Untouched Until Her Ultra-Rich Husband. Dani Collins
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BORN IN THE Year of the Dragon, Gabriel Dean was dominant, ambitious, passionate and willing to take risks. He jumped for no one.
His signature detachment, however, was not impervious to his grandmother’s ringtone.
The distinctive tinkle of a brass tea bell might have struck some as a sign of affection. And yes, he had seen her shake such a bell on two of the three occasions he had spoken to her in person, but sentiment was not a gene either of them possessed.
No, the bell was a practical choice, being odd enough to draw his attention no matter what was going on around him. Mae Chen’s missives were financial in nature, time sensitive and always lucrative. He didn’t need more money, but he hadn’t joined the eleven zeroes club at thirty by ignoring opportunities to make more.
Therefore, at the first peal, he held up a finger to pause the roundtable discussion of an energy takeover that would make him the de facto owner of a small country. He turned his titanium smartphone onto its custom-made back and touched the sapphire crystal screen.
Transmitted from Luli: Your grandmother has experienced a medical event. Her instructions in such case are to promptly advise you that you are her designated heir. Contact details for her physician are below.
That was new information.
In one fluid move, he tagged the doctor’s number, picked up the phone and rose to leave without explanation. He moved with purpose from the room, more disturbed by the label heir than by his grandmother’s condition.
For one thing, Mae was far too bellicose to suffer anything for long, particularly ill health. She would be on her feet before this call was picked up.
As for Gabriel being her heir, she wouldn’t stipulate such a thing without attaching a symphony’s worth of strings. She had been trying to maneuver him into a beholden state for two decades. It was the reason he had kept his interest in her fortune objective and made no assumptions about his entitlement to it. He religiously returned her invitations to invest with equally advantageous opportunities of his own. Tit for tat, scoop for scoop. No obligations incurred on either side beyond reciprocal courtesy.
“A stroke,” the doctor advised him seconds later. “It’s unlikely she will survive.”
Her transfer to the private clinic had been swift and discreet, the doctor continued.
“I expect this will cause ripples through the financial districts when it’s announced? I didn’t know you were her grandson.”
While Gabriel’s agile brain sifted through the implications of his grandmother being incapacitated, possibly disappearing from his life altogether, the inquisitiveness of the physician’s tone penetrated. He could hear the man’s thoughts buzzing like an annoying mosquito. Buy? Sell? Were there properties that could be snatched up before they were officially on the market? How could the fine doctor take advantage of this news before anyone else?
Thanks to their mutual exchange of information over the years, Mae had expanded from relatively stable investments in real estate to tech and renewable energy, precious metals and that fickle mistress—oil. None of that could be left without a sitter.
Gabriel assured the doctor he would be there as soon as possible. He messaged his executive assistant to reschedule the meeting he’d abandoned. He also told her to clear his calendar and notify his pilot to ready the jet. As he headed to the elevator, he glanced at the nearest face at a desk and said, “My car, please.”
The woman quickly put her call on hold and his chauffeured Rolls-Royce Phantom arrived at the curb as he pushed through the revolving door at the bottom of his building.
The humidity of a New York summer hit him in the face, but it would be monsoon rains in Singapore. His butler kept his jet packed for all climes and occasions, though. His grandmother kept a room at her house for him, not that he had ever used it. Invitations had come periodically, maybe to discuss the fact she was designating him her heir. He also owned a building of flats in that city. The top one was designated for his use, so he never took his grandmother up on—
“Gabriel!” A woman moved into his path and dipped her sunglasses to reveal her fake lashes and waxed brows. “I thought you might like to take me to lunch. It’s Tina,” she reminded after a beat where he only stared, trying to place her. She splayed her hand on the upper swells of her breasts where they were revealed by her wide-necked blouse. “We met at my father’s retirement party last weekend. You said you liked my song.”
He must have been speaking out of politeness because he had no recollection of her voice, her father or the party.
“I’m traveling,” he dismissed, and stepped around her.
If there was one thing he needed less than more money, it was another social climber throwing herself at him.
He slid onto a cool leather seat and his driver closed him into the air-conditioned interior.
Gabriel glanced at the square face of his gold Girard-Perregaux and calculated the approximate time until he would land.
Such affectations as vintage watches and Valentino briefcases meant nothing to him, but appearances mattered to everyone else. He always played to win, even at “who wears it best?” so he ordered hand-sewn suits in rare wools like vicuña and qiviut. He had his leather shoes lined with the softest materials when they were custom cobbled in Italy. He hung all of it off a body that he ruthlessly kept in peak athletic condition.
He wore sunscreen and moisturized.
And he genuinely didn’t care that folding his grandmother’s net worth into his own would tip him into the exalted echelon of world’s first trillionaire. All it meant, quite inconveniently, was more work—yet another thing he didn’t need.
His grandmother was his only relative of note, however, despite being both strange and estranged. He might lack strong feelings toward her or her money, but he did feel a responsibility to preserve her empire. He respected what she had built in her seventy years. He might be progressive by nature, but he didn’t tear down institutions for the sake of it.
He flicked back to the original message and brought the phone to his chin as he dictated a text.
Who is Mae’s business manager?
Transmitted from Luli: I assist Mrs. Chen in managing her transactions. May I help with a specific inquiry or instruction?
Artificial intelligence was so delightfully passive-aggressive, always deferential when it was being obstructive.
Send me the contact details of the man or woman who carries out Mae’s personal banking transactions.
Transmitted from Luli: I perform those tasks. How may I help?
Gabriel bit back a curse. Once this news was released and his connection to Mae Chen made public, a global circus would erupt around her financial holdings. The clock was already ticking, given her doctor had learned of their connection.
He switched gears and began sending instructions to his own team of advisors and brokers to reach out to hers. Once he was on the ground, he would learn exactly who ran things for Mae Chen and firmly take the reins from him.
* * *
“Luli.” The butler introduced her last, since she had deliberately positioned herself at the end of the line of staff, after the housemaids and cook. She was practically standing around the corner of the house where vines grew against the wall that ensured the privacy of Mae Chen’s colonial-era mansion.
His mansion now.
“You’re human.”
If she was, Gabriel Dean was the first to notice in her twenty-two years of existence.
Of course, Luli experienced very human reactions as she shook hands with Mae’s grandson, bowing slightly