The Construction Worker & the Billionaire

by Sierra Rose

  “No, I don’t,” he replied quickly, his eyes glittering with anticipation as they locked on the screen. “And don’t bother printing out the file—I just want a name. My brother’s name.”

  She leaned back with a hint of surprise, then shrugged as if it couldn’t matter less either way and scrolled down on the page. A moment later, she stopped. Looked up at him. Then glanced back at the computer with a smug sort of smile. The kind that came from knowing something that someone else didn’t. Being the first to find out the scoop.

  “Not just your brother...your twin brother.”

  Logan froze where he stood, staring at her in disbelief. His first instinct was to shove the insufferable woman out of the way and check it for himself. Surely such a foul creature couldn’t be trusted to relay such sensitive information. His next instinct was to reject the notion outright.

  A twin?! He had a fucking twin?! Were they identical?!

  “I don’t...uh...” He floundered and stammered, trying very hard to string together a complete sentence. “...are you sure?”

  That smug grin got even wider, stretching across her whole face.

  “Don’t ask me—ask Dylan Stone.”

  Logan stared back at her in a daze, hardly taking in a word she was saying.

  “Who’s that?”

  Her teeth flashed as she leaned back in the chair, twisting from side to side. “That’s your twin brother. Dylan Stone. Current resident of Cleveland, Ohio. Or at least he was. Once the adoption is finalized, there’s really knowing where these kids end up—”

  “Thank you.” He was off the next second, putting the entire experience behind him as he paced swiftly to the door. “That should be more than enough.”

  She stared after him for a moment—mouth hanging open in surprise. Like a kid whose toy was taken away too soon. A second later, her face darkened back to its usual angry hue.

  “NEXT!”

  Chapter 3

  It was a short flight from Detroit to Miami. An even shorter flight when you owned your own private plane. Logan stared out the window as they ascended through the grey clouds, then touched back down again in clear Florida skies. Skies that were bursting with the burnt reds and vibrant oranges of a glorious ocean sunset.

  He hardly even noticed. Truth be told, he never noticed. He owned the tallest skyscraper, on the ritziest street, with the best ocean view in all of Miami. Even so, he rarely had time to stop and enjoy the sunset. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even tried.

  “Back to the office, sir?”

  He and Jerry were in a new limo, now. One that looked identical to the first, except for the Florida license plates. The windows came down, and he glanced through the partition. It was coming up on nine in the evening, but even so, it was a customary question. There was rarely a day when Logan would leave the office before midnight, and rarely a morning when he wouldn’t get there before seven. He opened his mouth to give the customary reply, then suddenly stopped himself—staring down at the name scribbled on his hand.

  “No. Home please, Jerry. Quick as you can.”

  His company could wait. He had a twin brother to track down.

  Jerry gave him a theatrical salute, and a second later, the limo was rolling away from the airstrip, out onto the main thoroughfare. The lights of the city flashed before their eyes, as one by one, the nightclubs and deluxe bars of Miami came to life. Girls sauntered past the window in their bikinis—walking in what looked like slow motion by the light of the setting sun. Crowds of friends laughed and drank and screamed as they wandered from one street to the next. Moving at a leisurely slow pace. Taking in everything the night possibly had to offer.

  Not that Logan was paying attention. He had long ago given up such things to build his colossus in the sky. A megalith company that soon took on a life of its own and refused to release him from its inescapable grasp. He’d traded in the swim trunks and sandals for three-piece Italian suits. Traded in the social life for an international reputation. Exchanged friends for business associates, and filled up any gap left in between with ungodly amounts of money.

  Even now, with the sounds of the city screaming in his ear, he barely glanced out of the car. His eyes were focused only on the name he’d excitedly wrote down.

  Dylan Stone.

  He leaned back with a glazed expression, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the leather chair. Once the shock of the news had subsided, he found himself facing a sudden slew of questions. Ones that circled in a continuous loop through his brain.

  Is he alive? Is he still in Cleveland? Are we identical or fraternal? Did he receive the same notification as I did that our mother was dead? Why were we separated? Why did our mother give us up? Did she love us?

  ...does he know he has a brother?

  Ten minutes later, they had left the crowds behind and were flying along a private street, one that curved along the length of an equally private beach. The driveways got farther and farther apart, and the houses got bigger, until finally, the palm trees opened onto an iron gate.

  Jerry rolled down the window and typed in the code. A camera flashed on, and a static-ridden voice echoed over an intercom set amongst the trees.

  “No office tonight, Jerry?”

  “Nope.” Jerry’s eyes flashed to Logan with a faint smile, as the gate eased open and the car rolled slowly through. “We’re turning in early.”

  The torches lit up, one by one, as the car sailed down the drive. Passing the clusters of tropical trees and fragrant-smelling flowers. Past the trickling fountains, offset by the gentle roar of the ocean waves. Down to the rounded driveway that opened up to the villa.

