Baiting Trouble (Sinful Business Book 2) Read online

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Brad demanded. The man didn’t look like a burglar in the least. He was middle-aged and well-groomed, dressed in an expensive suit, complete with an equally expensive shirt, tie, and shoes.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Mr. Weiss. I did not mean to startle you.” The man spoke without any accent, crisply enunciating each syllable. His overly careful pronunciation being the only giveaway that English was not his first language. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Tian Wang.” The man rose from the couch and extended his hand in a greeting.

  Brad felt like a complete imbecile. A man like Tian Wang needed no introduction, and now that Brad took a second look at his surprise visitor he did indeed recognize the famous magnate. But what on earth was Tian Wang doing in his room?

  “You must be wondering what I am doing in your suite,” Wang said, smiling a very polite smile. “I would like to assure you that I am not in the habit of wandering into strangers’ rooms. My visit has a purpose and I shall make it known shortly. But first I thought we might have some breakfast? Break bread is the American expression, I believe.”

  Brad nodded, wracking his brain for a polite excuse. One didn’t exactly throw a man like Tian Wang out, and yet he didn’t feel like “breaking bread” with him either. Not in his present state anyway.

  Just then there was a light rapping on the door. “Excuse me,” Brad said, heading for the door. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  “That must be room service,” Wang explained. “I took the liberty of ordering.”

  Bewildered, Brad opened the door and saw Wang’s words confirmed. Two waiters quietly wheeled in a breakfast table laden with enough food to feed five men. The waiters quickly placed a table and two chairs in the middle of the living room, right in front of the TV.

  “I wasn’t sure what your preference was,” Wang said, signing for the bill before Brad could interject. “I hope you like Bloody Marys. Please,” he added as he took a seat at the table, “join me.”

  Brad’s eyes hungrily focused on the drink—a few sips were bound to clear his hangover. He forced himself to smile easily and took his time to get seated. “Thank you.” He carefully lifted the glass to his lips and took a long swallow, feeling the fog lift from his head. Those drinks Isabelle had kept feeding him last night were delicious but gave one nasty hangover. He plunged into the eggs, bacon and cheese plate, devouring it in mere minutes. He grabbed a croissant and bit into it hungrily, almost forgetting about his guest.

  “You have a very hearty appetite, Mr. Weiss,” Wang observed. He had barely touched his plate.

  Brad blushed. “My apologies. I don’t normally wolf down my food like this, but I had a long night and I’m famished.”

  “I can see that.” Something in Wang’s tone set Brad on edge, but he forced himself to ignore it, taking a long swallow of coffee instead. He was almost feeling like a human being now. “Do you like movies, Mr. Weiss?” Wang asked.

  “Why, yes. Once in a while, mostly action movies,” Brad answered, thinking that Tian Wang was one strange bird. But then rich people often were.

  “Then I think you will really enjoy the movie that I’m about to show you.” Wang turned on the TV with a remote control.

  A sex scene appeared on the screen. It was clearly a porno movie made by an amateur, but it was still quite racy—three women and one man. What the hell was Tian Wang doing storming into his suite, inviting him for breakfast, and then showing him a porno movie? Brad was about to demand an explanation when he realized that the man on the screen was none other than himself, and the three women were the graces from last night. He felt sick with all the food that he had so hastily consumed rising up in his stomach.

  “Breathe, Mr. Weiss. Just relax and enjoy the movie,” Wang said.

  “What is this? How dare you?” Brad exploded. “This is a complete violation of privacy.”

  “You are in no position to talk about violation, Mr. Weiss. Engaging in sexual activity with underage minors is a very grave offense in Macau.”

  “Minors? What the hell?” Brad demanded.

  “Patience, Mr. Weiss.” Wang forwarded the video, making Brad even dizzier with the grotesquely flashing sex images on the screen. Wang stopped the video abruptly, pausing on a picture of three girls in school uniforms. They were identical triplets, with beautiful, makeup-free fresh faces and pretty, slim bodies. They looked to be no older then sixteen, but upon closer look Brad could recognize the three graces from last night. No wonder they said that when a woman took off her makeup she took off her face. The next slide showed the very same girls in outfits from last night, eliminating all hope for a misunderstanding. And the next slide showed three IDs with pictures of the three girls stating that they were sixteen years of age.

  “I had no idea,” Brad stammered. “They approached me. It was perfectly consensual and since we were in a casino, I assumed that they would have to be of age. Otherwise how did they get in there in the first place?” Brad demanded, starting to feel emboldened. “It sounds to me that there are some serious security gaps in this casino.”

  “As the owner of Citron Hotel and Casino I assure you that there are no security gaps. Our security systems and surveillance cameras are top notch, as you have just had the opportunity to witness,” Wang added tartly. There were sparks of laughter in his eyes—he was enjoying seeing Brad squirm like this.

  “You own Citron?” Brad asked in disbelief. “I thought it was owned by—”

  “Yes, a close associate of mine who serves as the front. I don’t like the limelight. As it is, I’ve had too much of it.”

  “Are you going to turn me over to the police?” Brad asked, his mind working feverishly. He could not afford to have news of this leak to Langman. He needed to think of some bargaining chips, pronto. There was also the matter of his winnings from last night—perhaps he could make a bargain with Wang after all.

