Fated Love

By Cole J. Powell

Saxton Prescott's billion-dollar career wasn't always driven by his own ambitions. When faced with an irrefutable ultimatum he masks up for a deal his father failed to secure.

 

Pristine tuxedos. Glimmering gowns. Each lead to the same place. Denial, avoidance, and dark alleyways. A temptress in white. Strangers to the naked eye and unbeknown threats that could destroy everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cole J. Powell
• Release date: May 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9780473711009

Cole J. Powell

Cole J. Powell is a New Zealand author who writes fierce heroines and cutthroat alphas. She loves writing books with suspenseful plots and twisted storylines; sometimes those sweet and heartfelt stories sneak in too. She thanks you sincerely for taking the time to read and review her work.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

My pen hovers over the dotted line where my signature is required. I’ve never been as apprehensive as I am now when signing a document. The significance of this deal holds more importance than any other I’ve signed before, making me hesitate.

I gaze out the window at the late-afternoon sun reflecting off the high-rise buildings, much like my own. The glinting rays against the tinted windows serve as a reminder that I’m alone in this. I have no one to share my empire with, only those employed by me who must sign a non-disclosure agreement, and that’s by choice. Hiding my life in secrecy was one way of channeling the darkness that loomed deep within. A gray area created by my father I refuse to reveal. Some days, I yearn for a simpler life, while others, I’m repulsed by the naivety of the world below. Yet, here I am. So why do I have a sense of emptiness?

My father always told me me, "Saxton, to be a man, you must take responsibility. You have to take charge and make something of yourself—of your life. Powerful men have others to do their bidding." Talk about hypocrisy. I naïvely fell into his trap.

His words haunt me at every meeting, every business proposal, and especially when I have finalized documents sit in front of me waiting to be signed—like now.

I always loathed the life that was created for me; the harder I worked, the more he expected. It didn’t make me any more of a man in his eyes and certainly didn’t deter him from making it known. I never had a choice back then, yet I was determined to jump through every hoop. I exerted myself until the job was done. Nothing hindered my ambition to become the powerful man my father spoke of. I achieved every goal and annihilated every target to prove that I was worthy.

Somewhere along the way, something changed.

As a billionaire CEO of my own company, I should be happy and content with the empire I’ve built—and I am. It’s the absence of someone to share it with that’s been crippling me. I have no wife or girlfriend because every vagina only wants one thing, and that’s not me. I have dollar signs embedded in my skin, sewn onto my suits, and glowing atop every building I own. The only thing untainted is my heart—vaulted up nice and tight.

The countless hours I’ve put in over the years have taken their toll. I can no longer fill the void with luxury hotels, restaurants, or casinos. You’d think the life of a billionaire comes with its perks, but for me, it doesn’t. I miss walking down the street without being recognized. I miss going to a restaurant to enjoy the cuisine. What I despise the most is having my choices taken away from me, all because my father died and passed his business down to me, his only child. The properties were tied up with no way out of the contracts. The mess he’d created was left behind for me to clean up. His debts were expected to be paid. How can someone so vile get away with what he did, then expect me to do the same?

I had to work harder to pay for his carelessness. I was forced to become the man he wanted me to be for that reason. Afterward, I built my own reputation. I passed his test and never stopped succeeding.

He was an excellent businessman, but as times changed, so did he. He became greedy, complacent, and sloppy. He acted strange, so unlike the powerful man he was known for. He’d make mistakes, forget things. He didn’t have a personal assistant or receptionist. He didn’t have an office where people busted their asses for him. He was it. The man. He had associates and business partners, people who contracted themselves to him, they all but followed along. Until he stopped paying them and disappeared for days on end, then returned and blamed me for what went down. That’s when I first stepped up.

My father had dementia and never told anyone until it was too late. He tried to get better, hoping special facilities would improve his health but, in the end,