Gold Digger
Authors: Aleksandr Voinov
ABLE
OF
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ONTENTS
Riptide Publishing
PO Box 6652
Hillsborough, NJ 08844
http://www.riptidepublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Gold Digger
Copyright © 2012 by Aleksandr Voinov
Cover Art by L.C. Chase,
http://lcchase.com/design.htm
Editors: JoSelle Vanderhooft and Rachel Haimowitz
Layout: L.C. Chase,
http://lcchase.com/design.htm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [email protected].
ISBN: 978-1-937551-66-7
First edition
September, 2012
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For Vicktor
Not all that glitters is gold.
Nikolai Krasnorada leads the life of a corporate nomad. Working for a gold explorations company, he’s never put down roots, and he likes it that way. Roots can be dangerous, as everyone from his “man-hating” sister to his manipulative mother to his war-traumatized father has proven.
But when his CEO sends him to Toronto to strike a deal with LeBeau Mining, Nikolai meets Henri LeBeau, crown prince to the resources conglomerate and inveterate flirt. Sparks fly immediately, despite the business deal that threatens to go sour and Nikolai’s own reluctance to give Henri false hope about him being Mr. Right. He’s barely come to terms with his bisexuality, and getting involved with Henri would get messy.
When LeBeau Mining launches a hostile takeover bid, Nikolai and Henri find themselves on opposite sides of the negotiating table. But fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—for Nikolai, Henri’s not nearly as interested in his company as he is in his heart.
“Just a moment, Nik,” Tamás said, holding him back by the shoulder before he could leave the restroom to face the high-powered corporate meeting ahead. Nikolai turned and lifted his hands in capitulation while trying not to swat Tamás away when he adjusted his tie.
“You’d just make a mess out of it,” Tamás explained.
“I know.” Nikolai tugged his own shirt cuffs out of the suit at least, flashing a little white. As comfortable as this one was, a tailored suit always reminded him of marriages and christenings and funerals, when things were getting formal and when he’d much rather be wearing jeans and a shirt. Vadim had taken him to his own tailor on Savile Row, a street much less impressive than its reputation. But his father did enjoy the fine things in life, and he’d definitely enjoyed dressing Nikolai “properly.”
The only slightly mortifying thing was that the tailor had thought them lovers. Maybe they’d stood too close or had shown too much affection. Vadim was still a very attractive man, and possibly looked too refined to be straight (he wasn’t), and his own suit indicated he clearly had enough money to keep a boy toy thirty years younger. Still, Nikolai had hurried to call him “Dad,” though that word was always just too demonstrative. As if speaking it referenced a past they’d never really shared, and pointing it out was trying too hard.
Tamás attracted his attention with a wave in front of his face. “You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Nikolai adjusted his cufflink—tiger eye—and dropped his shoulders, which had crept up toward his ears from the tension. He wasn’t made for this. He was an introvert to beat all introverts, and critical presentations weren’t his thing. If Tamás’s spoken English were any better, he would have done it, but Nikolai sounded like a native, so it was his job.
They left the restroom, and the gorgeous personal assistant from earlier ushered them into a large conference room situated in the corner of the building, its two floor-to-ceiling windows displaying other skyscrapers in central Toronto. The room was empty but for the conference table and chairs and a large white board that doubled as a projection surface.
Tamás got to work setting up the laptop and projector while the PA asked them about drinks and then left to get coffee. Nikolai knew the presentation by heart; he’d written most of it, with Tamás then killing all his typos. His spoken English was awkward, but his written English was much better than Nikolai’s. Nikolai inhaled deeply and tried to get rid of the tension. It didn’t work.
“Mr. LeBeau and the rest of the board will be with you momentarily,” the PA said, setting down two cups of coffee in front of them on the table.
“Thank you.” Nikolai took a sip, but the coffee hit his roiling stomach like battery acid. He put the cup down and reached for one of the tiny water bottles standing on the table. He secured a glass, too, and poured it.
“You’ll be fine,” Tamás reassured him in Hungarian, and Nikolai nodded grimly. They should have left this stuff to the corporate finance bankers—smooth talkers, smooth dressers, and too smart for their own good. But this kind of deal called for more commitment—more honesty, maybe. Cards on the table. Was that how the corporate game was played? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. If their CEO hadn’t been tied up with meetings in Georgia,
he
could have done it.
Tamás pulled a pile of stapled papers from his briefcase and distributed the copies of the presentation around the room.
The door opened, and LeBeau walked in. His silver mane gave his angular, long face a leonine cast, and Nikolai had to force himself to move toward him. Biggest shareholder. Diamond, gold, silver, and copper billionaire. Nikolai had never gotten quite this close to so much money before in his life.
He shook the man’s hand when he offered it. “Mr. LeBeau. Very pleased to finally meet you. Nikolai Krasnorada. And this is my partner, Tamás Kovacs.”
Tamás shook his hand next, while LeBeau inquired after their trip and their hotel, perfectly pleasant and as if he really cared. He grabbed Nikolai’s elbow, a controlling gesture, but there was extremely little Nikolai could do about it, so he pretended he hadn’t noticed.
More men and two women entered the room. “Mr. Krasnorada, let me introduce you.” LeBeau let his elbow go and put his hand between Nikolai’s shoulder blades, steering him to the board members. He introduced them very briefly. The last one caught his eye. Mid- to late-thirties, dark hair, an easy, warm smile, and the charm of an actor. “Henri LeBeau, my younger brother’s son. Only one of the lot who has a head for business.”
Henri’s smile wavered, and Nikolai pretended he hadn’t noticed the jab. He didn’t like hearing it, and he shouldn’t have had to, by all rights. But family always made him tetchy, too.
“Pleased to meet you,” Nikolai said.
Henri shook his head and smiled at him. “Great to meet you.” His eyes were a mellow golden-brown, framed by features that struck him as not entirely British
or
French, but Nikolai couldn’t place him. Nikolai inhaled deeply, kept smiling, hoping all of this would soon be over and they could fly back to Armenia.
Finally, introductions made, everybody settled and Nikolai and Tamás withdrew to their laptop. A kind soul dimmed the light, and Nikolai glanced over at the PA, who smiled warmly at him from the door. If even the PA was encouraging him, he had to be giving off that anxious vibe he’d been trying so hard to contain. He reached up to pull at the tie, but stopped himself just in time and folded his hands in front of him so they couldn’t get into any trouble.
“Right. Thanks for coming and giving us the opportunity to introduce ourselves and our company.” That, at least, he’d done before. Of course, the board knew damn well who he was and what Cybele Exploration did. Besides, their names and Cybele’s logo of two lions were on the first page of his presentation.
He took a deep breath and walked them through the investment case. The drill pattern, the lab results, the amount of gold they’d secured, the backing from the Armenian government and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development. Cybele Exploration wasn’t completely a small fish anymore; they’d gone public a year ago and had used the money they’d collected to amply finance their drilling program. They had a fair idea of how much gold was in their exploration area, and there might very well be more, as the resource was still wide open in all directions. Every drill to find the borders of the deposit had only yielded further positive results. They were sitting on an enormous potential treasure, and now was the time to get some help on board. Nobody was better than LeBeau Mining.