. He hadn't been wrong. Regardless of suffering because of the choices his mother had made, Max had remained resilient and built his own legacy of achieving success and making money through hard work, commitment, and loyalty to those who helped him achieve his goals.

Perhaps that was why CyberCo had been awarded the U.S. Employer of the Year five years running. Every employee on his staff was given shares in the company as part of their remuneration package. Max believed in sharing and paying forward the wealth he had amassed on his own. With a very low staff turnover, it had proven to be the best strategy to gain trust and loyalty across the board.

The inheritance he had received from his grandfather fifteen years ago remained untouched in an investment trust. In honor of the man he had become, he had vowed to achieve success on his own. He had never met his grandfather, and he had no intention of riding to success on the money he had left his only namesake to assuage his guilt for casting his daughter out. Besides, he had never seen his mother after the day she had walked away, leaving him with Matthew DuPont.

Hard work, and clever investments had paved his way into becoming a billionaire before he turned forty. The airline had been his dream child and had grown from a small fleet of two Airbuses flying only out of Florida to thousands of planes crossing the States and across the globe. CyberCo Airlines had become an international conglomerate that many people yearned to work for.

"Ms. Bitch just arrived at reception, Max." Amalia Summers' voice floated clear and melodiously over the intercom system on his desk.

"Please show her in when she arrives." Checking his watch, he smiled in approval. Wick was right on time, a characteristic he appreciated as a businessman.

Rising, he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out over the rippling water of the Blue Lagoon. The CyberCo Airline Head Office building was on the borderline of the Miami Airport on land that he owned. The glass and steel building was modern, luxurious, and had a beautiful view. The entire building was soundproof to eliminate the noise of planes taking off and landing in the distance. It had proven to be well worth the money since he was next door to their main hangar and could keep his finger on the pulse the entire time.

Relaxed, legs spread, and with his hands buried inside his pants' pockets, he didn't turn around when the door opened.

"Ms. Bitch is here, Mr. DuPont." Amalia hesitated a moment when he didn't respond. "Please take a seat at the desk, Ms. Bitch."

"Thank you." The effect of the soft melody of her voice presented itself in his cock, a slow warmth that spread along his length as it turned turgid.

Ahh, there she is.He smiled at the echo of her crisp response. The professional PI, all wrapped up in a cool, calm facade. However, Max didn't get where he was without taking note of the small ticks of life. Ms. Bitch had just allowed one of her tells to slip. She was nervous, very nervous. The slight pitch in her voice at the end of her polite response to Amalia confirmed it.

Max was valued at Delta Force because of his strategic mind. His tenure in combat extended to business and his private life. Max DuPont never did anything without a defined purpose in mind. This meeting was no different. As the silence stretched, Wick became agitated, noticeably so as he watched her reflection in the window. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, peeking sideways at him, fiddled with her fingers, then dragged in a deep breath before she repeated the process, again and again.

Max waited. She didn't last long before she started babbling.

"Look, Mr. DuPont, I was going to phone to ensure that you received my note and the money I left after borrowing your helicopter. It's just been a little busy, and I never got around to it. Yes, I know it was a judgment error, and I probably shouldn't have done it, but surely you can't hold it against me? I mean, I just had to get off that island. Please don't judge me based on that."

"Quite the pitch, Ms. Bitch." Max kept his voice at a normal frequency. His natural tone was deep and guttural but not as dark and dangerous as his Dom tenure, which was the one she would remember. Not to say he wouldn't sound familiar, but she wouldn't know off the bat. "You are the sum total of the decisions you make in life, my dear, but I'm a believer in second chances. Therefore, I don't see this one bad decision you made as defining who you are."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. DuPont. That's quite a relief. I've been wondering…" Her voice drifted off as he began turning around. As always, when his emotions were high, his eyes glimmered like liquid gold as their gazes met. Hers, shocked and disbelieving. His, deliberately taunting her in a dark, devious, and dangerous way.

"Besides, my helicopter isn't why you're here."

"Y-You! Master M! How… I… how the devil can you be Max DuPont? You… oh, fucking shit," she ended in a breathless murmur as the direness of the situation she found herself in registered.

"I'm not sure how to respond to that, Wick, except that I've been Max DuPont since birth."

"You deliberately deceived me!" She jumped up and stomped her foot. His eyes roamed to her bouncing tits, but his expression remained slightly amused. "You lured me here knowing I would have no choice. If you think I'm staying, then you're sadly mistaken. Good day, Mr. DuPont."

"Sit."