Loving Quinn Novel by North Rose

(Quinn)

The skyline view out of my office window always calms me down. With one palm on the window and the other hand fisted in silky blonde curls, I watch the traffic on the streets below. The bustle of activity alway seems to help me think. This morning I am stressed out over a business acquisition.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Glancing down at the woman who is busy sucking on my cock, all I can think about is the meeting scheduled for later today. This little stress reliever will get me through the rest of my morning. My secretary has been giving me the ‘fuck me eyes’ for months. I gave in to my baser instincts and called her into my office.

Hilary sashayed into my office with a smile on her face.

Her moans do nothing for me, but the way she greedily licks my shaft sends pleasure through me. That is all I am capable of these days. Unadulterated carnal pleasure. No emotional connection. Just hot and steamy sex with all the women who throw themselves at me. Nothing but gold diggers, but they suit my needs just fine.

With a grunt, I spill my seed down her throat and, like the greedy woman she is, she takes every drop. Licking her lips, Hilary stands up, smooths her hair down, then tries to press her body to mine. I gently push her away so I can stuff my cock back in my pants, then I walk to my desk. Ignoring the hurt look on her face, I thank her for her time and send her back to her desk.

I am going to have to find a new secretary after the events that just transpired. I had a firm policy of not mixing business with pleasure, but I just broke that with Hilary. She was exceptionally good at what she did, but I won’t cross that line again, and she strikes me as a woman who won’t take rejection well. It is a good thing all our employees sign non disclosure agreements when we hire them.

Being one of the richest men on the west coast, I have my share of women throwing themselves at me all the time.

Lucky for me, most of the events, charities, and fundraisers I attend are all private affairs with no cameras or journalists allowed. I have a PR team that deals with any unauthorized pictures that show up in the tabloids or newspapers. They are paid extremely well to keep my face out of the media unless it is a planned photoshoot.

Like last night’s fundraiser, all the journalists were escorted out of the building after the photos were taken of all the upper elite at the event.

It was good that they were becauseI had one very audacious lady slip her hotel key into my pocket as we danced. She wasn’t wearing a wedding band, so when the night ended, I took her up on the invitation. Once I left her fully satisfied, I slipped out of her suite, then made my way to my penthouse before morning.

I have never spent the night with any of my lovers. That is another line I refuse to cross. I learned a hard lesson that has stayed with me to this day. Most of those women see me as a bank account, one they want to bind themselves to for social and financial status.

Hell no to that. I have no intention of ever getting married or tying myself to anyone. At least not until I find a woman who sees me for who I am and not for my bank account. Love only ends in heartache, where one person either leaves the other in the end, or does something much worse to cause heartache.

“I am going to have lunch with that pretty secretary of ours,” Aaron says. He enters my office with a swagger and a smile.

I laugh at him. Please distract her for me. We had a little stress reliever session this morning.”

“Well damn, that explains the less tense look you have. How about we hire you another secretary and I will just move Hillary to my office area. We can find you a grandmotherly type.” Aaron suggests as he walks out of my office.

That isn’t a bad idea. I pick up my phone to put in a call to the employment agency we used to find Hillary. I give them my requirements for the next secretary, and I am told that they have two people that fit that description. One being a fifty-year-old mother of three, the other is a thirty-year-old man who comes highly recommended by all staffing services. Without hesitation, I tell her to send them both over in the morning.

Having settled that situation, I call down to the HR department to have Hillary reassigned to a different office within the company.. Aaron can do whatever he wants with Hillary outside the office. She no longer works in our office. I sent him a text message informing him of what I did after I emptied her desk and sent her stuff to her new office.

With a sigh, I turn my attention back to Mercy General’s financial records and start taking notes. The more I comb through their records, the more obvious the discrepancies become. Why has no one in their accounting department noticed this before? Grabbing the employee file, I flip straight to the accounting department’s employee roster. There are only six accountants on file. None of them have been there for more than a year. Why the change in personnel?

To hide something is the obvious answer.

The vibrating of my cellphone pulls my attention away from the file in my hand. I pull it out of my pocket to check who is calling. The number on the screen is familiar. I don’t know who it is, but I answer it anyway.

As I answer, the call is disconnected. This is the third time in the last month that I have had calls like this. Each call is the same. I say hello then they hang up. No words from whoever is on the other end of the line. I had a similar situation happen a year ago. It lasted for a few days, then just stopped. It was from a different number than this one is now.

Back then, I had a feeling about who it was. This time I am left with no clue. I haven’t had contact with that woman in over two years. Why would she be calling me now? It is time to have Mac look into my mystery caller.

I shake those thoughts away when I hear the elevator signaling Aaron’s return. He looks slightly disheveled, making me assume he had more than just lunch while he was out. I shake my head as I know his habits like he knows mine. By the end of the night, we will both have a woman in our arms as we attend a fundraiser for veterans. Neither of us will be lonely for very long by the time the night is over.

“Did you enjoy your lunch?” I ask him with a grin.

“Oh, she delivered what I asked for and then some more. That woman was primed and ready for either of us, it seems. Now that I have that out of my system, let me get freshened up and I will be ready when the board members arrive.” Aaron says as he ducks into his office bathroom.

