The Billionaire’s Secret
Betting on You Series
Book One
By Jeannette Winters
Author Contact:
website: www.JeannetteWinters.com
email: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/Jeannette.Winters.3
Twitter:@JWintersauthor
Copyright
The Billionaire’s Secret copyright 2015 by Jeannette Winters
An original work by Jeannette Winters
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover art provided by Trevino Creative
http://www.trevinocreative.com
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Author Ruth Cardello who has mentored me through this entire process. And also to my son Luke who reminds me all the time to write because I love it.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Prologue
“Incredible, I never knew that about him.”
Still wearing their black suits from earlier that afternoon, the four men now sat in silence, silently recalling their memories of Brad from the past ten years of their friendship.
The loud crash of a waitress dropping a glass brought them back to the present. One of the men said, “I don’t think any of us knew.”
All four nodded in agreement.
“I still can’t believe it. Only twenty-eight,” another said.
“That could have been any of us in the accident.”
The somberness of the moment overtook the noise of the bar. The men raised the beers they’d been nursing and said in unison, “For Brad.”
***
Five years later.
“So are you telling me Jon’s not showing up for this meeting, either?” Trent Davis asked as their monthly Skype meeting began. His frustration was apparent not only in his tone but in his facial expression as well. He continued, “Who knows what lame excuse he’ll have this time. Maybe it’s time we reconsider continuing on with this.”
“Trent, I wouldn’t consider you having a date with a hot brunette as a valid excuse for missing last month’s meeting, either,” Drew Navarro added sarcastically.
“You’re just jealous, Drew,” Trent stated.
Ross Whitman knew even though both Drew and Trent were extremely serious about business, they had also been equally fierce competitors in everything else they did since they’d met in college a little more than fifteen years ago. Even now, although they were all thirty-four, there were times he was convinced they were still living in their college frat house. If he didn’t get them back on the issue at hand, this meeting could go on all night without them accomplishing anything.
“We’ve invested so much in this,” Ross said. “The four of us may have started this organization, but there’s no reason we can’t continue building Takes One with only three of us.”
Drew wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on this project, or on Jon. “We have to remember why we started this.” The three men thought back to Brad and his secret mission in life: to make a difference in the lives of those who were suffering, one person at a time. What amazed his friends to this day was how Brad had been able to do so much with so little money. He was the only one of them who hadn’t pursued a career in big business. No one had understood why until he passed away. The day of his funeral, they’d all committed to continue with his mission in his memory. “Our objective was a priority to Jon when we started, and I believe it still is. We just have to wake him up and remind him of that fact. Anyone want to bet if I’ve still got the magic touch to make things happen after all these years?” He laughed. No one commented. “Wise choice, because you know you were going to lose your money.” He laughed again. “Let me make some calls. I think I’ve got an idea that might do the trick, and if it doesn’t work, then I will agree to continue what we started without Jon’s involvement in Takes One.”
Both Trent and Ross agreed—and were glad they weren’t on the receiving end of whatever Drew was plotting.
Chapter One
Jon Vinchi sat behind his mahogany desk, everything in order except for one piece of mail, which it seemed someone had intentionally left right in his line of vision. He could tell by the envelope it was an invitation of some sort. Matt, his personal assistant, handled all invitations for him with a standard response: a polite “Regrets, I cannot attend,” and a gift or donation suitable for the occasion.
Jon buzzed the intercom for Matt. On cue, his assistant appeared at the door and asked, “Do you need something, Mr. Vinchi?”
Without looking up, Jon held out the envelope and said, “You missed one.”
Matt did not reach for the envelope, instead responding, “Mr. Vinchi, that is not an invitation. It’s the itinerary for the charity fundraiser that you’re participating in Friday evening.”
Everyone knew Jonathan Vinchi not only did not attend events, he definitely did not participate in them. Jon slid the contents of the envelope out. His eyes quickly scanned over the itinerary and stopped abruptly at his name.
“What the hell?” Jon muttered loud enough for Matt to hear. Jon brushed the itinerary to the edge of the desk toward Matt like it was an annoying fly and said, “Get on the phone and let them know I will not be there Friday.”
