“I heard you, for crying out loud!” Cong snapped.
Angela’s head snapped upwards, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, what did I just say then?”
Cong opened his mouth, but no words came out. It took a few seconds, but he realised he hadn’t heard a damn thing she said. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. “Sorry, Angela. Would you mind repeating?”
Keeping her face deadly neutral, Angela continued staring at him. “I said, tomorrow you have a meeting with Mr Wei from Hubei Steel Corporation, and you cannot cancel on him again. A manager from Fisher’s Pharmaceuticals has an appointment with you straight after that, and then you have a boardroom meeting with the lawyers on Thursday.”
“Fine,” Cong panted, sweat dripping into his eyes.
“Oh, and don’t forget to arrive at the children’s hospital on Friday by ten am to open the new wing. I’ve scheduled you there for two hours as you’ve got a meeting with the managers from the European market afterwards.”
“Cancel it,” Cong demanded, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his arm.
Angela cocked her head. “Are you sure? You said you wanted to discuss the Par-”
“Cancel it,” he told her, the sting of command layering his tone. At the sight of her brow arching at his voice, Cong took a deep breath and reminded himself not to snap at her. Angela was one of the few people he depended on, and one of the few who had the balls to stand up to him. It wasn’t wise to piss her off. “Sorry. I’m just a little on edge today.”
“So we see,” came a new voice from behind the door. Zhihuan’s face peered behind the wood, amusement etched across his face. “Is it safe to come in or do I need to run and grab my armour?”
“You’re more likely to run home to your mother crying in her apron if there was a real war in here,” Angela scolded. “You’re safe.”
“Great. Any chance of coffee while I’m here?” Zhihuan asked, walking up to Cong’s desk and placing a large folder down.
“No,” Angela replied in her matter-of-fact tone.
“Why not?”
A veil of amusement fell over Angela’s face, her lips curving into a smile. “Because Melissa has called and specifically told me that no one in this building is permitted to give you any coffee. She’s also informed me that if I do serve you coffee, she’s going to pack your bags and make you live with me. Sorry, Zhihuan, but there’s just no way on earth that’s happening. I’ll bring you some green tea instead.”
As Angela strode out of the office, Zhihuan shook his head. “That woman is going to be the death of me,” he muttered.
“Which one?” Cong asked, still pounding away on the treadmill that faced the window. The view over Macau was great, but he’d stopped seeing it ages ago.
“Angela. Melissa. Both of them. Shit, women. Why do we do this to ourselves?” he sighed, walking over to the sofa by the window and sank into them. A cloud of exasperation hovered over him.
“Don’t ask me,” Cong bit.
At his tone, Zhihuan glanced over at his boss, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hot date didn’t turn out so great, huh?”
Grunting, Cong shook his head. “That’s to say the least.”
“What happened. She not give up the goods after one fancy dinner?”
“David Jenkins turned up.”
“Jenkins? Didn’t we close on that deal last month?”
“Yeah, but it seems as though he’s only just read the contract. He was a bit pissed that he’s lost everything.”
Zhihuan shrugged. “What do you expect if you don’t read the contract thoroughly? He had plenty of time to get his lawyer to read over it and explain everything.”
Cong forced his legs to keep moving, even though his muscles screamed at him to stop. “Tara was there when he turned up. He called her a whore, so I punched him.”
“Ah, the gallant gesture,” Zhihuan laughed. “And she still didn’t swoon in your arms?”
Cong eventually gave into his body’s demands and turned off the treadmill, his muscles sighing in relief when he stopped moving. Slumping over the top, Cong shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. What do you want, Zhihuan?”
The lawyer crossed one ankle over his knee. “Fujimara called. He’s willing to sign the contracts straightaway.”
“At what discount?”
“Twenty-three percent with no positions for his sons in the company.”
“Fine. Get the contracts finalised and get this damn project wrapped up. I’m sick of it now.”
Silence invaded the room for a minute, but for Cong, it seemed like an eternity. “Anything else you want me to do, Cong?”
Shaking his head, Cong finally stood up and reached for the towel. “No.”
Zhihuan got to his feet. A strange look passed over his face, but he remained silent as he grabbed the file on Cong’s desk and strode out of the office. As soon as Cong heard the click of the door, his shoulders slumped.
He’d been snapping at everyone today. From the doorman at his apartment block, the receptionist at the office, Angela, and now Zhihuan. What the hell was wrong with him?
Fine, so he didn’t get laid last night. That didn’t matter in the slightest. Just one look in Tara’s eyes confirmed that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, but he could understand her apprehension. After all, she’d not long discovered her boyfriend cheating on her with a family member, and he was someone she’d met on holiday. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have time to seduce her. She was still here for nearly two weeks, and he’d send her off to Hong Kong with a smile on her face, and an ache between her thighs. Not a problem.
So why was there one?
David fucking Jenkins.
That bastard had ruined everything. Cong could still hear her voice in his mind even now. As soon as they’d turned the corner and left his moaning behind, Tara had to probe into the situation.
“You hit him!” she’d said, her voice laced with alarm.