One day, I fear Aaron will meet the wrong end of a jealous husband. He has had more lovers and sexual escapades than I ever thought of having. I know he uses sex as an escape from the nightmares that haunt him like mine do. We may be out of the war, but the war will never be completely out of our minds. The memories are sneaky bastards that creep up on us at the most unexpected times.

We have both used women, alcohol, and extreme sports to distract our minds from wartime trauma. None of them ever work for long, but long enough to have those few moments of peace. I shake my head to clear those thoughts away as I hear the elevator chime. I look at my watch to see that they are early.

Thirty minutes later

“You want to purchase the entire hospital?” Maxwell, just call me Max, Davison asks me.

Max is the group advocate, it seems, as none of the other five members of the hospital board have spoken up since the initial introductions. I know all of them by name and face from our investigation over the last week. To me, the introductions were a waste of time, but first meetings dictate we follow proper protocol. The hospital board comprises of six members.

The owner, Howard Davison, an older male in his late sixties. His son, Maxwell, the CEO of the hospital, who is in his late thirties. Regina Morgan, the CFO for the hospital, looks to be in her early thirties. I know from our background checks that Regina is older than she looks, oh how plastic surgery keeps women looking younger.

We will conduct an even deeper investigation into her background and finances now that we have learned of those inconsistencies in the financial records. As the Chief Finance Officer for the hospital, she has her palms on the money. I text her name to Mac, so he can get started. I don’t think we should move further until we have the complete details of her involvement in the disaster at Mercy General.

Then there are Peter Wright, Frank Gillman, and Dave Green, all of which have extremely secondary roles on the board. Each owns stock in the hospital, but none of them have any substantial authority. They will leave just like Howard, Max, and Regina. It will be a complete house cleaning of Mercy General’s board of directors.

Aaron slides a small scrap of paper across the table with our low-ball offer on it. We started low just to observe how they would react. If they snap up the offer right away, they are more desperate than we know. If the offer insults them, we will show our next card. Max reaches for the paper, but is blocked by Howard, who shoots a glowering look to his son. Max may be the group’s advocate, but the old man seems to still be in charge.

Point one for Howard.

“The hospital is worth far more than this paltry offer,” Howard says. “The offer for the stocks is acceptable. Will this be a full buyout?”

“We originally only planned to fund or buy the Veterans Program, but we decided that we would have more control over how and where the money is spent if we just bought the entire hospital.” Aaron answered.

“The building itself is worth more than what you are offering here,” Max says.

“Your hospital is in a dire financial crisis. A terrible investment has brought your hospital to its knees. Do your employees know how bad it is? Do they know that there may not be enough money to pay for their next three paychecks?” I ask.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Regina go pale at the mention of how bad it is for them. Max sucks in a deep breath and stands to gather his briefcase and coat. Howard looks at him with anger all over his face.

“Sit down, Max,” Howard booms out. “Now!”

Max sits his ass down. Point two for Howard.

“Will you consider keeping anyone here on the board if we agree to sell?” Howard asks.

I look around the room at all their faces. Peter looks green. It is like he doesn’t know what he is doing. Frank and Dave look like they just go along for the ride. Yes-men, ones who will do anything they are told, as long as there is a check in it for them. We don’t want their kind on our board. They will all go, and if my theory is correct, Max and Regina will face some jail time. They are in this together if the looks Max keeps shooting Regina are anything to go by.

“We shall see about that if we proceed further in the negotiations,” Aaron tells Howard.

“Will you excuse my partner and I for a few minutes to talk?” I ask Howard.

Howard Davison is who I will speak to from this point forward. Max is a weakling who thinks he can fool his father. I think the old man knows what is really happening more than he lets on.

Howard merely nods his head. I stand up and leave the conference room. They will see us through the glass walls, but they won’t be able to hear what we are saying. I walk to the reception desk and wait for Aaron to join me. When he reaches me, I pull a small notepad from my jacket pocket, scribble a small smiley face on it, fold it up, and hand it to my best friend.

Aaron, being the man he is, kept a straight face as he looked at the paper. He nods his head, then walks a few feet away to pull out his phone. He isn’t calling anyone, but making it look like he is. This is a stalling tactic. We want them to think we are playing their game. We are playing our own game while we wait for Mac to call.

As I watch Mercy General’s board members fidget, the elevator dings. I turn to see who could come up here during this meeting. I smile as Jeff Moore, our CFO, steps out of the elevator. His timing is perfect, but the look on his face tells me there is a problem. That isn’t what I want to hear right now.

“What’s up? You look like you are the bearer of bad news, Jeff,” I say to him as he walks to me.

“Well, nothing bad for us, but all kinds of bad for them,” Jeff says as he nudges his head in the conference room’s direction. He hands me a file and waits while I open it.

“Did Mac send you this?” I ask him as my brows wing up at the numbers I see. They are ten times worse than what was in the second file.

“Yes, he has more, but wants to give it to you in person. He said what is in that file will help you negotiate better. The red head, her signature is all over those documents,” Jeff tells me.

“Well, this is good enough to end our negotiations today. Something for them to think over until the next meeting. Thanks Jeff,” I shake his hand, then turn to Aaron, who has joined us.

“Let’s head back in there. We are going to drop a bomb,” I tell Aaron. “Jeff, I would like you to join us for the rest of this meeting.”

“Old man Howard is going to blow his lid.” Aaron says.