  “I’ve never been a big fan of the authorities, Mr. Weiss. Involving the police wasn’t my plan, unless you force me to. I rather hoped that we could become partners. You might be surprised to learn that we have quite a bit in common. May I have your permission to present my offer to you?”

  Brad felt like he was playing a game of cat and mouse. He was the mouse. “By all means. I’m all ears.”

  “Good. I understand that you’ve just been passed over for the CEO job at Orion. Peter Langman chose to hire Steven Wright instead of you. A foolish move in my opinion, but old men are frequently foolish.”

  “How did you—?” Brad knew his mouth was gaping open, but he didn’t even bother to hide his shock. This was too much for a hangover morning.

  Wang gave him another one of his quiet smiles. “I have my sources. Now, allow me to present my proposition to you.”

  “Please, proceed.”

  Brad’s eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets as he listened to Wang. True, he had been tempted with revenge since Langman had told him that he wasn’t getting the job, but what Wang was proposing went beyond revenge. To agree to his scheme would be to commit a hideous crime. Brad shook his head. “I won’t do it. What you’re proposing is a horrible crime and I’ll never agree to it. I won’t lie to you—I’m not happy about my current situation with Orion, but I could never agree to participate in your scheme. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a plane to catch. I believe that forgetting the incident with the girls from last night would be a fair exchange for me not mentioning your scheme to the authorities. After all, it is only a wild plan that will never be anything more than a product of your overly active imagination.”

  “Tsk-tsk, Mr. Weiss, you have an overly developed sense of self confidence. Unless we come to an understanding, I believe it is I who will be contacting the authorities to detain you.”

  “On what grounds? You must’ve arranged to have those girls accost me. For all I know, they could be prostitutes!”

  “It is a sign of a weak charac
ter to lose one’s temper under pressure. For now, I’m prepared to put your encounter with the underage girls aside. That still leaves the matter of your debt. You own the casino four million dollars. How do you propose to pay?”

  “What on earth are you talking about? This ridiculous conversation has gone far enough.” Brad rose from his seat. “I will not participate in your deranged scheme, Mr. Wang. I have nothing further to say to you. Now if you’d be kind enough to leave. I have a plane to catch.”

  “I will be happy to oblige you, Mr. Weiss, just as soon as you tell me how you plan to pay your debt of four million dollars with the casino,” Wang pressed.

  “Are you completely mad? I won last night. You’re the one who owes me. But seeing the way you’re acting, this whole thing was clearly a set-up and I won’t get my winnings unless I participate in your crazy scheme. You can forget it—it’ll never happen. I just want to get out of here.”

  “If you could indulge me for a few more minutes, Mr. Weiss, I think the recording you’re about to see will clear things up.”

  Wang clicked the play button on the remote control and a video recording of Brad playing craps last night appeared on the screen. Brad’s recollection of last night was hazy, but he could tell that the recording was of the latter part of the evening, toward the end. By that point Isabelle had her arms entwined around his neck, intermittently kissing his lips and nibbling his ear. She certainly didn’t look underage or inexperienced. Brad wondered how many men had fallen victim to Wang’s ploy before him. But he wasn’t like most men, and Tian Wang wasn’t going to get a thing out of him with his dirty tricks.

  Just as he remembered from last night, Brad saw a mound of chips piled up before him on the screen. “See, I told you. I was winning!” he exclaimed. Wang merely smiled in return.

  The video played on for several more minutes, progressing to the end of the night. Once it got to the part where the dealer handed Brad the marker to sign, the camera focused on the marker Brad was signing and Wang hit the freeze button. It showed that Brad’s account owed four million dollars.

  “As they say, Mr. Weiss, a picture is worth a thousand words.”

  “How’s that possible?” Brad asked in a squeak that was a caricature of his voice.

  “You just saw the video yourself. With high stakes, things add up quickly. Practiced players keep track of their markers.”

  Brad wracked his brain, reliving the events of last night. He always kept a mental tab of his winnings and he’d been sure that he’d been winning. Suddenly it dawned on him. Those damn drinks that Isabelle kept feeding him—there had to be something in those drinks.

  “You drugged me!” he exploded, jumping up from his seat. “You put something in those drinks. I’m going to get a drug test and sue you,” he snarled. “You can’t drug people to coerce them into doing what you want.”

  “Test away, Mr. Weiss. But I’m afraid you will not find any trace of illegal substances in your system. A proprietary blend was used to enhance your experience last night, but I assure you that it has long since left your body and will not be detectable by any of the substance abuse tests available on the market.”

  Brad paled, collapsing back onto his seat. He couldn’t believe the situation he was in. It was too surreal to be true.

  “Now, Mr. Weiss, how will you be settling your debt with the casino? We do offer a credit at twenty percent annual interest.”

  Brad felt that his head was about to explode. He had about a million dollars in his savings. Selling his apartment and everything he owned could produce another four hundred thousand at best. Where was he to come up with the rest? Ask Peter Langman for a loan? Open a line of credit at a local bank?