“He called you a whore,” Cong gritted out. “He’s lucky that’s all I did.”
“You don’t go around hitting over people for saying nasty names, Cong!” Tara admonished as he continued to pull her away, but then she went quiet as she thought. “Is it true? About what he said. Did you really take everything from him?”
“No,” Cong replied. “Not really. David’s company was starting to go under, and his debts were climbing. I offered to buy the business out from him. It’s what I do. I take under-productive companies and turn them into thriving companies once more, but occasionally it is more profitable to sell them off, piece by piece.”
“And in David’s case?” Tara probed.
Releasing a sigh, Cong finally stopped walking and faced Tara, keeping his hand firm on her arm. “In David’s case, it made more financial sense to rip it apart and sell it off. The current companies are doing extremely well with new owners.”
“So why is he saying you took everything from him?” she asked.
“Because he didn’t read his contract thoroughly. Look, when you’re given a large amount of money from another business to buy you out because you screwed it into the ground, you check the contracts. David wasn’t careful with his money and amassed a load of debts. The money I offered him was reasonable for what it was, but I get the feeling it wasn’t enough to pay off everything he owed. That’s not my fault, nor is it my concern.”
“Why do I get the feeling there is more to this then?” Tara asked, an expression of bewilderment marring her features. Her green eyes shined with disapproval, and it surprised Cong that sent a massive blow to his gut.
Cong faced her, his eyes refusing to leave hers despite not liking what he saw in them. “There’s always more to business. It’s not a pretty world, Tara. It’s hard and it’s ruthless, veiled with a layer of politeness.”
“I’m not sure if I like the business world,” Tara muttered, tearing her eyes away from his. “Sounds rather cold and depressing to me
.”
“It’s not for everyone,” Cong agreed, trying to keep his tone steady, but every bone in his body, from his head to his toes, felt as if they were being ground into powder under her words. “But I won’t lie to you, Tara. I am ruthless in the boardroom.”
Her attempt at a smile faltered as she stared into the distance. “She said that about you.”
Puzzlement caused Cong’s arches to raise. “Who said what?”
“The waitress in the restaurant,” Tara explained. “She said that everyone knows you’re ruthless.”
The punches kept coming. “She’s right,” he finally said, watching Tara’s eyes drop to the ground. After a moment of uneasy silence, Cong tried to smile, but the effort never made it past his lips. “Do you still want to go for a drink?”
Tara shook her head, brushing tendrils of red hair from her face. “I think it’s time for me to go back to the hotel. I’ve got to be up early for a sight-seeing trip.”
Cong could still feel his shoulders sagging with disappointment at the sound of dejection in her tone, but had escorted her silently back to the Orchid Hotel nonetheless. Watching her climb out of the limo and into the building without turning around had felt as though an invisible hand had rained a thousand icy fists to his stomach.
Standing to his full height, Cong stared out of the window. His office sat on the top floor, the views towards the water usually magnificent, but today they were coated with a layer of gloom in his eyes. Where was she today? At another temple, a museum, a park? Out of all the women he’d ever known, why was it that she was the only one who called to him?
Sure, there had been other women who he had pursued, who he had fancied. Some had been married, some single, some he didn’t even care to know what their relationship status’ were. It wasn’t as if they actually mattered in the grand scheme of things. But with Tara … it was as though the urge to draw closer to her was something he couldn’t deny. She was a magnet, pulling him closer.
“No,” Cong muttered, pulling his eyes away from the view. Grabbing the back of his t-shirt, he pulled the material over his head, chucked it onto the treadmill, and strode into the bathroom located in the back of his office.
Switching on the shower, Cong pulled his sweats off and stepped in, allowing the water to cascade over his skin. The steam rose and filled his senses, but couldn’t wash away his thoughts.
Memories of women flashed before his eyes. Beautiful women from all over the world who’d willingly gone to his bed. Chinese, Japanese, American, Portuguese, Egyptian, all attracted by the lure of his money. Cong knew that he was attractive, but it was his money and power that sent those women quivering underneath him. They loved the flowers, the expensive dinners, the lavish gifts, but when push came to shove, none of them would stay if he was broke.
Would Tara?
The question popped into Cong’s head, taking him by surprise. Resting his arms on the tiles, with the hot spray flowing over his head, he thought about it. Would Tara be attracted to him if he didn’t have anything to his name? Yes. He could still see the way she had looked at him in the airport, and the way her breath caught as he held her in his arms told Cong money didn’t matter to her. She was a school teacher, for crying out loud; no one went into teaching for the money, no matter what country they lived in. They did it for the love of it.
That sounded more like Tara.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shampooing his hair, and then rinsing. The damn woman was on his mind constantly, with her clumsy ways, her red hair, and those mesmerising jade green eyes. He hated seeing the disappointment in them, and there was no denying that she wasn’t keen on his ruthlessness. But what did she expect? He was a businessman. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything illegal. Sure, some may call it unethical, but that’s what it took in today’s world.
The world revolved around money. Businesses couldn’t operate without money. Hospitals couldn’t help people without money. Schools couldn’t teach without the funds to pay for staff and equipment. Love making the world go around was just something to sing and write about. It wasn’t for men like him.
