On His Orders (The Billionaire's Way)

Sarah Salamuri just landed the perfect job as an assistant Account Executive at the top Hedge Fund in Los Angeles. With a view of the Pacific Ocean in lovely Santa Monica, the 20-year old college drop-out is finally able to catch up on her half of the one bedroom rental on Venice Beach. Everything is looking up for the young woman. So why does Sarah shake every time a Senior Executive walks by?

For starters, everything on Sarah’s resume is a lie. Facing the very real possibility of eviction and homelessness, the then-unemployed young woman downloaded a resume from a recent Summa Cum Laude graduate from Stanford. She simply changed the name and address on that sterling resume and submitted it to the Peak Fund. Much to Sarah’s surprise, she was called in for an interview. Thirty minutes later, the firm offered her a salaried position.

Now, young Sarah walks on eggshells. She keeps her head down and pretends to understand the very convoluted conversations about bond trading, derivative trading and foreign equity markets. Sarah knows, however, that she can’t keep up the charade much longer and plans to quit as soon as she gets her first paycheck. That would be more than enough to cover her half of the rent for the next few months.

Everything goes as planned until that fateful Friday when Sarah is called to Human Resources. There she is directed to the office of Mr. Ryan Peak, the billionaire Hedge Fund genius and head of the Peak Fund. The top alpha dog among all the alpha dogs in the hedge fund world.

Fully expecting to be fired or arrested, Sarah walks into the massive top-floor, ocean view office where the tall, imposing and intimidating billionaire holds court. There she finds herself alone with the six-foot, five-inch Hedge Fund tycoon - a bonafide Master of the Universe. The broad shouldered, dashing and steely-eyed man looks down at Sarah. The billionaire lifts Sarah's chin upward and looks down at her quivering lips and watery eyes. "It takes a lot gumption or naivety to try to deceive me. Perhaps a little of both. With a little
intensive
training, I will make you my favorite and faithful little pet."

On His Orders (The Billionaire’s Way)

By C.T. Sloan

The following work is for private use only and may not be re-published, all or in part, without express written consent of the publisher.

Copyright 2012 MC73 Publishing

I have passed by this imposing white granite building in Santa Monica dozens of times and never thought I would someday be working here. But here I am, on the tenth floor of the Peak Group - one of the top hedge funds in Los Angeles. Heck, from what I hear, this is one of the top hedge funds in the world.

To be honest, I don’t know much about finance. So, how did a 20-year old end up with a $50,000 a year job as an assistant account executive? Easy, I lied. Or to be more specific, I submitted someone else’s resume to their recruiter. A girl can do desperate things when she is one month away from eviction and homelessness.

My days at the Peak Fund are filled with a mixture of mundane tasks coupled with a sense of impending doom. I keep my head down and simply follow the orders of my direct superior, senior account executive Dan Greenland. The 35 year old father of two doesn’t seem to suspect that I am completely unqualified for my job. The poor guy is on the phone all day with the fund’s investors. So far, my most complicated assignment has been to score a lunchtime reservation at
The Grill On the Alley
in Beverly Hills.

Nevertheless, I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this charade. In fact, I plan to quit today. Payday! The check should arrive on my desk this afternoon. After that, I am out of here. My first paycheck should be enough to cover my half of the rent for the next few months. From there, I will think of another way to keep a roof over my head.

Lunchtime is my favorite time at the Peak Fund. All the important people are out of the office, enjoying overpriced salads and steaks at the best spots in LA while we “little people” fend for ourselves at the local burrito shops. Since the NYSE and NASDAQ stock exchanges close at 4PM Eastern Standard Time, we usually wait until 1PM local time to ditch the office for some grub.

Right now, I am actually rather relaxed. After all, today is my last day at the Peak Fund. When the office clears for lunch, I head I outside and enjoy the lovely ocean breeze coming off the Santa Monica coastline. Normally, I would stay in the office and check for incoming calls. But, what the hell, I’ll be out of there in a few hours. Why not take a stroll down to the ocean?

The Peak Fund is located about three blocks from the Santa Monica pier. In fact, you can see the ocean from the office. I will certainly miss that view. I check my iPhone and see it’s about ten minutes to two. Time to head back.

I walk back into the office and find the place half-empty. It was like this last Friday. I guess everyone wants to get a jumpstart on the weekend. Well, I will just have to wait. Most people have their paychecks direct deposited into their bank accounts. I opted for a paper check. Hopefully, I won’t have to stick around for much longer.

I am sitting at my desk, keeping my head low, just waiting for that paycheck to come. My desk phone rings. I press the speakerphone button. “Sarah. Please come to H.R. immediately,” the woman’s voice booms on the other end of the line.

My heart begins to race. Oh my God. They know. Why else would I be called into Human Resources? I look around the office. My eyes peer over at the red “exit” sign leading to the emergency stairs.

