The CEO Forbidden Passion

"Find that damn old bastard. I don't care if he lives or dies. Scatter!" Rough, angry screams of a man with thin sideburns and an elegant appearance echoed in the empty living room of a luxury beachfront house with entire glass walls in Malibu, Los Angeles.

About a dozen men in black suits rummaged through the empty house looking for Lawrence Brickman. They had combed two floors of the man's house, but nothing.

"Sorry, Mister Jordan. It seems that man has run away somewhere!" reported the head of the bodyguard, a malevolent-looking young man with his hands on his back in the middle of the 1st floor of the beachfront house.

"Bastard! He took away my $50 million investment fund. That's no small sum, Donovan. HUH!" Jordan Fremantle grabbed his cropped hair, which had been neatly styled, out of annoyance.

Feelings of depression due to losing a lot of money at one time make it experience symptoms of depression. He wanted to kill the old man who was so cunning and had tricked him into agreeing to pay for a mega-project of the future city of North America.

Without him realizing it, the CCTV cameras installed at hidden points in the beach house recorded everything. And the old taro owner of the house laughed arrogantly, enjoying the scene recorded there from his hiding place.

***

Malibu, Los Angeles.

"Hello, gentlemen. Did I miss a party here? Why are there so many people?" A melodious and joyful voice tugged Jordan Fremantle's head behind his back.

He saw a woman with light golden brown hair wavy along her back, dressed in a matching bright yellow mid-thigh body dress. She wore six-inch-high yellow stiletto heels and wide black glasses on her little oval face, looking directly at Jordan from the doorway of the beach house.

'Who is this damn carefree woman?!' Jordan thought curiously at the figure in front of him from head to toe. 'Beautiful. Sexy. Even if it's too crowded to the point where it's almost ridiculous to look at,' Jordan valued in his heart.

"Sorry, if you guys are done doing whatever it is here. Please close the door again!" said Chantal Brickman as she walked casually past Jordan, who stood frozen without a word out of his mouth.

Suddenly, Chantal's hands were grabbed and jerked until her body was sent flying against the rigid body in the form of woven muscles hidden behind the gray Armani suit.

Chantal suddenly annoyed and took off her glasses with her left hand. "Who are you—you dare be rude to me?!" she demanded.

"HA–HA–HA! Who am I? Can you tell after you first tell me who you are, Miss?" Jordan replied sarcastically.

The beautiful woman shrugged her shoulders and pushed Jordan's chest to free herself from the man's tight embrace. She then stretched out her right hand in front of Jordan, which the other person had to shake. "Chantal Brickman. And who are you, Sir?" she said in a light tone.