Page 3 of Mr. Hotshot CEO
“I do not owe you a wedding to plan and a grandchild to coddle,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“But you do owe us two weeks away from the office. I won’t take no for an answer. Raymond will be in charge, and your father can help out as needed.”
“What does Dad think of your plan?”
“He thinks it’s a great idea.”
“Why isn’t he here?”
Mom makes a face. “He’s golfing again.”
“You can’t refuse,” Po Po says. “If so, I will make your life miserable.”
I have no doubt she could accomplish this.
“Every day at lunch,” she continues, “I bring new woman to your office. Will say you’re looking for nice bride. Also, will play Chinese opera music outside your door all day. Very loud.”
Vince doubles over in laughter.
“Priya wouldn’t let you do that,” I say.
Priya must have been listening at the door because she chooses that moment to walk in. She’s in her late twenties, and she’s been my assistant since before I became CEO. She ought to be loyal to me.
Except apparently she isn’t. Apparently, our many years of working together just mean she’s comfortable saying whatever she wants to me.
“Your family is right,” she says. “You work too much. You need some time off. If you come into the office anytime in the next two weeks, I’ll get security to escort you out.”
“You can’t do that,” I say.
She puts her hand on her hip. “Why not?”
“It’smycompany. You can’t kick me out of my own company.”
“I’m not kicking you out of your position. It’s just two weeks, Julian. The company will survive without you for two weeks.
“Two weeks and three days,” I mutter.
“I know you won’t fire me,” she says. “If security refuses to escort you out, I’ll let your grandmother bring in these prospective brides and blast opera music. You need this. You can’t keep working fourteen-hour days for the rest of your life.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Says who?”
It’s my life. I can do whatever I want with it, and what I want is to turn Fong Investments into an even more successful company than it was under my father. My parents always had high expectations of us, and I want to make them proud. Plus, I’m the responsible son who gets things done. It’s just what I do. It’s unfair for them to expect that of me, then accuse me of working too much.
Besides, it’s not like I don’t keep myself in good health. I wake up at five every morning so I can work out in my gym before getting into the office at seven. Then I’ll stay at work until about eight o’clock at night, go home and eat dinner, maybe read another report. After that, I’ll watch a TV show.
See? I have free time. Not as much as Vince, but he has far too much of it.
I look toward him and he grins.
“I’ll help you figure out what to do with your time,” he says. “I’m going to a party tomorrow night. What do you say?”
When I was a university student, I once went to a crazy party, which ended with me puking and passing out. That was sixteen years ago, and I’ve never done anything like that again.
I suspect this is the sort of party Vince has in mind, not a fancy charity event where I can schmooze with important business people.
“Are you ready for me yet?” It’s the locksmith. He’s standing in the doorway.
“Almost done,” Po Po says. “Just wait.”