“Mr. Vinchi, I have to admit I was surprised when I saw the itinerary as well. I placed the call first thing this morning to inform them of the error. The—”
“Good,” Jon interrupted. “Then this is no longer an issue.”
Clearing his throat, Matt continued, “Not exactly. Mr. Scott, the chairman of the event, informed me you had emailed him personally to volunteer.”
It was unlike Matt to drop the ball. Not wanting to spend all day going back and forth on this, Jon said harshly, “Really, Matt? I personally volunteered? And you believed that load of crap?” Shaking his head in disbel
ief at the entire situation, he barked, “Fix it!”
“Mr. Vinchi, I have tried. Mr. Scott said they could not change the program at this late date, as the programs are already printed and in place. It’s three days before the event.” After a short pause, he continued. “I’ve tried everything, including requesting a copy of the email they stated they received from you, but everything seems to be in order.”
Jon knew he hadn’t sent such a request. Firmly he said, “Send it to me.” Without delay Matt turned and left the office to forward the email.
Jon could not wait to see this so-called proof from the event’s chairman. Once he had it, he would call Mr. Scott himself and end this charade. He wasn’t going to buy any excuse about a late cancellation. This wasn’t his error; it was theirs. There was no way he was participating in that event on Friday night.
The ding on his computer announced the arrival of Matt’s email. He figured one quick phone call and the misunderstanding would be resolved, then he could turn his full attention back to his business, where it needed to be. Glancing quickly at the email, it looked like it came from his personal address. However, the message was signed “Jonathan Vinchi,” and he never used his full name—he always used Jon. To everyone else, the email would look legit. There was no way the chairman would have known this email wasn’t from him. He was furious, but the error wasn’t the fault of the chairman or the event planner. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to set him up, and he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was and how he would deal with them.
Grabbing his cell phone, he sent a text message to his three associates: “Conference call NOW!” What the hell were they thinking? Jon thought. He was well aware his duty to their organization for these types of events required nothing more than sending a nice donation. If his friends thought someone should participate in person, they should have submitted their own names, not his. He was too busy for this nonsense. Yesterday he had received a notice from the FDA informing him of the software changes they required. If he did not meet their thirty-day resubmission deadline, the entire project would be kicked back, and he would need to start the submission process again. The proposal had to be perfect this time. If not, he was sure his competitors would swoop in on this opportunity to launch their own devices. He had spent the last two years on this project, and he was so close—only twenty-seven days left to make all the necessary corrections. He could not afford distractions now. Too much was riding on this; his name was riding on this.
He remembered what his father always told him: “No one remembers the name of the person who came in second.” These words motivated him all through high school to earn a full scholarship to Boston University, where he earned his BA and master’s degrees in computer science, and then his PhD in robotics engineering at MIT. Those degrees had driven him to start his own business, Vinchi Medical Engineering, and at age thirty-four, he still lived by those words to keep the company on top.
The intercom buzzed. “Your conference call is ready on line one, Mr. Vinchi.”
“What the hell were you guys thinking?” Jon barked as soon as he got on the line. Not waiting for them to answer, Jon continued, “Whose bright idea was it to submit my name to participate at this event—or any event, for that matter? This type of thing has your name written all over it, Drew. Is this your doing?”
As always, Trent said it the way it was. “If you had attended the last meeting, Jon, you would have been brought up to date for this and would have had the chance to voice any opposition to your participation.”
It was a moot point, Jon knew he’d missed their last meeting—actually, their last few meetings— due to his own business needs. But this stunt wasn’t solely about the meeting, and he knew it. “Trent, I have always supported the decisions you guys have made in the past, but I am not supporting this one. What makes you think I will even show? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“Time is valuable to all of us, Jon. We all have our own companies to run besides supporting what is needed for Takes One. Either you’re fully invested in this, or you’re not. There are times when it takes more than sending in a donation, and this is one of those times. When we started Takes One five years ago, we committed to doing this kind of work. Yes, there are the donations we grant anonymously, but the organization is about so much more than that, and you know it,” Trent said.
Jon knew Trent wasn’t only talking about this event. He was referring to Brad and how fully invested he had been in this type of work.
Ross said, “Takes One has never been about us. There are a lot of people who benefit from it, Jon. Friday night is about what our organization can do now and in the future.”