  Villa. Not house. When you made enough money in this city, you purchased a villa. A breathtaking miniature palace. A shining beacon on a hill. A multi-million dollar calling card for all those other people struggling to climb the social ladder. Logan had purchased the biggest one.

  “No papers tonight, Jerry.” Logan climbed out of the car the second it was parked, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked past the five other sports cars parked in the adjacent garage. “Tell Millard that I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  Millard ran the house, while Jerry ran all the outside activities. Both did so with an iron first. Both were fiercely territorial of the man who employed them. Both had been engaged in a virtual cold war against each other for the better part of five years.

  “You sure you don’t want me to tell him that he’s fired instead?” Jerry inquired casually.

  Logan flashed a smile, but didn’t slow his pace. He was a man on a mission. Somewhere in Cleveland, Dylan Stone was about to get the surprise of his life. All Logan had to do was find him.

  Chapter 4

  Logan sat in his office the next morning. Chin in his hands. Elbows on the desk. Gazing vacantly at the computer screen in front of him. There were lights beeping anxiously on the office phone. Clients who had been waiting on hold. But for one of the first times, Logan didn’t see them. He only had eyes for the monitor.

  He’d started his search the night before—settling down in his study with a box of take-out and another glass of scotch. He wasn’t anticipating any problems. How many Dylan Stones could there possibly be? As it turned out—quite a lot. But when you narrowed down the age range and city of origin, he came up with three.

  One was an investment banker with four kids. One was a middle school teacher with a secret penchant for video games and Thai food. And one worked in construction.

  Logan’s had eyes glowed as he studied the paper printouts, no photos, just a basic composite sent to him by a man who worked in the legal department. With nothing to go on but blind instinct, he found himself making automatic parallels to himself—prioritizing them one by one. His bet was on the investment banker. They were twins, after all. That had to count for something, right? In terms of education and vocational direction, the banker was by far the most ambitious of the three. And a family man to boot. With a little
smile, Logan traced the edges of his profile, wondering absentmindedly if he had any nieces and nephews he didn’t know about.

  If it wasn’t the banker, then it was no doubt the teacher. Logan wasn’t too sure about what exactly was entailed in ‘construction,’ but unless the man ran his own construction company, he highly doubted they were related. No—the teacher would be fine. Noble, even. It was a thankless profession, and one the world needed more of. Yes, Logan could definitely get on board with the teacher. He could learn how to play video games. He liked Thai.

  But fate, it seemed, had other plans...

  It wasn’t the banker. It wasn’t the teacher. His Dylan was another thing entirely.

  The phone rang again. This time, his secretary Annalise’s voice crackled through the intercom along with it. “Mr. Chase? You have about ten people on hold, and the Assistant Trade Secretary from Japan just called back for the second time—”

  “Take a message,” Logan replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.

  There was a nervous pause on the other end. ‘Take a message’ wasn’t a part of Logan’s usual repertoire. The man was on point. Never putting off for tomorrow something that he could get done today. It was a mantra he had lived his life by.

  ...until this morning.

  “A...a message?” she repeated uncertainly. “Are you sure—”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” he answered briskly. “In fact, please tell the same to everyone waiting, and hold my calls for the rest of the day. I’m in the middle of something important.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  With nothing left to distract him, Logan turned his eyes back to the screen. A picture of a man was staring back, grinning widely at the camera. A man that looked exactly like himself.

  With a few major changes.

  Let it be said that Logan had never been on the various forms of social media. At least, not as a private citizen. His company had a page, but not him personally—and the company page was nothing he managed himself. He’d had to create an account just to check this third Dylan out. Finally, when all that was done, he had to wait for Dylan to accept his friend request. His only bit of luck was that he didn’t have to wait long.

  Because...this? He was in no way prepared for this.

  The man may look like him, but the two were nothing alike. Every single picture was with another girl. At another party. All in various stages of undress. Dancing, drinking, taking shots. In one particularly memorable shot, he was standing on top of a bar, with a cluster of glow sticks looped around his neck, and a pair of blond triplets hanging off of him. Not a single time did the camera not catch him both drunk and smiling. Not a single time, did he look like he was doing anything he would later regret.

  Logan was intrigued. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was himself in these photos. The two of them were identical twins down to the letter. Same sandy blonde hair. Same athletic frame. Same high cheekbones. Same blue eyes. It was like looking in a mirror into some parallel universe. Some alternate life he could have had.

  Yes, he was intrigued. But he was something else as well. Something he hadn’t been in a very long time. He was jealous.

  “Mr. Chase?”

  Logan jumped a mile and tilted down the top of his laptop—angling it towards himself so Annalise couldn’t see the screen. Her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and he fought back the urge to literally slap himself in the face.

  Really smooth, man. She probably thinks I’m looking at some kind of office porn.

  “Yes, Annalise—what is it?”

  A flicker of curiosity danced through her eyes, but she kept a strictly professional composure. “I was just coming to remind you that you have a meeting in the conference room in about five minutes. The Taiwanese presentation...?”

