Chased By The Billionaire

One

[Please check Author's Notes for warnings about s****l content. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!]

“6 foot tall and weighs around 68 kilograms. Exact date of birth, unconfirmed. Current age, 27 years old. Status, retired last year. Previous agency position, Top Operations Officer. Languages known, English, Spanish, Cantonese, Italian, Japanese, Korean and French. He has black belts in taekwondo and judo, but he is—”

“Stop,” Green held up a hand and leaned forward. “Did you just say he retired last year? He’s 27 years old.”

Damian nervously adjusted his spectacles and checked the file once again. He had been tasked to get a list of Air Agency's—AKA Double A's—finest operatives. He was painstakingly able to do so due to connections he had forged, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why it was that within a pile of eligible candidates, his 53-year old, ill-tempered employer, Stanley Green, decided to pick that one out. “Yes, sir. It says right here, he retired last year.”

Green impatiently motioned for his secretary to hand over the folder, and he immediately complied—even though he knew that Green wouldn’t see anything else he didn’t know. “Do they know why?” Green raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“He reportedly said that he “just wants out.”” Damian cleared his throat. “That’s all anyone knows, sir.”

Green flippantly threw the folder on his desk, and it skidded towards the edge. “He is from the Garden City Orphanage, correct?”

Damian nodded. “Yes, sir. He was brought there as soon as he was born, and there are no records about his parents. He stayed in the system until he was adopted by the time he was 12 years old.”

“Hmm,” Green thoughtfully hummed as he ruminated. Damian stood still and waited for his employer to finish his train of thought. He wondered how the man's childhood was relevant to what Green was planning, but he didn’t dare ask.

Green leaned back on his chair with his legs crossed, looking at the news flashing on the TV. Damian glanced at the screen, and saw that it was about the latest release of HP Motors—the leading multinational automotive manufacturer.

“Led by one of the youngest billionaires, CEO Cassian Torque, HP Motors just continues to amaze us with their new model of—"

“Turn that off,” Green said through gritted teeth, and Damian quickly complied. Seeing Cassian Torque or HP Motors always put Green in a foul mood, and there was no question why. For years, Green's company had always played second to it, and this time, Green had had enough.

“Does Triple A—”

“Double A, sir,” Damian corrected him on instinct, which he immediately regretted as he stood at the receiving end of Green's fiery glare.

“Do they,” Green continued through gritted teeth, “know how to contact this ex-agent of theirs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Green flipped the folder open, and took out the photo of a 12-year old child. “What name does he go by now?”

“Alex Smith.”

“Alex, huh?” Green let out a breath of contempt. “Time to drag this kid out of retirement.”

***

“A whiskey on the rocks, and a Long Island for the lady. Make it quick, will you, pretty boy?”

The 30-something-year old man wearing a Cartier watch, and a Valentino wool jacket, slipped a few bills that was way too much for his order. In his arm was a lady dressed in equally expensive branded clothes, who looked too young and too pretty for him. One glance and it was obvious that the man was compensating for something with money. Probably the lacking looks department, his bad attitude towards servers, or his little mini-me underneath those ill-fitting pants.

Alex had encountered many men and women like him before, and if the situation permitted it, he wouldn’t think twice about jumping over the bar to make a fool out of him. But instead, he respectfully smiled as if his life depended on it—something he had also experienced a handful of times.

“Right away, sir,” was all Alex replied as he started preparing the order. The man started talking to his girlfriend about a yacht he just bought, but Alex could clearly see that the lady was eyeing him instead of her own partner.

This was no foreign occurrence to Alex. He had admittedly used his looks to get his way before, and he barely had to try. After all, with his height and body with 10% fat—thanks to all the daily training—coupled with his kind ocean-blue eyes and charming smile, he was the type to get a second look from random passersby as he walks down the street.

“Hey, you’re not listening to me,” the man snapped his fingers in front of his companion. “Are you checking him out?”

Alex smelled trouble, and so he immediately placed their order on the table. “Here you go, sir,” he interrupted, then moved a few feet away from them to collect an empty glass.

But the man didn’t let it go. “Hey, you, what’s your name?” he stood up from the stool and placed both hands on the table. Alex knew it was a classic case of asserting dominance.

“Sir, please keep your voice down. There are other guests,” Alex said in a calm tone. He had only been working as a bartender for less than a year, and the last thing he wanted was to get in trouble and be forced to move to another city yet again.

“I’m asking for your name, pretty boy,” the man repeated louder this time, causing a few people to look their way.

Inside Alex's head, he could already picture the dozens of ways he could incapacitate the man with a stirrer.

“You making eyes at my girl, huh?” the man growled, leaning closer that Alex could smell the mint gum he chewed after dinner.

Alex sighed and thought to himself, “Do it for the kids, do it for the house,” repeatedly. Out loud, he calmly said, “Sir,” but one of the bouncers beat him to it.

“Is there a problem here, Alex?” Gary asked, the muscles on his boulder-like arms tightening in a threatening way as he looked down at the customer.