He was the Master of Macau, after all.
No, it was time to forget about Tara and her gentle ways. It was time to get back to the real world. The world where there were deals to be made, contracts to be signed, money to be placed in the bank. Yeah, there was no denying that Tara was beautiful. Those curves just ached for his body to explore, but there were dozens of women he could call right now. Within an hour, he’d have some beautiful woman beneath him, moaning his name, their nails scratching down his back, trying to make their mark on him.
Turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around his hips, Cong walked out of the bathroom and into the dressing area. His phone sat on the side, and Ruomei’s name flashed on the screen. The message popped up.
Room 1442, the Mandarin Oriental. I’m naked and waiting for you.
Tara was just another woman.
Tara
This park is nothing like the ones back home, Tara thought as she wandered leisurely amongst the garden. The formal setting was stunning to behold, with exotic flowers of every colour and size growing all around. Large boulders stood nestled between small hills and foliage, crossed by pathways designed to explore every inch of the area.
A slight breeze swirled its way around Tara’s body, a welcome relief from the hot sun. Pale pink petals danced in the air before slowly falling to the ground beside her feet. Beams of sunlight caressed her skin, once creamy in colour but now darkening to a warm golden tone. Dozens of people were enjoying the park alongside her; children of all ages were kicking a ball up in the air using their feet, while several older people practised Tai Chi opposite them. The whole atmosphere was one of quiet enjoyment. Tara sighed. Macau was marvellous. There was simply nowhere like it, just like Cong said.
Cong. It had been three days since she’d last heard from him. No phone calls, no messages, no unexpected run-ins with him at the hotel. It was as if he just didn’t exist.
And if she was honest with herself, she missed it.
He had a charm about him that was alluring. He wasn’t like anyone Tara had met. OK, she knew that you should never compare two people, but put Cong next to Greg and Greg just washed away. It was amazing how much the trip had revealed about her relationship with Greg than what she thought it would. Such as how bored she’d been, not really doing anything with each other, and a severe lack of communication. Why had she stayed for so long?
Convenience. Reliability. A relationship with Greg was something she’d just come to expect.
Maybe Carly was the best thing to have happened to them. It certainly got her out of a boring relationship where they just carried on just for the sake of convenience. Meeting Cong had shown her what she really wanted – passion. Excitement. Butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Cong had undoubtedly shown her all three.
But he hadn’t called.
Disappointment washed over her like a cloud looming over the clear bright sky. It wasn’t as if she came here for a holiday fling, but it had given her a taste of what she needed. She’d never go back to boring and convenience ever again.
You won’t see him again, so your best bet is to forget him, and just move on. He’s probably moved on to another woman. Maybe this one he met at the train station, or even a bus stop, the annoying voice in her laughed.
She hated that damn voice.
Walking along, the faint sounds of music and voices floated along the breeze. A large round of applause sailed through the air. Couples and young families eagerly made their way towards it. Not knowing why, Tara carried on behind them until she found herself at the back of a large crowd.
All around her, people were celebrating. Music soaked the air, balloons bounced on the wind, and a riot of colour flooded the entire area. The music lifted the crowd’s spirit, urging them to dance and move to the festive beat. Fathers’ carried young children on their shoulders, co
uples both young and old held hands as they weaved in and out of the crowd. The air was soaked with various scents, sweet and savoury aromas causing Tara’s stomach to rumble and her mouth to water.
Stalls were set up alongside the road, each one offering some kind of activity or food to try. Several women painted the faces of young children, many of whom she could see had a disability of some sorts. A little girl sat in a bright red wheelchair, the matching red ribbons in her pigtails fluttering in the breeze as one woman painted tiger stripes on her face. A boy in leg braces walked past her, holding two balloons in his hand, quickly followed by whom Tara assumed were his parents, their eyes misty, and smiles etching across their faces as they looked at him. Another stall offered some sort of rice dish, a spicy scent wafting up towards the sky as people waited to be handed a bowl of steaming food.
Tara walked forward, a smile curving on her face as she took in the sights and sounds. She loved festivals of every kind. The last time she had gone to one was the year before, a Medieval fair held at a grand country estate near Guildford. Dressed in old costumes borrowed from the school’s drama club, she and Cassie had enjoyed eating suckling pig and watching knights in armour fight for the honour of the women in the crowd. Greg had stayed at home, working on some accounts. She’d had a blast with Cassie though.
Pushing her way through the throng, Tara soaked in the atmosphere. Soon she found herself standing in front of a podium, sitting opposite the entrance to a hospital. Red ribbons and balloons floated in the breeze, adding to the vibrancy of the festivities. A gust of wind whooshed past her, rustling a banner to the side of where she stood.
A banner with Cong’s face on it.
The image hit her like a pebble in the eye. There he was, a wide smile showing brilliant white teeth, and those whiskey-hued eyes staring back at her.
“He did this, you know.”
Tara turned around sharply at the voice. Glancing down, she gazed at a teenage girl sitting in a black wheelchair with yellow stripes. “I’m sorry?” she said.
Intoxication Page 8
