The first light of dawn sipped through the sheer curtains of the room painting it in a soft, golden glow.
Ryan Morgan stirred beneath the silk sheets, his arm wrapped around the curves of a woman whose name he barely recalled. She murmured something in her sleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her breathing slow and even.
Ryan blinked, his blue-gray eyes adjusting to the morning light. He gently disentangled himself from her embrace, trying not to wake her. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, running his hand through his scattered hair. He surveyed the scene with a practiced detachment. The woman on his bed was beautiful, but her presence was already fading from his mind.
He stood barefoot on the plush carpet, his lean, muscular frame silhouetted against the panoramic windows that overlooked the city skyline. The world below was just waking up, but Ryan was already calculating the day ahead. He had meetings, decisions to make, a company to run. There was no time for sentimentality.
Ryan stepped into the ensuite bathroom, the marble tiles cool beneath his feet. The bathroom was a masterpiece of modern design-chrome fixtures. It had a rain shower large enough for two and a deep soaking tub that looked out over the city. He pressed a button on the wall and the shower hissed to life, steam gathering around him.
He stepped under the hot water, letting it slide over his body, washing away the remnants of last night's activity. The water was soothing, just the way he liked it. He scrubbed his face, running his hands through his short, dark hair. He exhaled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease for a moment.
Out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, he walked over to the mirror to stare at his reflection.
At thirty-two, Ryan was in the prime of his life. He was handsome, fit, and undeniably successful. His sharp jawline was filled by a day's worth of stubble, and the faint lines around his eyes spoke of late nights and relentless ambition. He had inherited his father's piercing eyes and his mother's cheekbones. It was a combination that had never failed to draw attention.
He reached for his grooming kit, applying a subtle cologne, trimming his beard, and brushing his teeth. Each movement was precise and followed in accordance. It was a ritual he had perfected over the years. There was comfort in routine, in control.
As he finished his morning routine, Ryan glanced once more at the woman still asleep in his bed. He couldn't remember her name. Jessica? Jennifer? Well, it didn't matter. She had been a pleasant company, but that was all. He had made sure she was on his "approved list," with no complications or expectations.
He had developed the "approved list" as a result of his past experiences with some of the ladies he had a one nightstand with. Some tried blackmailing him into a relationship, and some were overly emotional the next day after telling them to leave.
On one encounter, a lady who he had a one nightstand with, had gotten up in the morning to prepare him breakfast. She wore his clothes, acting like his girlfriend. That drew the line for him, resulting in the "approved list".
He dressed quickly, selecting a tailored navy suit from the walk-in closet that was larger than most people's apartments. The fabric was smooth against his skin, the cut immaculate. He fastened his cufflinks, a pair of platinum squares engraved with his initials. He checked his reflection one last time, satisfied, he left the bedroom closing the door softly behind him.
The mansion was a testament to his success. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, and a minimalist aesthetic that spoke of both wealth and restraint. The living room was spacious, with a sleek leather sofa, a state-of-the-art sound system, and a collection of modern art that had cost more than most people's homes.
The kitchen was a chef's dream. It had several stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, and a wine fridge stocked with bottles from around the world. Ryan rarely cooked, but he appreciated the beauty of the space, the way everything was perfectly arranged, perfectly controlled.
He walked to the kitchen, where James, his personal assistant, was already setting out a tray of fresh fruit, eggs, and coffee.
"Good morning, sir," James said, pouring a cup of black coffee and handing it to Ryan.
"Morning, James." Ryan took a sip, savoring the rich, bitter taste. "Any updates?"
James, a man in his late forties with a perpetually calm demeanor, handed over a tablet. "The market report is in. Asian markets are up, but there's some volatility in Europe. The board will want your thoughts on the new acquisition."
Ryan nodded, scanning the figures. "And the woman in my room?"
James barely blinked. "She's on your approved list. No complications last night."
"Good." Ryan set the tablet aside and picked up a fork, stabbing a slice of melon. "Make sure she's taken care of when she wakes up. Use the car to take her wherever she wants to go."
"Of course, sir." James hesitated. "Your father called earlier. He would like to speak to you before the board meeting."
Ryan's jaw tightened immediately. "Did he say what it was about?"
"No, sir. Just that it was important."
Ryan exhaled through his nose. "Fine. I'll call him in the car."
James nodded and retreated, leaving Ryan to his breakfast and his thoughts.
The city stretched out before him, a glittering metropolis that he had conquered through sheer force of will. Morgan Enterprises was one of the largest private equity firms in the world, and Ryan had built it into an empire through a combination of ruthless strategy and unrelenting drive. He had inherited the company from his father, but he had expanded it beyond anyone's expectation, that including his own.
But success came at a price. Ryan's relationships were limited, his trust in others was limited. He had learned early that everyone wanted something. It could be money, power, status and he had become good at giving people exactly what they expected, but nothing more. Women were no exception. He enjoyed their company, their beauty, their presence in bed, but he never let them close enough to matter, after her.
His phone buzzed bringing him out of his thought. It was a message from an old friend, inviting him to a party that weekend. Ryan typed a quick reply stating he would be there. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.
James reappeared, holding out Ryan's coat. "The car's ready, sir."
Ryan finished his coffee and stood, wearing his coat. "Let's go."
They took the elevator to the underground garage, where a sleek black limousine waited. The driver, a young man named Henry, nodded as Ryan and James approached.
"Good morning, Mr. Morgan."
