The FINGERS OF FORTUNE Series Book One – Controlled By The Cold Billionaire Roman I hated parties.
Not the kind of hatred that made me dramatic about it.
I wasn’t going to stand in the middle of a ballroom and announce to three hundred wealthy strangers that I would rather be anywhere else.
That would mean I cared what they thought.
I simply hated parties in the quiet, practical way a man hated an unnecessary event.
And why?
They served absolutely no purpose.
Just a bunch of people dressed up in expensive clothes, pouring champagne into crystal glasses, laughing at jokes they didn’t even find funny.
And of course, spending several hours pretending they weren’t calculating what everyone else was worth.
Tonight was no different.
The ballroom of the Delacroix Hotel shone brighter than daylight from the collection of chandeliers that probably cost more than most people made in a lifetime.
Gold trims ran along the walls, and tall windows overlooked Manhattan.
A decent enough string quartet played at the far end of the room, producing some elegant enough music to make the noise of conversation in the room seem almost bearable.
Almost.
The charity fundraiser for the Wildlife Reserve should be the star of the show but had been one-upped by the geezers and snobs in their well-tailored tuxedos and shiny dresses.
I wasn’t complaining about that.
At least they knew how to appear decent.
I stood near one of the marble pillars with a glass of champagne in my hand, glaring at a man in a tuxedo laughing so hard at something that was probably not as funny.
Except the teller was Jonathan and his billion dollar construction company.
I grimaced.
Business deals should be made in an office, nor at some silly ball.
A ball that wasn’t necessary at all.
My eye moved to my watch and it told me the time was 9:52pm.
Forty-three minutes.
I’d been here for forty-three minutes which meant I could leave if I wanted to.
No one would stop me.
No one would even dare question it.
I was Roman Sterling.
They don’t question.
They adjust.
That was one of the advantages of spending years building a reputation around yourself.
Eventually, people stopped asking whether you were going to do something and started assuming you already had a reason for whatever you did.
If I walked out of the ballroom right now, there would be whispers for perhaps five minutes.
Then someone would invent a reason—an urgent business matter, a board meeting, and a secret acquisition—anything to keep their evening going.
Not that I cared.
But I still didn’t leave.
I wasn’t really sure why.
Maybe because I had promised Riley I would stay for at least an hour.
And I always keep my promises.
Even the pointless ones.
“Are you thinking about leaving already?
You just got here.” I glanced to my left.
Jonathan walked to stand beside me, looking irritatingly comfortable in a black tuxedo.
He had his short hair neatly swept back and his eyes too bright for my liking.
“I think he has been thinking about it since he got here.” Lucien appeared on my other side, holding a drink he had barely touched.
“He has been checking his watch every six minutes.” When I glanced down at my watch.
He laughed.
“Didn’t make the cut.
Five minutes this time,” he corrected, laughing.
When I looked at him, he shrugged.
“What?
You make it too easy.” “Stop that.” “I can’t,” his smile widened.
“You’re interesting when miserable.” I took a sip of champagne.
“I’ll remember that the next time you need my help.” “You’ll do the favor anyway.
You can’t help it.” He was right.
They could tease me all they wanted and I’d still help them when they needed it.
That annoyed me more than it should have.
“You fuckers are weird,” Jonathan said.
He was not looking at us.
“Is that Shannon Geller?
I didn’t think she’d come.” I followed his gaze.
“Why wouldn’t she?” She was a world-class elitist and a snob who lived for such moments.
It would be surprising if she was absent.
Even dying, she’d probably attend.
Lucien looked at me, shaking his head.
“I wonder why we bother.” Jonathan raised both hands.
“I didn’t drag him here.
I simply told him that his presence was expected.
And that there would be investors here.” “There are always investors.” Lucien countered.
“Important investors.” “There are always important investors.” I was exasperated.
It had very little to do with the boring ball and plenty to do with the annoying idiots at my sides.
“Shannon Geller?” I prompted.
“Getting a divorce,” Lucien said, swirling his champagne.
“William, that old bastard, wants someone younger.
A model.” I sipped my champagne.
It was no surprise.
William Geller was notorious for his many affairs over the years he and Shannon had been married.
A model here, an upcoming actress there.
It was only a matter of time before their sham of a marriage ended.
“Shannon is taking it well,” Jonathan said.
I scoffed.
She probably was not, but pride was a commodity she could afford right now as a word-class elitist and now a bitter snob.
“So Roman, about the investors…” He turned to me.
The three of us stood together for another few minutes, trading the sort of conversation that required my very little thought—investors, business deals, Lucien’s possible collaboration with a museum for an art showcase—and did not bore me to tears.
Every conversation was easy with them, even if most with Lucien was annoying.
That was probably why they were still my friends.
There was no performance with them.
No need to impress or pretend.
And definitely no need to calculate every word.
Whether they irritated or left me alone, they never asked for permission.
I respected them for that.
And believe me, they were the only ones I respected in our one-percenter world.
Eventually, Jonathan spotted someone across the room.
“Well, look who finally crawled out of his hole.” I raised my eyes.
An investment banker I recognized was standing near the bar with his overdressed wife.
Jonathan glanced back at us.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.
And Roman,” he clapped my shoulder, “do not leave without letting us know.” “Oh, he will,” Lucien said, grinning as Jonathan disappeared into the crowd.
I jerked a glare to Lucien, but was met with a knowing and mischievous grin.
I hated him.
“What?
I’m having fun.” “At my expense?” “Yes, until you choose to not give it.” He lasted another three minutes in total silence by my side until a woman approached him, said something that made him laugh, and he looked at me with an apologetic expression that held no apology at all.
“Don’t wait up,” he joked, leaving with the woman.
I eyed him.
Only a fool would.
Lucien was a chronic womanizer who somehow—twisted as it sounded—still believed in love.
If the notion of the great fallacy didn’t kill him, a sexual disease would.
Finally, I was alone, and it was perfectly fine because I preferred being alone.
They were my most productive moments.
If only I could be alone in my home rather than this godforsaken tortuous ball, that would be even much better.
Someone approached me within thirty seconds.
“Good evening, Mr.
Sterling.” I turned, very slowly.
Benjamin Denver was extending his hand.
“I am very surprised, but happy to see you here.” I took my time accepting his offered hand.
The handshake was short and firm and my eyes never left his.
That was my control.
I frowned.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be here?” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Tiny_Psalm Hiya, People.
Author here.
It feels to great to be writing again after the break.
For the new reader, I hope you enjoy my book.
For my lovely old timers (saying this in context ‘wink’), we are stepping away from the ancient lords and dealing with modern-day ones.
Sit tight.
The Fingers Of Fortune series is a fast-paced novel series telling the stories of billionaires and their lady loves.
So brace yourselves and enjoy the ride with me.
Book One – Lord of Control