  “Unless we come to an acceptable payment plan, I will have no choice but to escalate the matter to the authorities. In which case, I will also have to mention your indiscretion from last night,” Wang said meaningfully.

  “You’re certainly a very persuasive man, Mr. Wang. Let’s just say I had an epiphany and I’m ready to cooperate with you,” Brad forced himself to speak in much calmer tone.

  “I knew we’d be able to come to a mutual understanding.”

  “However, I must warn you that your plan seems impossible to me. I have no idea how to execute it.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Weiss, I just need your assurance of cooperation. In due time, I will provide you with clear instructions on what exactly it is that I need you to do for me.”

  Chapter 4

  Delilah Jones rolled her eyes and sighed. It was Friday afternoon and things were dragging at a snail’s pace in the agency. She cast a sidelong glance at the cubicle city which she sat smack in middle of—the sight of hunched over shoulders and fatigued faces told her that her fellow worker bees were just as bored as she was. Some days were more exciting than others, but mostly it was a nine to five grind. At least it had been so for Delilah and today was no different. She wondered how much more she could take of this.

  She hadn’t always been a government stiff. Her past life had been filled with excitement and glamour, even if it had been illegal. As an upscale escort girl she got to be wined and dined by the wealthy and the powerful men of this world, and they weren’t some pathetic, bald-headed, middle-aged chubs either. Of course there’d been a fair share of those too, but mostly her clients were good-looking. And even the lesser endowed ones made up for their physical flaws with the sheer force of their charisma. They were powerful men, rich men, and in Delilah’s eyes, that automatically made them attractive. Power could be an aphrodisiac. At first, she’d been surprised to see how many attractive, sexy men were on the market for paid company, but then she began to understand. Her clients wanted the best. They were willing to pay top dollar for affection to be delivered according to their needs, and she’d been happy to oblige. She’d always known that she wasn’t like most women. Growing up she didn’t dream of a husband, children, and a white picket fence like so many of her girlfriends did. Instead, she dreamt of glamorous galas, couture gowns, and of powerful, charismatic men on her arm. That’s right—men, not just one man. Each time the fantasy differed because she refused to confine herself to a single person and eliminate the possibilities and excitement others could bring, even in her dreams. She fantasized about the kind of men who ruled the fates of many but would become powerless slaves to her beauty. For a brief moment her dreams had come true. Her clients had been incredibly attached to her, some of them even going as far as cancelling plans with their wives to be with her. She’d been flown on private jets, cooked for by famous chefs, taken to couture designers to be fitted for gowns that priced at thousands of dollars, and escorted to events that cost tens of thousands of dollars to attend. She’d lived like the Queen of Sheba and now she was stuck in a cubicle, a lowly government snitch.

  At first, she’d thought she’d like being an undercover agent. She’d imagined herself as a female version of James Bond, charming secrets out of glamorous, rich men who conspired to take over the world and exposing their evil plans. That sounded almost as exciting as her past life, and she certainly had the skills for it. Talk about unrealistic expectations. So far, her biggest achievement had been selecting outfits for agents who actually got to do the exciting stuff on undercover assignments, like her friend Ally, who sat two cubicles over from her. And even though Delilah had been praised by her supervisor and received stellar rankings on her performance evaluation, she wasn’t fooled—she was convinced that she was being given second-rate assignments.

  Delilah was never one to be jealous, but it was difficult not to compare the two different paths her and Ally’s careers had taken. They’d both started working for the agency at the same time and became friends during the training program for new recruits. Fast forward a year and Ally had a slew of successfully completed assignments under her belt as well as a handsome boyfriend whom she’d also met at the agency, while Delilah was wondering if she’d ever learn to navigate the agency’s cubicle city maze. Of course A
lly had graduated from Duke with a joint major in engineering and physics, and Delilah had been a psychology major and dropped out of college in her freshman year. Still, the Department of Energy knew that when they offered her a spot in their undercover agency. She’d worked hard to catch up with her colleagues who were all engineering, computer or math majors by taking training courses offered by the agency and doing her own reading. Besides, one didn’t need to be an engineer or a physicist to get a company CEO to divulge his plans to circumvent the law or to get a potential spy to boast about his plans. No, that took people skills and a woman’s touch, and Delilah had perfected those.

  It was so quiet that when Delilah’s phone rang she nearly jumped in her chair. She checked the caller ID and her eyes flew wide open. It was Marion Phillips, the agency’s chief. She’d never called Delilah for anything before.

  “Delilah Jones speaking,” Delilah tried to sound both energetic and efficient at the same time.

  “Hello, Delilah. Could you stop by my office?” Marion’s imperial voice eliminated the possibility of no as an answer.

  “Of course. I’ll be right there.” Delilah checked her watch—it was four thirty p.m. She’d been planning to go out with some friends for drinks but now, depending on what Marion wanted, she’d probably have to cancel. The agency worked all hours of the day and it wasn’t unheard of for agents to work straight through weekends on important assignments.

  She grabbed her notebook and headed for Marion’s office. Even though it looked like her Friday plans were now history, she was excited about what Marion had in store for her. Maybe she’d finally get to do something more than just sitting in a cubicle doing grunt work.