Diablo Blanco Club, Unfair Advantage

  Diablo Blanco Club: Unfair Advantage

  Qwillia Rain

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © January 2009 by Qwillia Rain

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-806-8

  Printed in the United States of America

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * *

  DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id® publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id® nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Chapter One

  “Bryce. My office.”

  The ring of Jacob Halsey’s voice greeted Bryce as he exited the elevator. Despite the irritation and disgust riding him, he deferred to his father’s tone and position as the CEO of Halsey Unlimited, Incorporated. He might be the oldest son and next in line to run the company, but in the office he was still just an employee. The headache that had started with the incident at the restaurant intensified behind his left eye. When he had the time, he’d deal with it.

  Catching a glimpse of himself in the glass doors leading into the reception area of his father’s office, Bryce paused to straighten the maroon silk tie he’d loosened in the elevator. The emotions nagging at him were not visible in his green eyes or on his face. He grimaced at the length of his white blond hair. Having missed the appointments to have it trimmed, it now curled over his collar onto his shoulders and brought to mind the shaggy style he’d sported the summer before his stepmother died, when he was teaching her and Michael how to surf. Shaking off the memories, he nodded at his father’s admin, and then stepped through the open door and into his office.

  Once inside, Bryce knew the situation was worse than he’d suspected. Besides his father, four other chairs around the small conference table were occupied. Victor Prommer, one of the company lawyers, relaxed in his seat next to Bryce’s personal attorney, Dixon Jeffers. The company’s head financial analyst, Becka Swinfield, tapped perfectly manicured nails against the beige file folder in front of her. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked away. Richard Bennett, Halsey’s director of mergers and acquisitions, who, as vice president, shared joint authority with Bryce in running the company, leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes devoid of emotion.

  Definitely not a good thing if Richard was shutting down. With his father at the head of the table, it left Bryce to fill the chair directly across from Jacob. Feeling like the fattened calf being led to slaughter, he took his time settling into his seat and nodded an acknowledgment to each of the others.

  “We have a problem,” Jacob began.

  A casual toss dropped a magazine in front of Bryce’s fingertips. He didn’t bother looking at it. He’d shoved a prerelease copy into the garbage can at his home two weeks earlier. Knowing that his image was plastered across the cover with the ridiculous headline BILLIONS? YES. MARRIED? NO! in bold red letters above it, he addressed the problems related to the article. “I’m aware of the issues IT is having with voice and e-mails due to the increased traffic the article created from women trying to get my attention.”

  “And the problems with security?” Jacob asked.

  Bryce didn’t allow his frustration to show; he nodded. “I’ve spoken with the head of security. Extra men have been placed on all shifts to reduce the number of non-business-related visitors into the building.” The throbbing behind his left eye increased.

  “It goes beyond the minor inconveniences, Bryce.”

  “It’ll blow over.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “It has before.”

  “It isn’t just the magazine,” Richard added. “With the recent cuts in government spending, one of our military contracts has been eliminated, and two other contracts have been suspended pending Department of Defense budget negotiations.”

  “Frieda and Lionel Makepeace, Frans Heilbeck, and Jonathan Reynolds have voiced some concerns.” Jacob rose from his seat. Pushing back his suit coat, he tucked his hands in his trouser pockets. His gaze turned to Becka.

  After flipping open the folder, she read off a series of figures. The faces around the table grew grim as she concluded, “If our losses continue, cuts will have to be made in a minimum of two departments. Manufacturing and services are the divisions that would bear the brunt of the staff reductions.”

  Bryce watched his father’s face before scanning the others around the table. This was serious and not just rooted in a silly magazine article. “What can we do about it?”

  “We’re working every angle possible,” Richard assured him.

  “Fortunately, the Conlin merger is still progressing.” Victor smiled.

  Becka nodded. “And the investment in King Enterprises of Australia should see some ship construction and cargo contracts come our way.”

  “But the most important thing we need to address is the situation with you, Bryce.” Jacob gripped the back of his chair.

  Bryce leaned forward and pushed the magazine back to the center of the table. “Beyond this article, I don’t see how I can be held responsible for problems with the company. Most are a result of downturns in the economy and reduced defense spending.”

  “It’s been suggested I delay my retirement.” The knuckles of his father’s hands went white with the force of his grip.

  “Why?”

  “In order to find a suitable replacement.”

  It took everything in him to keep from protesting. Holding his father’s gaze, Bryce kept his tone flat, emotionless. “I’m sensing there’s more.”

  His father nodded. “Frieda and some of the other board members have requested that you tender your resignation once a candidate has been selected.”