  “Yes, of course.” Logan pushed to his feet quickly, straightening out his tie. “I’ll be up in just a minute. Thank you.”

  She cast him another curious look, then vanished out the door—leaving him staring down at his own intoxicated face grinning back at him from the desk. He shut the computer without another glance and headed for the meeting, but not before sending off a quick email.

  It whizzed through the digital world, before landing in the inbox of a man named Bill Hellis. A private investigator Logan had used several times before. He specialized in opposition research, but occasionally investigated things of a more personal nature.

  This would certainly qualify. This was as personal as it got.

  Chapter 5

  “—which is why we were thinking of setting up both locations in Taipei, focus efforts—”

  Logan leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander, furrowing his brow with the occasional thoughtful frown so anyone watching would think he was still listening. In reality, he was having the same problem that plagued most of his generation—except that he was having it for the first time. He couldn’t take his mind off Facebook.

  Dylan had basic privacy settings on his account, enough that Logan had to digitally befriend him if he wanted to learn any information. But he’d also accepted the request without having any idea who Logan really was.

  What did that say about him? Was he friendly? Was he careless? Was he simply not paying attention, or perhaps he clicked the wrong button?

  “—more room to expand the adjacent developments, while maintaining a strict policy—”

  After he’d analyzed his mysterious brother from every possible angle, making inadvertent comparisons of their lives, Logan turned his mind to other things...

  Brigitte, his former girlfriend, had probably moved out of the house by now. He had left for the office even earlier than normal that day to let her pack up her things. The two of them had dated on and off for the better part of seven months, but it was clear that things were never going to work out between them.

  Brigitte was beautiful, but vapid. Nothing more than a pretty face. A pretty face that happened to be as high maintenance as an aspiring model from Orange County could be. She did very little to hide the fact that she was interested in Logan for three things: his money, his body, and his social position. Three things, but he was only able to give her two of them. Money and social standing were easy enough, but he was never home. Never left the office until the night was already half done. When he’d caught her cheating (curtesy of Bill Hellis), he was hardly surprised. The relationship might not have been fair to him, but it wasn’t fair to her either. The girl needed a man in her bed. He could hardly blame her for finding another in his absence.

  But Dylan...he wouldn’t have cared about any of that, would he? He probably wouldn’t even have a girlfriend—too much commitment. If he did decide to take the plunge, he wouldn’t have just one, he’d have about twelve—

  “Mr. Chase?”

  For the second time in less than an hour, Logan’s head jerked up in surprise. He cast a quick look around the table, only to see no less than two dozen pairs of eyes staring back at him, waiting for his response. A response he couldn’t give, seeing as he hadn’t been paying attention to the question. Fortunately, his right-hand man, Arnie Hacker, came to the rescue.

  “I know you weren’t wild about two resorts in the same city the last time you talked about it with me,” he said with a thoughtful frown, cueing in his boss while simultaneously wondering what could have possibly broken his legendary focus. “Have things changed?”

  “No,” Logan said quickly, before clearing his throat and following it up with a more dignified, “no. I’ve heard the arguments for both sides, gentlemen, but we’re going to continue on with one structure in Taipei, and one in Tainan.”

  The man sitting on his left shook his head, looking a little overwhelmed. “But the construction costs alone skyrocket the second you—”

  “It’s the richest cultural center for hundreds of miles,” Logan replied calmly. “If that means we pay a little more to keep with the general architecture, then so be it.”

  “Yes, but if you would jus
t—”

  “I’ve made my decision, Rob. It’s done.”

  And just like that, the meeting was over. Not only had Logan Chase built Skylight Resorts from the ground up, but he had long ago earned the respect of each of the movers and shakers on his board. If he’d made up his mind—that was the end of the discussion.

  Hands were shook. Farewells were said. And ten minutes later, Logan was back in his car—racing off toward home.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been there in the afternoon. Truth be told, the entire place looked quite different to him in the harsh light of the sun. It wasn’t just big, it was immense. Way too much space for just one person. Even more space now that Brigitte was gone.

  “Mr. Chase!” Millard came rushing out of the kitchen the second he stepped inside, brow creased with automatic concern. “What are you doing home so early? Is everything alright?”

  Before he could answer, the man came at him again.

  “Miss Pelnat has already left, if that who you were looking for.”

  A look of scarcely contained triumph flickered across the old man’s face, and he almost added, good riddance. By his estimation, there wasn’t a woman in the world who was good enough for the young man whose estate he worked day and night to maintain. The sooner this little hussy vacated the premises, the better.

  “But you look flushed,” he continued, frowning in concern. ‘Is everything—”

  “Everything’s fine,” Logan answered, handing off his coat and tie. “I think I’m just going to take dinner upstairs this evening—there’s some work I need to get finished. Thank you,” he added distractedly, as he climbed the stairs, “for seeing Brigitte off.”

  “I’m sorry you’re so sad. But I’m sure the right woman will come along.”

  “I’m not sad about her. I’m sad that I’m wasting my life away working.”

  “She said that’s why she left.”