The Zillionaire's wrath

CHAPTER 7: The Dawn of the Zillionaire

The sharp, annoying sound of a bell dragged me from a dreamless sleep. I tore open my heavy eyelids, the luxury of the master suite still feeling like a hallucination.

As I adjusted to the light, I realized I wasn’t alone. A woman stood by the bed, clad in nothing but a provocative red bra and matching lace panties. She moved with a liquid, sexy grace, her eyes locked onto mine with a hunger that was impossible to mistake.

"Breakfast is ready, Mr. Rowland," she cooed, her voice a sweet, sensual melody.

She set the trolley down, and I couldn't help but watch the captivating jiggling of her cleavage as she leaned over. When she turned to leave, she made sure to exaggerate the sway of her hips, her gaze lingering just long enough to see me tracking the movement of her body. 

I sighed when I gulped down a cocktail and its fervor spun in my gut.

Before the first girl had even cleared the doorway, a second woman, dressed in an identical, scandalous ensemble, stepped in. She greeted me with a shy, knowing smile.

"Sorry, who are you?" I asked, feeling my heart rate spike.

"I’m here to set your bath, Mr. Rowland," she replied, her tone dropping into a sultry, suggestive whisper. "And if you’d like me to provide a scented soak, I am fully at your disposal."

"I'm alright," I stammered.

The moment she disappeared into the bathroom, I bit my tongue, cursing myself. You idiot, Henry!

I groaned, rubbing my face. I was now a trillionaire, yet I was still struggling to drop the habits of a man who’d lived in the gutter.

The bedroom door opened again, and Steve Parker strolled in, looking entirely unbothered by the staff's behavior. I beckoned him over, my voice sharp. "What in hell’s name is going on in this house, Steve? Why are there women walking around half-naked?"

Steve chuckled, patting my shoulder. "Everyone is trying to impress the new boss, Henry. Especially the ladies. They seem to have a particular affinity for your status."

"This is absurd," I muttered, though I couldn't deny the rush of power it gave me.

"It’s your first day as the head of a massive enterprise. The awkwardness is expected, but you’ll grow into it," Steve said, reaching into his tailored jacket. He pulled out a sleek, black card with intricate golden embroidery hugging the edges. "Your limitless black card. With this, you can acquire anything on this planet. Or, simply call your new secretary, Maria Curry. You’ll meet her when we fly to the headquarters today."

"Wait, fly?" I asked, utterly stunned. "Where are we going?"

"The Zillionaire Dynasty isn't headquartered in New York, Henry. It’s in Memphis," Steve replied, enjoying the sheer awe on my face. "And we’re flying in your personal jet."

The hangar was a massive, exotic cave of steel and glass. A huge Boeing BBJ 777-8 sat waiting, and my breath hitched when I saw my name—Henry Rowland’s Boeing—painted in elegant, bold lettering on the tail. 

It wasn’t a dream. This was my life.

We climbed the stairs into a cabin that looked more like a five-star hotel than an aircraft. I was dressed in a three-piece charcoal suit that fit like armor. Steve sat across from me, a leather folder in his lap.

 For the duration of the flight, he fed me information, briefing me on every key player in the enterprise. I felt my brain straining under the weight of the data, but I knew the importance of the first impression. I couldn't afford to look like the boy who had been dumped in a hallway just twenty-four hours ago.

When the jet touched down on the rooftop helipad of the tallest skyscraper in Memphis, the wind whipped around us. I kept my face rigid, my expression a mask of indifference.

"Remember, you’re the boss, sir." Steve reminded me.

I shot him a confident look. "Call me Henry, Steve."

He grinned. "Understood, Henry. Heads up."

We walked toward a pair of massive glass doors. It was only then that the realization hit me. "Did we just land on a fucking rooftop?" I whispered.

Steve laughed. "Everything you see—this entire building, the ground it sits on, the very air in this city—it's yours."

We descended to the lobby, the elevator doors sliding open to reveal a sea of faces. The room was packed. Men in sharp, bespoke suits and women in elegant, commanding blazers stood in perfect, reverent silence. They were more than just employees; they were my subjects.

"Wait for them," Steve murmured.

Four men, clearly high-ranking executives, stepped forward, accompanied by a woman whose beauty stopped me dead in my tracks. They bowed in unison. I shook their hands, maintaining a cold, stoic silence, just as Steve had coached me. When the woman stepped forward, her eyes were an intense, piercing green that seemed to see straight through my armor.

"This is Maria Curry, sir," Steve said, his voice unusually strained. "She will be your secretary and personal assistant. She handles all your logistics, documents, and private communications."

When I took her hand, a jolt of electricity surged through my veins. It wasn't just physical attraction; it was a connection that felt almost predestined. 

She didn't blink as she held my gaze, and I knew right then—this woman was going to be the most dangerous and essential piece of my new empire.