When I rise to my feet, the first thought in my head is to run. Just run. Everything on my resume is a lie. What is there to gain by going to Human Resources to suffer the humiliation of being fired. What if the police are waiting for me?

I can hear my heart beating through my chest. I can feel the heat emanating from my cheeks. My temples throb. I walk down the hall to the large glass panel offices of the Human Resources department. I see Anne, the woman who gave me my orientation. She is sitting at her desk with a rather confused look on her face. This can’t be good.

“Anne? You wanted to see me?” I say softly.

Anne looks at me, shaking her head. “Mr. Peak wants to see you in his office.”

Mr. Peak. Mr. Ryan Peak. The owner of the Peak Fund. The Billionaire Owner of the Peak Fund. His mere name makes people’s backs straighten. I have been here for two weeks and have yet to lay my eyes on him. And now he wants to see me!

“I’m sorry, Anne. What did you say?” I ask in a daze of fear and confusion.

“Mr. Peak wants to see you right now,” Anne tells me as she grabs a gold card from her desk. “Take this security card and press it against the button marked PH in the elevator. His office is the Penthouse Floor of this building.”

I don’t say another word to her. I can’t. I just grab the card and begin the long walk to the elevators. I step inside the maplewood personal elevator and tap the gold card against the secured Penthouse Button. As it turns out, Mr. Peak reserves the entire floor for his personal use. As the doors close, a creeping feeling overtakes me. This guy could have me killed and no one would know about it.

As the elevator slowly ascends up to the top floor, I begin to feel claustrophobic. I squandered my only chance to escape. What the fuck am I doing? Why did I consent to see Mr. Peak? As I look up at the security camera, a little voice inside of me says, “You want to see how a billionaire lives. You want to lay your eyes on the Master. Even if the results are horrific, you want to know what it is like to see, touch and smell unimaginable wealth and power.”

The doors open to a rather simple white marble room with an incredible floral centerpiece sitting inside an Oriental vase. The vase appears to be centuries old. It is massive - perhaps two feet in height. The pedestal looks like ancient relic right out of the height of the Roman Empire. I couldn’t even begin to calculate the value of those items.

The elevator doors close behind me. I am alone in this simple room. Beyond the vase loom a set of frosted glass double doors. The doors suddenly open. A tall, thin man walks up to me. “Follow me,” he says.

I follow this man, who I assume is the assistant to Mr. Peak. We walk into this massive open space. I am not even sure that I am inside an office until I see this large desk next to the floor to ceiling windows.

As I begin to open my mouth, the assistant leaves the room and closes the double doors behind him. Silence. The first thing I notice is that floor to ceiling windows comprise two entire sides of the room. I look out and see a view of the Pacific Ocean, the Santa Monica Pier and the Malibu coastline. What a view!

"Wie machst du heute?" a booming male voice says to me. I turn my head and see a big, brooding man. He is at least six feet, five inches in high, broad shoulders, dark, incredibly handsome. He looks up at me with eyes that pierce right through my body. I have no idea what he just asked me.

“I asked you how you are doing today,” the man says as he lifts up a familiar piece of paper from his desk. “According to your resume, you are fluent in German.” As I watch this very intimidating and well dressed man walk towards me, I can feel my heart ready to thump out of my chest.

“Mr. Peak?” I say in my softest voice. He looks at me and gives me the very slight hint of a smirk.

“And you certainly are not Ms. Amy Chou. Though you did do an admirable job of stealing her resume,” the billionaire lectures as he places the resume on a nearby table.

I close my eyes. I can see her name on that resume. More specifically, I can vividly remember erasing her name and putting my own name on it. Dammit. That just feels like the dumbest thing I have ever done in my life. I open my eyes and Mr. Peak is standing right over me. This man must be at least a foot taller than me. And I haven’t felt shorter, smaller and more insignificant in my life.

The Hedge Fund King just stares me down. I don’t know where to place my eyes. I am scared to even look at him. If I look away, I know it can be perceived as an insult. So, I stare at his massive chest. My eyes focus their concentration at his crimson colored tie that resembles the hue of red meat.

The billionaire lifts up my quivering chin and looks down at my watery eyes. “You have a lot of gumption to pull a stunt like that. Did you really think you could get away with such a deception. Or are you just a naive little girl?”

I swat his hand away. I didn’t mean to do that to Mr. Peak. It is just an involuntary reaction. If a man puts a hand on me, my first instinct is to swat it away. This quick and violent action catches me by surprise. But not as much as it catches Mr. Peak off guard.

The billionaire looks at my right hand - the very hand that dared to swat him away. Then he looks me right in the eye. I don’t know what is going on but I feel a surge of defiance. Dammit. It’s in my nature to fight back. But this is not the right time. I need to get myself under control here.