To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1)
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Authors: Michelle Monkou
TO CHARM A BILLIONAIRE
By
Michelle Monkou
TO CHARM A BILLIONAIRE
Copyright © 2016 by Michelle Monkou
DALLON
Copyright © 2015 by Michelle Monkou
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. 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.
For questions and comments about this book, please contact Michelle Monkou at [email protected].
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Author’s edition ebook published by Stella Maris Publishing
Book cover design and layout by Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
DEDICATION
To my mom, Doreen Monkou, you will always be in my heart.
June 1932 – August 2016
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Bright
sun. Crisp blue sky. Gentle warm breezes. The day in Monaco falsely promised to be like any other with its perfect weather, dedicated sun worshippers, and playground magnet for any countries' royalty and for the spending habits of the
nouveau riche
.
The early morning hours met the arrival of the luxury cruise liner docked at Port Hercules. By now the next batch of tourists had disembarked for their invasion of the French Riviera to see up-close the paradise for the rich and famous, maybe even infamous. And yet, Damien wanted to close the shutters, lock the door, and keep the world—or just his family—beyond his gated property.
Too late.
His brother, Dane, had breached the walls and now stood in the great room, with his arms folded and rocking on his toes. The man lived to be irritated at something or someone.
Today wasn't different, as his judgmental gaze stayed like a tracking beam on Damien. But he didn't give a shit. Well, okay, he did. However, he wasn't going to let the runt of the Laurent brothers affect his mood.
Dane stopped rocking. "Are you listening to anything that I'm saying? This is about your future. Ours—the family." He shook his head at Damien. "Not like you ever understood the concept."
Breaking away from his brother's disgusted stare, Damien turned his back and stepped out on the balcony overlooking the patio below, swimming pool, and manicured gardens that colorfully framed the imposing iron fence. The pool shimmered like a turquoise jewel held up to the sunlight. He should be outdoors enjoying the day, not entertaining his brother's surprise visit to chastise him like a kid.
"What I'm here to tell you is for your own good." Dane's voice escalated to drag him back to the conversation.
Damien shrugged off the often-used advice and kept his back to Dane. Good was a relative term. His adult life earned him a bad boy reputation that had come easily and with little to no regrets. Took a hit to the heart for his stride to break. His recovery plan turned to being a part of the family business with the intention to impress his father.
The situation brewing proved his failure on that strategy.
"We care about the business," Dane said, behind Damien's right shoulder.
"And you think that I don't." Damien's temper flared and stayed lit.
"I want to make sure that what dad built from the ground up stays afloat. Hell, more than afloat. We are set to do big things. Take the business to the next level."
Damien drew in a ragged breath and slowly turned to face Dane. He tried to exhale his anger through clenched teeth. "You know, you can be a real prick."
"Why do you have to be so ... coarse? You had everything. We all did. You took more than you've ever earned, much less deserved. And yet, you act as if you are dad. Instead, you're just—"
"Oh, Danny Boy, are you about to say a bad word?" Damien really didn't want to hear any more labels. There weren't too many that he hadn't heard before hitting his recent 32nd birthday.
"At times, you make it hard to like you." His youngest brother peered at him as if truly trying to figure out the solution to a bothersome puzzle.
"I think that's what your mother said to me once. Only she left out the 'at times.' " Damien turned his back again. Conversation over. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the balcony rail. He waited to hear Dane's retreat out of his home.
He didn't mean to go there, to highlight the fact that his father had married three women, had three sons, and, in the last month, had separated from the third wife—Dane's mother. They were all used and manipulated by their father's whims and his appetite to court and marry the next candidate for Mrs. Laurent.
The Laurent brothers not only shared DNA. They shared the family experience of being ripped apart and sewn together within a patchwork of mixed loyalties and deep hurt. On the other side of this misshapen family unit, their father, Philippe, always emerged out of each breakup as if renewed and reinvigorated like a human version of a vampire after a good bloody feasting. His father had the annoying giddy expectation that everyone in his tribe would get along or, at the very least, show good breeding and pretend to get along.
Surprising to outsiders, the wife and ex-wives did get along, showing up at every official family dinner. The brothers, with a four-year age span from eldest to middle to youngest, also co-existed in his own way. Damien figured that not punching Dane in the nose right now served as his version of brotherly love.
Dane cleared his throat. "I'm not going to battle with you. Only came to deliver the decision face-to-face that you've been put on sabbatical. Actually, the timing of your doctor's orders for a bit of R&R works with the PR spin about this new development. No one has to know ... the truth."
"The truth?" Damien had to scrutinize Dane's expression to see if he was attempting to be funny.
"That you don't have what it takes to run this company or even be at the management level." Dane's quick temper never could stay deep undercover.