  Bryce’s gaze turned to Richard, but the slight shake of his friend’s head could have meant not to say anything or that he wasn’t in the running for the position. Turning his gaze back to his father, Bryce held himself still as he asked, “And when do I have to make my decision?”

  Jacob ignored his question. Instead he turned to the others. “Thank you for your information.”

  Although Dixon remained in his seat, Victor, Becka, and Richard rose and exited the office.

  When only the three of them remained, Bryce shoved back his chair and stood. Thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets, he glared at his father. “Hell of a way to ambush me, Dad. Thanks.”

  “This is your only wa
ke-up call, Bryce,” Jacob snapped back. He was still an imposing figure. Standing just two inches shorter than Bryce’s own six feet four, his body reflected the care he’d taken with exercise and diet in the last three years since a heart attack had almost killed him. Very little gray showed in his dark brown hair and his brown eyes were as sharp as a man twenty years his junior.

  “What do you mean ‘wake-up call’?”

  Dixon’s ebony eyes held Bryce’s for the longest time. “He’s right, Bryce. More than just the four board members he mentioned have been bitching about you and your lifestyle for the last five years.”

  “My lifestyle? If you’re talking about the Diablo Blanco Club, how is my membership any different than yours?”

  “They really don’t care about your sexual practices, son,” Jacob scoffed. “If they had, my own membership would have been discussed years ago. What they object to is the number of women you’ve escorted and the image it represents.”

  “For God’s sake, didn’t that attitude go out with the nineteenth century?”

  “Apparently not, or I wouldn’t be asked to suspend my retirement five weeks before I’m supposed to hand the reins over to you.” Shaking his head, Jacob settled into his chair and motioned Bryce to take a seat again.

  From the expression on Dixon’s face and the tension visible in the fingers interlaced and resting on the file in front of the attorney, Bryce began to grow concerned. The older man was the epitome of a cautious lawyer, with his close-cropped, wiry hair sprinkled liberally with gray and his dark skin that contrasted with the white silk shirt he wore beneath his charcoal suit. If Dixon was uneasy, Bryce knew he had serious problems.

  “You have to understand, Bryce, that when Jacob suffered his heart attack, the board was understandably shaken.” Dixon’s voice carried the barest hint of disquiet, further worrying Bryce. “Even the company stock took a bit of a hit. Although the board members were reassured when you and Richard stepping in to run the company while your father recovered, they weren’t completely at ease until Jacob’s prognosis included a full recovery”

  “How does this figure into my resignation?” Bryce fought the urge to press his fingers to his eyes. The throbbing had increased. Every sound was like a hammer blow against his skull, forcing him to concentrate on what was being said.

  “They’re running scared,” Jacob admitted.

  Dixon agreed. “They see the drop in values, the reduced income from the lost or stalled contracts, and worry what other disaster is waiting.” He tapped the magazine. “Then something like this comes out and disrupts the smooth running of the company, and they panic even more.”

  “The incident during the contract negotiations with Conlin didn’t help,” Jacob snapped.

  “Right, Dad. Like I enjoy having desperate single women throwing themselves at me?” His mind reran the incident at the Stone House just an hour earlier. “Was it Heilbeck or Reynolds who came whining to you?”

  “Reynolds came to me,” Jacob admitted. “Heilbeck probably ran to the Makepeaces.”

  “Either way,” Dixon interrupted, “your sudden celebrity bachelor status is counting against you in the estimation of the board.”

  “What?”

  Jacob continued where Dixon left off. “Simply put, they see you as some rich playboy who’s more into revolving-door girlfriends and kinky sex. Every minute of negative publicity is just one more bit of ammunition Frieda and Lionel can use against you with the board.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Bryce snarled. “I spend most of my free time working with the different interests in this company, Dad, and you know it.” He forced himself to stand still and not pace the carpet like a caged lion in a zoo.

  “Hell, most of the board knows that, but with Frieda and Lionel stirring the pot, son, you haven’t a snowball’s chance in Hawaii of ever replacing me.” He nodded at Dixon.

  Dixon pulled a paper from the manila folder he’d left on the table. “Each of the board members has mentioned receiving the same letter from Frieda and Lionel.”

  Bryce read the letter, his lips twisting as he realized how the woman was ruining everything around her to gain revenge. “So how do I fix this? What do I have to do to convince the board that the Makepeaces are wrong?”

  “Get married.” As if rehearsed, Dixon and Jacob spoke at the same time.

  “Get married?” Bryce nearly laughed.

  “Yes.” Jacob nodded. “Get married.”

  Dixon added, “She has to be someone the board, the company, and the world are going to view as dependable, solid, and loyal.”

  “Not one of your typical women.”

  “And if I choose not to take your advice?”