Once again, these were all facts Jon already knew, but at the moment Ross’s comments weren’t helping. Their timing to pull this type of shit couldn’t have been worse.
Drew added, “There’s no way to retract your participation Friday night. It’s only one night of your life—actually, just a few hours. Let’s get through this event. We can save the rest of the discussion about the future of Takes One for our next monthly meeting.”
Jon knew it was true—there really was no way to avoid his participation without tarnishing his own name and making the people he was ultimately trying to help suffer. But he was far from through discussing this issue. Jon said, “Trust me, Drew, I will be on the next call and we can discuss your involvement in this setup in more detail.” Whatever his friends and colleagues were up to, he wasn’t going to be a pawn in their game. It used to be fun betting who could outdo whom with some outrageous prank, but he had left those days behind when he graduated college. You don’t have such luxuries when you’re the owner of a business. At the end of the day, everything rides on you, and you stand or fall alone.
He hung up the phone with more force than necessary. He picked up the itinerary once again.
Charity raffle to benefit: Fight Against Hunger
Entrance donation: $10,000
Three door prizes. Top prize: A Date of Your Dreams With Billionaire Jonathan Vinchi
His eyes never made it to the other prizes. He could read the itinerary a thousand times, but the fact would never change: He was being raffled off. A mix of anger, frustration, and disgust flowed through him as it became apparent that no donation was going to get him out of this.
God, he did not need this type of distraction. Not now, not ever, but especially not at this critical time. It was going to be a long week.
***
Thank God it’s Friday, Lizette thought as she rubbed her temples, trying to ease the dull headache that had been haunting her for the past two hours. She wasn’t sure if it was all the system issues she’d faced while trying to process the month-end accounting report or something else, but today had felt like it would never be completed.
Taking one last look at her desk, she confirmed it was tidy as always, with everything in its place. Almost over, she thought as she shut down her laptop.
Getting out on time on a Friday was a great way to start the weekend. Lizette had her entire weekend planned out. She had so much to do, but Friday night was all hers. It was dedicated to relaxing. During lunch she’d made sure to download the latest steamy romance onto her Kindle. She could not contain her smile thinking soon she’d be soaking in a hot bubble bath with her novel and a glass of wine, enjoying a well-deserved escape.
Her sweet thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her phone. The clock showed 4:59. Why does the phone always ring at the last minute? She sighed. Lizette contemplated not answering it, but then the caller ID lit up with the name Elaine Manning. Elaine was the CEO of her company, Another Chance, and Lizette knew she couldn’t avoid taking the call. Since they were all friends in the office there was also a chance she wasn’t calling about business.
“Hello. Lizette Burke speaking. How may I help you?”
“Lizette, I’m glad I caught you. Can you come to my office right away?” It was a question that had only one answer.
>
“Certainly, I’ll be right there.” There was obviously something wrong with the month-end report. “So much for that bubble bath,” she said quietly to herself.
Lizette quickly adjusted her blouse and smoothed her fitted skirt. With one quick look in her compact she confirmed her hair was still in place, in a tight bun secured with a pencil.
She made her way through the all-too-quiet hall and headed to the executive office. The door was open and Elaine motioned her in. She was on the phone, rapidly firing instructions for a limo and a dress. Elaine attended many social functions in the hopes of gaining financial support and sponsorship for Another Chance. From the sound of it, she must be attending an extravagant one this evening, because she never used a limo.
At age thirty-four, Elaine Manning was known for her beauty and poise. But today her jet-black hair was in disarray, her nose red, her eyes bloodshot, and her cheeks flushed. Her entire appearance screamed “fever.” It appeared she was the latest victim to succumb to the flu that was making its way through the office. If Lizette had known earlier she would have brought her some soup. It was clear, she needed to go home and go to bed. There was no way she should be attending anything for a few days.
Even though she felt bad Elaine wasn’t feeling well, all she could think of was getting out of this office as she had been lucky enough to avoid catching it and could only hope her luck wasn’t about to run out. Please make this quick so I don’t get sick too.
When Elaine hung up the phone, she said, “I hope you don’t you have plans this evening, Lizette.”
The Billionaire's Secret (Betting on You Series: Book One) Page 1