"Whoa! A little cutthroat, don't you think?" Damien's ego stung under the insults.
"You're putting words in my mouth. You're a Laurent, for heaven's sake. Our name carries clout. It'll open doors for you. That is if you choose not to return." His brother paused for added sickening effect. "Anyway, Dallon agrees this is best. He says that you should find your passion." Heavy sarcasm underscored the advice.
Damien fisted his hands and stepped forward.
Dane blanched and stepped back.
"Don't say another word," Damien warned, poking his finger at Dane's chest. "I'm trying my best not to toss you off this balcony." His heart pumped harder as his anger mounted. "We're in this business together."
"That's what I thought, too. But you haven't been in the office in the last month. Then you are off on vacations and day trips with your female companions. Do you even know what happened with the Kontos account? No? Let me fill you in—it's gone." The vein on his forehead stood out just below the skin.
Damn, the client bailed
. "The Kontos account had potential. He was serious about leasing apartments for his executive staff, but the Greek economy had his hands tied," Damien explained.
Dane snorted.
"What's that for?"
"You are going to pretend that you don't have a clue?"
Damien wracked his brain for the answer. "He was looking for alternative financing when we last spoke."
"Maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't have slept with his daughter."
"She is an adult. For the record, forty looks damned good on her." Damien's mouth quirked up with an appreciative grin over the memories.
"Until you decided not to continue relations, then she turned into a crying daddy's little girl."
"I apologized." Damien still didn't understand why the rules of engagement always seemed to go topsy-turvy despite his honest approach that he wasn't in it for the long haul.
"They want your head."
"A bit extreme." Damien rubbed his neck thinking of the literal handing over of his head on a platter and for what? Cause he didn't go back for seconds?
"Then there was the Saudi prince that you were supposed to close the deal in a quick resolution. Instead, you started partying in a German nightclub and moved it offshore until you got escorted back home. A competitor came in and swooped him up with better terms."
"Now, that wasn't my fault. I did the prince's bidding until he acted like a dog in heat with a couple women who didn't want the attention. That's why we went on his yacht. Figured that I had his undivided attention and not have to kick him in the balls. But, I didn't know he came equipped with drugs and women on the yacht. That little prick is spoiled and dangerous." Damien looked at his brother who had no idea what contortions he endured to go after the lucrative deals and get them neatly tied up.
Dane said nothing. But his inflexible attitude reflected how unimpressed he was with Damien's explanation.
Damien continued, "Look I know that the party on the yacht wasn't a good idea. I stayed away from the drugs and the women. Drugs don't interest me and I prefer to choose my women. Unfortunately, a journalist who was keen to show the western vices of the royal family took my damn picture and plastered my face on the front page as an example of the country’s Haves while the Have Nots suffer."
Damien never told his brothers that he'd awakened to banging at the door of his hotel suite by a uniformed soldier who led a handful of armed soldiers with the message to pack his stuff and get out. With his surly escorts, he was driven to the airport where the prince's private jet scooped him up and delivered him back to Monaco, without an apology from the prince, but worse for his current situation, without the promised business.
"It never is your fault." Dane looked at his watch, again. "Anyway, I have a full schedule, so I'm going to get on my way. But please, rest up. Get better. Clear your head. This isn't a punishment. Look at it as an opportunity."
Damien couldn't stop fighting. "This isn't legal."
"It's in the bylaws about job performance if you'd bothered to read the corporate documents. And it's still dad's company and dad's decision. Let's move on from this." Dane now offered his hand for the no hard feelings moment.
"I truly want to kick your ass."
"That's expected. But before you work yourself into another heart attack ... by the way, leave the alcohol, cigar smoking, and high-fat cuisine alone. Use the time to re-evaluate your life."
Damien bristled and knew he was never going to be as uptight as Dane who obsessed about the company and about his exercise regimen with equal measure. The man could be on track as an athletic sports model and with the ego to match.
A few magazines featuring the Laurent brothers had labeled Damien as the bachelor to catch or the face of the next generation's rich playboys. Silly stuff. He never took any of the stupid labels seriously. Unfortunately his family did pay attention to the press that called him a pretty face with sketchy potential, while Dane was the ideal heir to the throne of the Laurent Holdings—ambitious and savvy. Dallon was the likable and well-respected brother for his charitable endeavors and who could charm an angry hornet into submission.
His brother rocked onto his toes. "I'll be on my way. Oh, and your mother and pulled up when I arrived. Looks like she brought a guest." Dane shot him one last exasperated look, shrugged, and exited the room without another word.
Damien grabbed a nearby vase to hurl at the door. He wanted to rage. Instead he looked down at the pineapple-patterned glass and muttered, "Did I just get fired? From my father's business? By my baby brother?"
He set down the vase.
Could the hole that he fell in get any deeper and darker.