  Jacob’s brown eyes held his for the longest moment. “If you can’t find it in yourself to marry a woman and stay married to her long enough to gain the board’s confidence, then you need to prepare yourself to walk away.

  “This company has built ships and transported cargoes around the world for nearly two hundred years, son. I can’t see you, the namesake of the man who started it all, blithely handing it over to a complete stranger.”

  “What about Richard? He’s more than capable—”

  Dixon shook his head. “Also single and known to frequent the DBC, as well as share partners with you. The board wants stability, Bryce.”

  “This is blackmail.”

  Jacob laughed for the first time, the humor in his voice dark. “No, son, this is business.” Standing up, he concluded the discussion. “Think about it, Bryce. Think about someone whom you’ve built a relationship with. Who understands the business and its priority in your life and who can withstand the scrutiny of the board members without losing her cool.”

  “How long do I have?”

  “No more than five weeks. Be engaged or married by the time I’m supposed to retire, or I’ll have to demand your resignation.”

  * * *

  Leaning back in his desk chair, Victor Prommer pressed a button on his cell phone and waited.

  “Yes?” The southern drawl was pronounced and aggressive, just like the woman herself.

  “It looks like he’s on his way out.”

  “Looks like or is?”

  “His father delivered the news not forty minutes ago. I doubt even Bryce Halsey could dig up a suitable bride in five weeks,” Victor assured her.

  “I don’t pay you for your opinions, Mr. Prommer. I pay you for results.”

  Stifling the urge to hang up on her, Victor tempered his tone. “And I’ve provided them, Mrs. Makepeace.”

  “Not enough. When Bryce Halsey hands me his resignation and we install our man in the CEO’s chair, then you will have delivered on your promises.”

  “You’ll have it.”

  “I had better, Mr. Prommer.” The abrupt disconnection of the call was as familiar as her condescending attitude.

  “Cold fucking bitch,” Victor muttered, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He’d paid good money to have specific, critical meetings disrupted by women “desperate” to gain Halsey’s attention. She’d get the damned results she wanted, but he’d get his as well.

  Double-clicking to open the file on his computer desktop, he skimmed the document for the key terms he’d included. Frieda and Lionel Makepeace may have hired him to destroy Halsey Unlimited, but he wasn’t going to put his neck on the line without providing himself a little compensation.

  * * *

  “What the hell is she doing here with him?”

  Richard’s question had Bryce glancing over his shoulder toward the front of the restaurant. It had taken most of the afternoon, six pain relievers, and two glasses of single malt to reduce the throb behind his left eye to a dull pain. The sight of Mattie Lawrence, his administrative assistant, and Victor Prommer making their way across the floor toward a table nearby had the pounding increasing all over again.

  “They just came from work.” Bryce sipped his drink. He followed the sway of Lawrence’s hips as she crossed
the room and debated the decision he’d come to following the meeting with his father.

  “I don’t care where they came from; I want to know why she’s here with him.” Annoyance increased the soft drawl in Richard’s voice. Gray eyes narrowed on the couple as the maître d’ seated them.

  If Bryce hadn’t know Richard as well as he did, he would suspect there was more to his friend’s interest in Lawrence’s dating habits. He assessed the couple seated four tables away before looking at his friend. “Is there something wrong with Lawrence going out with Victor?” Until he came to a definite decision, Bryce couldn’t stake his claim on Lawrence. Bryce took a deep breath and attempted to relax when he realized his own ire was rising at the thought of Victor making advances toward her.

  “She should know better,” Richard growled before stabbing a chunk of steak and carefully chewing on it.

  A master controls no one if he cannot control himself. The saying floated through Bryce’s mind in the interval following Richard’s comment. He split his attention between Richard’s grumblings and the couple across the room while he consumed the delicious prime rib dinner before him. He was working on an after-dinner coffee the waiter had poured when he spotted the first touch.

  It had been subtle, just the slide of Victor’s hand over hers, but Lawrence’s body stiffened, and she eased away from the man the tiniest bit. Hackles rising, Bryce leaned back in the booth, his focus on the pair across the room. “Well, what have you heard wrong about him?”

  “He’s the perfect gentleman until he feels it’s time he doesn’t have to be anymore.” Richard cursed beneath his breath as Victor tried to stroke his hand down his date’s arm.

  Again she stiffened and moved away, her chair lurching slightly as she nudged it farther right.

  “You’re not going to do anything about this?” Richard met his gaze. His gray eyes were disbelieving, almost accusatory.

  “Why should I?”

  “You’ve spent the last eight years waiting, Bryce. Are you going to let another man take what you’ve been preparing?” He shook his head, the tight brown curls barely moving. “Hell, I haven’t been able to figure out why you just didn’t claim her when she first showed up.”