Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Your daily papers, sir.” My driver handed them to me as he opened the back door of the town car. “Interesting headlines today.”
“I doubt it.”
I unfolded the stack as he pulled onto the street, groaning as I looked over the bold and black words.
Mister New York—Rumor Report
Preston Parker of Parker Hotels (our very own Mister New York for the eighth year in a row) was caught leaving his penthouse with model Yara Westinghouse. This was days after being seen with Marsha Avery and weeks after being seen with Hanna Bergstrom.
Our reporter stopped him outside of his condo to ask if any of the flings were serious, and he responded with a “Get the fuck off my property.”
As always, we doubt the man will ever settle down with one woman, but he does make our annual October cover look stunning.
Ruthless CEO, Preston Parker, Buys Sonoma Hotel Chain, Fires Top Management
Arrogant and ruthless hotel mogul, Preston Parker, has made his most heartless move yet. Once again, he courted a hotel chain for months—pretending as if there would be a genuine brand merger, but he has (not so shockingly) fired all of the current employees. The Parker Hotel International Press team has revealed that the Sonoma Hotels will soon be luxury hotels.
Mister New York, Preston Parker, Fathers a Secret Child
A mystery woman who claims to have had a one-night stand with Preston Parker is insisting that her two-week-old daughter is his. She’s seeking five hundred thousand a month in child support and is insisting that he pay her hospital bills.
What the fuck?
I tossed the last paper to the side and focused on the other two, shaking my head at every unverified word. The utter laziness in the headlines was beginning to irk me to my core.
Reporters these days were willing to write anything to sell their papers, and they had yet to send me a check for all the copies I sold for them.
In the past, I was beyond ruthless—gutting hotels for the sake of making sure they never competed with my own and buying properties to make sure no one else would, but those days were long gone. Being at the top of my industry for over a decade meant I didn’t have to be as merciless, and it also meant I didn’t have much to celebrate.
The endless parties on my yachts, the over the top parties on my rooftops had lost their appeal over the years, and the only reason I continued to be seen with supermodels was to distract the media from whatever business deal I was sealing behind the scenes.
If they cared to look a bit closer, they’d see that everything in my life was now a permanent stage of déjà vu, so much so, that I could predict all the conversations I had with people and nothing surprised me anymore. I kept to myself, never made friends, and kept tabs on all my enemies.
Since my relationship with my family was nonexistent, I buried myself in work and expected everyone around me to do the same. If I was capable of working a minimum of one hundred hours a week, they were capable as well. If I didn’t need to sleep, they didn’t need to either.
When I finally arrived at my headquarters, I took a second to admire the silver and grey “P” that was engraved in the center of the marble lobby. I waited to see if my executive assistant would meet me with the required morning reports and my favorite coffee, but three minutes passed, and nothing came.
Of course …
Annoyed, I took the elevator up to my office and was immediately greeted by the floor’s lead receptionist, Cynthia.
“Good morning, Mr. Parker!” She was always too perky for the morning hours. “How are you today?”
“The same as I was yesterday. Do I have any calls waiting?”
She didn’t answer. She just smiled and stared at me, batting her big brown eyes every few seconds.
“Do I have any calls waiting?” I repeated. “Any new files to sign off for morning delivery?”
She still didn’t answer.
“Is there any particular reason why you’re staring at me like that instead of answering my questions?”
“I’ll reply to your questions when you reply to mine.” She lowered her voice. “I texted your personal phone last night. Why didn’t you answer?”
“Because I blocked your number three weeks ago.”
“I was trying to send you a picture that I took on my vacation,” she said. “I wasn’t wearing anything but a bikini bottom.”
“I’m expecting a call from the Rush Estate this morning.” I refused to continue this conversation. “Can you make sure it gets routed to my second line, so I can record it, please?”
“The picture made me look like a supermodel,” she said. “I know you used to date supermodels, right? According to all those Rumor Reports anyway.”
“I’m also expecting a file delivery from the new Berkley team. You have my permission to sign for it.”