“Nothing, Gary. This man was just leaving.” Alex smiled, knowing it would piss the man off. But with Gary's 6’4”, the man shrunk like a snail retreating to its shell.

“I’ll help you find the way out, then,” Gary motioned towards the exit, and the man could do nothing but glare and snatch his companion's wrist before stomping away.

Gary, even with his scary physique, discretely gave a thumbs-up towards Alex before following the two. Finally left in peace, Alex faced a woman who had just sat down.

“Vodka tonic,” she ordered, intertwining her fingers with long, red-painted nails on the table. Alex prepared her drink, and she slid over a bill. Without bothering to take a sip, she stood up and left. Warning bells were ready to sound in his head. He lifted the money and found a small piece of paper underneath with numbers written on it. He would’ve thought she was just trying to pick him up, but then he saw that instead of a name, under the number was signed “-AA".

“Damn it,” Alex murmured under his breath as he took off his vest and walked to the side of the bar. “Take over for a sec, will you, Tina? Thanks,” he said to his coworker before rushing to the exit.

As soon as he stepped out on the street, he looked for where the woman went, but instead, the loud customer from before stepped out of his car.

“Hey, you!” he yelled, pointing a finger and furiously walking towards Alex.

“I’m not in the mood right now,” Alex dismissively said, still trying to look down the street. The woman was wearing a red dress. She shouldn’t be difficult to find in the night.

The man continued to get close. “You’ve got some nerve—” but as soon as his fingers touched Alex's necktie, Alex's instincts kicked in. And the very next second, the man's face was pressed against the roof of his expensive car, and Alex was twisting his arms in a painful position behind his back.

“I told you,” he hissed into the man's ear, “I’m not in the f*****g mood.”

From inside the car, the lady only watched with amusement as her boyfriend screamed in pain. Alex pulled the man back, opened the backseat door, and shoved the man inside.

“Drive,” he snarled at the driver, who immediately stepped on the gas.

Alex gritted his teeth as the car sped away. He could normally handle his temper, but unexpectedly seeing the sign from the paper just shortened his fuse.

“Rich people, am I right?,” a woman's voice said from behind. Alex turned to see that she was the woman in the red dress.

“What do they want?” he fixed his tie as he discretely scanned the woman’s dress for weapons.

“Not them, specifically. It’s more of a special, external, out-of-books job.” The woman casually looked around to check for people. Thankfully, the street was often empty at that hour.

“Why me? There’s a lot of active agents out there,” Alex said, “I’m retired, remember? Or did they just gloss over that fact when they read my file?”

“I don’t know, but the client requested you specifically. Call the number and you’ll know more.”

“And if I don’t?” he threatened.

“I’m sure you’d want to take this once you hear what they’re offering. It's worth getting out of retirement for.” The woman knowingly smiled. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ace,” she said before turning away to leave.

Ace. No one had called him that for over a year. He was dubbed the nickname five years into the agency in recognition of being one of the fastest excelling agents with a high mission success rate. No one would’ve thought that the 22-year old, twice-orphaned kid back then would ever climb to such heights. But he did. Because he had nothing to lose.

Alex took out the piece of paper from his pocket and dialed the number. He was steadfast in his retirement; to begin living a good life while earning an honest living—even if that meant he couldn’t punch customers being jerks like the man before. Nevertheless, he decided to call just to know what the client could be offering that they thought would be enough to drag him back into the business.

“Mr. Alex Smith?” a man immediately answered.

“Let’s get to it. What are you offering?”

The man chuckled. “Down to business, I see? You seem busy for a man who’s retired. Although I fail to understand why you’ve done so when you had such a good track record in your agency.” Judging from his voice alone and the tone he was using, Alex could sense he was a man of power. Someone with people and money at his disposal.

“Tell me what you’re offering. You have a minute before I hang up,” Alex informed him. He was not in the mood for pleasantries.

“I’m offering two things of value for you in exchange for something as simple as information acquisition. The first is money,” he said, “three hundred thousand dollars. How does that sound? Do I have more than a minute now?”

Alex was surprised. That much money would help him acquire the land he'd been working so hard for. There would even be an excess that he could donate to the orphanage he grew up in. None of Double A's missions ever paid that much. If they did, then he would have retired sooner after 2 or 3. But still, he remained unconvinced. “Continue,” he said.

“Well, this one is even better. If this doesn’t drag you out of retirement, nothing will,” he smugly spoke.

“Just get on with it,” Alex sighed.

“I’m offering you the real reason behind the deaths of a certain Mrs. Joanne and Mr. Richard Wilkerson.”

Alex's breath hitched as soon as he heard those names. “Who are you?” he hissed at the phone. His resolve, shattered. He was sure it was no mere coincidence that the man offered such information to him, of all people.

The man laughed. “That got your attention, didn’t it?” he said. “You can call me Green.”

“How do you know about them?” Alex demanded accusingly.

