Chapter 1
1268 Words
“Tyler! Where the hell have you been?”
“I’m sorry, Madam, there was an emergency meeting at the new mine in Brighton. I took the jet back as soon as I saw your message.”
“The jet?”
“Yes, Madam, the older one.”
“First, Tyler, I’ve told you to call me Ashley, and second, I told you to use the new jet.”
“Yes, Madam,” Tyler replied demurely, lowering his gaze from the gently admonishing expression on Ashley Belarnt’s beautiful face. Behind her, her two assistants stared daggers at him.
Tyler Varsen. A lowly mine inspector who had joined one of the mid-sized subsidiaries barely nine months ago, yet had somehow managed to get into the head office of the second-wealthiest family in the country, the Belarnts.
No one in the history of the company had ever moved that far, that fast.
And no man had ever caught the Boss Lady’s attention with such fervor.
The rumors were hard and heavy. Even before Varsen had officially been transferred to the head office, word had spread – a commoner was trying to make his way into the lady boss’ bed.
It was irritating. Especially to other males who had their sights on the Lady and nursed hopes of getting into her good graces, but no persons were more offended than Ashley Belarnt’s young, male assistants, who despised anyone who got too close to their mistress.
By the time Tyler Varsen resumed, everyone already knew the unnecessarily handsome inspector was climbing the social ladder on his back.
More annoying was the fact that the man was clearly good at his job – both of them – given the speed at which he had made his way from the crate offices in the regions to the Bell Tower, the skyscraper housing every leading company owned by the Belarnts, right in the center of Salvena City.
The assistants’ faces screamed it all.
Call her by her name! We dare you!
But Tyler Esteil was not interested in anything related to the Belarnts, outside of the access they afforded him to the Kramers. As close business associates and the second-ranking noble house, he was there for two reasons – proximity and access.
Tyler Esteil, currently using the alias ‘Tyler Varsen,’ had worked his way into Belarnt Group through their gem mining division, starting as a site inspector at Kramer mines, which are mainly run by Belarnt operatives, then climbing to regional supervisor, accessing files and offices across both empires. Now, he sat at the heart of Belarnt operations, exactly where he needed to be.
He had expected a complete name change, but when Lincoln brought his papers almost a year ago, his first name remained.
When he had asked Lincoln about this, almost a year ago, the gangster had smiled his rugged smile.
‘Somehow, I think the name Tyler suits you well. Keep it. Use it. Don’t get caught by someone calling you the wrong name on the street.’
Tyler heard the man’s voice in his head as he kept his eyes down, away from Ashley Belarnt, away from her assistants – dumb and dumber.
He heard the mafia leader’s laughing voice from the past, his mind leaving them room, as it usually did whenever he wasn’t discussing anything directly related to his work.
‘Keep your head down,’ Lincoln had said.
Tyler almost laughed.
Lincoln… That’s what mum used to tell me forever.
If only you knew how long I’ve kept my head down! I don’t even feel it anymore.
It’s almost time. But till then, no mistakes.
Tonight, I need to –
Soft fingers touched his chin, lifting his head.
Tyler blinked, then smiled bashfully.
Ashley Belarnt, heiress of the Belarnt family, gazed up at him, her almond-shaped eyes round with concern. “What’s the matter? Are you tired? Do you need to sit, or lie down?” she asked hurriedly, in her melodious voice.
Her slender palm against Tyler’s suit lapel as the lithe young lady stepped in, far too close, to Tyler’s hunched frame.
Her free palm moved toward Tyler’s forehead, and the inspector stepped back, just as Ashley’s two sentinels stepped forward, one of whom had a hand raised as if to physically pull his mistress back.
Tyler Varsen was, as the rumors already stated, a skilled mine inspector. Very professional and highly competent at his job.
The other part had been exaggerated.
He did not sleep his way to new posts. What he did do, the sliver of truth in the rumor, was pull the heartstrings. Male or female, it didn’t matter. He simply found what made people tick and turned it on.
Soft to those who wanted to nurture. Hard to those who wanted to be lorded over. Kind to those who wanted to be cherished. Indifferent to those who wanted to chase.
A chameleon.
And a damned good one.
Tyler adjusted his glasses nervously, for the pleasure of his current boss, the beautiful, young heiress who had men lining up outside her door for a chance to show her what they were made of, to care for her, provide for her, protect her.
A woman who needed nothing. A woman who, rather, wanted to provide, to offer the care.
He stammered, keeping his gaze averted, “I…I’m okay. It’s…just…the mine…the gas…I was worrying about it.”
He lied.
Smoothly.
Tyler was used to it.
His entire life was a lie. His job was a lie. His reactions were lies. His five-year prison sentence was a lie. The reason for his incarceration was a lie.
The loyalty of masters to selfless servants? That was a lie.
Forgiveness, mercy, consideration from the rich to the poor? All lies.
Tyler Esteil knew all this. None of it fazed him. After all, he would do much worse than simply lie before his plans were achieved.
Far, far worse.
Soon. Very soon. The lies would end.
He saw the faces of his enemies. Edward Kramer, the current Lord of the Kramer household. Vincent Kramer, the son, the only child, and the heir to the Kramer empire. The Lady of the House, and the servants who would very soon be out of work once he was done with their masters.
“But you’ve done your part,” Ashley pressed gently, sidling closer, taking his muscular arm in her small hands, pulling him out of his ruminations and leading him toward her large desk.
She seated him in the visitor’s chair and balanced herself on the desk, facing him, her short skirt riding up her shapely thighs.
Tyler swallowed, glancing away again, pushing his glasses nervously up the bridge of his nose.
He rubbed his palms against his legs, looking haplessly toward the secretaries who had not moved from the wall behind their boss’ desk, one on each side of the large desk before the ceiling-to-floor glass overlooking the city.
The two younger men glared back.
Once again, their faces responded to Tyler's silent plea for help.
Bastard!
Rat!
Dog!
Ingrate!
Tyler would have rolled his eyes, but he could not. He had to keep his mask on. Varsen had to stay in the forefront.
He was used to such stares anyway. He had received them at the Kramer estate for most of his life. In school, even up to university. In prison, and in the back halls and alleyways of the underground black markets.
But he had shut them all up. Or shut them down. All except one.
His target. The Kramer estate.
Tyler cleared his mind, forcing himself to focus.
- Writer