"Morning, Henry." Ryan slid into the backseat, with James beside him. The car roared to life, driving out of the garage and into the morning traffic.
Ryan's phone buzzed again. His father's name flashed on the screen. He hesitated for a while, then answered. "Father."
"Ryan." The voice on the other end was cool, measured. "I trust you're ready for today's meeting."
"Always," Ryan replied, keeping his tone neutral.
"Good. The board is expecting you to address the rumors about the acquisition. The media is already speculating."
"I'm aware."
"And your social life? I trust you are not letting it interfere with business."
Ryan's grip tightened on the phone. "My personal life is just that personal."
"Everything you do reflects on the company, Ryan. You should do well to remember that."
Ryan bit back a retort. "Is that all?"
There was a pause. "Just remember who you are. And what's expected of you."
The line went dead. Ryan exhaled, pocketing his phone.
James glanced at him. "Is everything alright, sir?"
Ryan shrugged. "Just the usual. He's never satisfied."
James wisely remained silent.
The car weaved through the city, past skyscrapers and parks, until it pulled up in front of the Morgan Enterprises headquarters, a towering glass edifice that dominated the financial district. The lobby was a hive of activity, employees bustling in and out, security guards standing at attention. Ryan strode through the doors, nodding to the receptionist, who beamed at him.
"Good morning, Mr. Morgan!"
"Morning." He flashed her a charming smile, one that had her blushing as he passed.
The elevator took him up to the executive floor, where his office was situated. His assistant, Mrs Smith was already at her desk, organizing his schedule.
"Good morning, Mr. Morgan. The board is waiting in the conference room."
"Thank you, Mrs Smith" Ryan paused. " Are there any messages?"
"Several, sir. Mostly from the press. And a few from… admirers." She handed him a stack of notes, which he barely glanced at before tossing them onto his desk.
"Handle them, please."
"Of course, sir."
Ryan entered his office, pausing to take in the view. The city sprawled beneath him, a kingdom he ruled with an iron will. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before turning to the task at hand.
He reviewed the documents James had prepared, his mind already racing ahead to the meeting. The board wanted reassurance, and he would give it to them. After all, he was Ryan Morgan, the billionaire, playboy and master of his own destiny.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, it was James again.
"Sir, the board is assembled. They are ready for you."
Ryan straightened his tie and stood. "Let's not keep them waiting."
As he walked down the hall, he caught the admiring glances of several female employees. He smiled politely, but his mind was elsewhere. Women were a pleasant distraction, nothing more. He had learned long ago that love was a liability, a weakness he couldn't afford anymore.
The conference room doors opened, and the board members rose as he entered. Ryan took his seat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.
"Gentlemen," he said, his voice commanding. "Let's get started."
And with that, the meeting began.
As the meeting went on, Ryan's mind wandered. He remembered his first heartbreak, a girl in college who had used him for his family's connections. He had been naive then, believing in love and trust. But after that, he had built walls around his heart, determined never to be hurt again.
He had watched his parents' marriage crumble under the weight of expectations and infidelity, he had seen his father's coldness, his mother's quiet despair. Love was a fairy tale, he had decided that control was what mattered.
The conference room emptied, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive colognes and murmuring. Ryan remained at the head of the table, his fingers placed at the tip of the table, his eyes fixed on the cityscape. His phone buzzed, it was another message, another demand. He ignored it.
James appeared at the door. "Sir, your guests have arrived in your office."
Ryan nodded. "Thank you, James. Send them in."
He stood, smoothing his tie, and strode back to his office. The room was already set for lunch. Crystal glasses, fine china, and a spread of gourmet dishes that would make a Michelin star chef proud. Seated around the table were the men Ryan trusted the most, his "inner circle."
There was Mark, his CFO, a man with a razor-sharp mind and a dry sense of humor. Beside him was Daniel, head of operations, whose calm demeanor belied a ruthless efficiency. And at the far end, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin, was Lucas Reynolds, his oldest friend and the only person who dared to tease him.
"Let's hear it," Lucas said, raising his glass in a mock toast. "How many hearts did you break last night, Ryan?
Ryan smirked, pouring himself a glass of sparkling water. "None that weren't willing."
The men chuckled, used to his reputation. Mark cleared his throat, steering the conversation back to business. "The board seems satisfied, but the media is still sniffing around the acquisition. We need a statement."
Ryan nodded. "Draft something neutral. No promises, no denials. Let them speculate."
Daniel leaned forward. "And the competition? They are already making moves."
"Let them," Ryan said, cutting into his steak. "They don't have the resources we do or the patience."
The conversation flowed. It was filled with market trends, new investments, potential risks. Ryan listened, interjected, made decisions. He was in his element here, surrounded by men who understood the game, who didn't expect anything from him but results.
But beneath the surface, a familiar restlessness gnawed at him. He glanced at his phone again, still no message from his father. Not that he cared. Not really.
Lucas caught his eye. "Are you alright, man? You seem distracted."
Ryan shrugged. "Just the usual. Father's on my case again."
Mark snorted. "When isn't he?"
Daniel nodded sympathetically. "You would think he would be satisfied by now. The company has never been stronger."
Ryan didn't reply. He didn't need to. They all knew the story, the expectations, the pressure, the never ending quest for perfection.
The lunch ended as it always did, with a toast to success, a round of handshakes, and the unspoken understanding that they were all in this together, for as long as it suited them.