“Now, now, don’t go jumping into conclusions, Alex. I just happened to be in the right time and right place when the accident happened all those years ago,” Green said. “Funny, isn’t it? How professors with no history of substance use, miraculously decided to drive on Road 29 all drugged and drunk. I’m sure you also thought the same.”

Alex could feel his jaw tighten. The Wilkerson's were a good couple that took him out of the orphanage when he was just 12 years old. They were the first and only family Alex ever had, and they were good parents to an orphan boy full of angst. But they died so suddenly when he was 17. All he remembered was the doorbell ringing and instead of his adoptive parents, cops showed up to deliver the bad news. Even then, he suspected that something smelled of foul play. He knew Joanne and Richard well, and they would never be so reckless. The police and news reports slandered the Wilkerson name that day, and a few days later, he was forced out of the house and back into the system as an underage teen. The insurance company also never gave him a penny, saying that death through reckless driving and substance abuse wasn’t covered.

Alex tightened the grip on his phone. “What is the mission?” he asked.

“I knew that ought to convince you,” Green said with a smile in his voice. “It’s simple. I need you to get me dirt from a certain CEO.”

“That sounds easy enough, so why choose me in the first place?” Alex asked. No matter how he looked at it, something didn’t sit quite right with him. There were tens of capable agents from Double A. “Why me, of all people?”

“It’s very simple, Alex,” Green told him, “it’s because you are the best. I need someone quick and reliable, and from what I hear, you were the Ace. And given what I’m offering you, I’m sure your loyalty will be on my side. A mere mission like this shouldn’t be much of a trouble for you. You’ll be enjoying your retirement soon enough.”

Alex considered his options. Even when he worked as an active agent with Double A's tech at his disposal, he wasn’t able to find anything about his adoptive parents' death. Nothing that would clear their names. Yet here comes a man named Green, out of nowhere, offering him the answers he’s been looking for after a decade of fruitless searching.

“So, what do you say?” Green asked.

Alex looked back at the bar he had been working at. He had built a life in this city for a few months. But with the events of that night, and with Double A and Green knowing where he was, he knew he couldn’t stay even if he wanted to.

“What’s the name of this person you want dirt on?” he asked.

“Cassian. Cassian Torque of HP Motors.” The name was unfamiliar, but HP Motors rang a bell. In fact, the man's car from before was from that manufacturer. All Alex knew about it was that it was a billion-dollar multinational company. A CEO of such might be well-guarded and difficult to get close to, but Alex had taken on worse missions before.

“Count me in,” he said.

“I look forward to working with you, Alex.”

***

“Cassian Torque. He is one of the youngest CEOs and billionaires in the world at 31 years old. He’s in charge of HP Motors, and works at the main headquarters in Garden City. Pretty neat, huh? One of the largest companies in the business capital of the country? Anyway, he was put into position four years ago, after his father went into retirement.”

Alex stepped out of his car and handed the keys to the valet. Four years ago would make Cassian Torque 27, the same age Alex was. It was pretty unusual for a board of directors to appoint such a young man to that kind of position of power. He had initially thought Cassian would at least be in his 40's. That man must be something of a genius.

“He's pretty private, but he’s often the target of news and tabloids, so beware,” Tee—a nickname he gave the tech guy that he had been working with for years back in the agency—informed him.

“You say that, Tee, but look where I am now,” Alex muttered as he straightened his sleeves. He stood at the entrance of a building along Foxglove Street of Garden City—a street which Tee had graciously informed him was known for its upscale bars and luxurious nightlife. The front of the building itself made it seem like he was going into a den.

“It’s not as sketchy as it looks, Ace,” Tee assured him. Alex took a deep breath stepped inside, where he was immediately greeted by a good-looking doorman. His coat was taken and he was told a “Have a good night, sir,” as he opened another door.

“It’s the best bar in town, or at least that’s what review sites say,” Tee said into his ear. He didn’t seem to be wrong, Alex thought. The place was thrice the size of the bar he used to work at, with tables and booths spaced away from each other. There was a calm aura inside, with jazz music playing sweetly in the background, and small chandeliers and wall sconces providing a soft glow of light. All of the staff looked decent and wore uniforms, and one could just tell that the guests were all people with money to spend.

Alex headed straight to a booth, and he could immediately feel some eyes turn his way. The place wasn’t too crowded, and as he swept his eyes across the room, he found that there were mostly men talking and flirting. “Are you sure this is the place?” he whispered dubiously.

“Hundo P, Ace,” Tee replied. “Cassian visits that place almost weekly on a Friday, around this time of night.”

“Good evening, sir,” a server approached Alex's table with a smile. The staff here, he noticed, all seemed to be doing well in the looks department. “What would you like to order?”

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned, thank you.”

“Very well, sir,” the man slightly bowed and walked away.

Tee tutted his tongue. “Drinking on the job, are we?”

Alex didn’t bother to reply to that, because he saw the door swing open and his target walk in.