Book One Up On Wall Street Novels & Stories

The media was still buzzing with my name, and I wasn’t in the mood to give them more fodder. Ultra sat at a corner table, his laptop open, blue light illuminating his sharp, almost hawkish features. Surrounding him was an array of gadgets and wires that made his table look like a tech shrine. He didn’t even glance up when I approached. “Mr. Vanderbilt,” he greeted, fingers flying across the keyboard. His voice carried that usual detached tone, as if I wasn’t his billionaire employer but just another piece of code he had to decipher. I pulled out the chair across from him and sat, shaking my head. “You could try starting with a hello.”

Tall windows, sleek furniture, and the city lights twinkling far below us. “About the deal?” Nathaniel asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the kitchen counter. I nodded, feeling the nervous energy build inside me. “I don’t know if I can do this, Nathaniel. Pretending… it’s not something I’m good at.” He watched me closely. “It’s not just pretending. It’s business. You’ll be helping me, and I’ll be helping you.” “But what if I can’t handle it? The attention, the lies…?” I asked, my voice trailing off.

Delatorre's room since there are a lot of flower decors around, including the wall. But the whole room was still elegant even though it does have strong feminine touches all over the place. It just took me a couple of hours to tidy it up and I proceed to room number two. Books, books, and books were everywhere. That was the first sight that welcomed me in this room and I'm pretty sure who owned this one, that would be Duke since Miss Portia mentioned that he is the bookworm in the family. I just never expected that he is this kind of bookworm that his room looks like a library. It is not hard for me to clean his room since almost everything is in place. I'm already getting tired and hungry w

I need to make good use of all that money I have making today and try to use it wisely if life turns upside down. After two hours, I was a bit hungry and decided to order something to eat. Lisa came back after thirty minutes with the very scrumptious pepper soup noodles which I usually buy as I sat down to devour before doing any other things. After ten minutes of devouring Such food, Lisa came to my office saying that someone was here to see the CEO of the Maxwell group company. At first she was so secretive in calling out the person's name to me but the moment I bellowed at her, she spit out the beans immediately on seeing that I was now getting Angry and impatient.

A man like that doesn't disappear for a decade just to avoid a fraud charge. ​I sat down at the mahogany desk in the corner and opened the laptop Julian had left for me. It was a high-end machine, but as I expected, it was locked down tighter than a federal vault. I smiled to myself, a small, sharp feeling of triumph blooming in my chest. Julian might be the King of Wall Street, but this was my kingdom.

Beatrice Vane was a name whispered in the dark corners of Wall Street—the elder sister Julian had never mentioned, the one who had been scrubbed from the family records after a scandal that nearly collapsed the New York Stock Exchange in the late nineties. While Silas Thorne had been a blunt instrument of corporate power, Beatrice was a scalpel. She didn't destroy companies; she hollowed them out from the inside until they collapsed under their own weight.

A month later, I was in my new headquarters on Fifth Avenue, reviewing documents. It was a forty-story skyscraper. I had leased the entire thirty-eighth floor. My assistant knocked and entered. “Miss Caroline, there’s a man named Claude Collins here to see you. Security says he’s been kneeling in the lobby for half an hour.” I didn’t look up. “Let him kneel. I don’t have time for him.” My assistant hesitated. “He says... he's willing to do anything if you'll drop the lawsuit…” “Drop it?” I looked up, a cold smile on my face. “Debts must be paid. That’s the rule on Wall Street, and it’s a basic principle of business. He will pay back every single cent.”

The silver Spirit of Ecstasy gleamed in the rain. The three thugs reached the car and surrounded it—and her. “Hey! Dumbass in the car! Stay out of this if you value your life!” the scar-faced man barked. Silence answered. Two seconds later, the rear window rolled down slowly. Inside, a man closed a merger file without looking at the thugs. His eyes fixed on Vivienne. Black suit. Gold-rimmed glasses. Wall Street’s untouchable power broker—Alexander. Drenched and battered, Vivienne’s eyes didn’t plead. They burned with raw survival instinct.

I shook my head bitterly in the quiet room as the distant sounds of passing cars and planes drifted through central London. I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand, my jaw tightening. I was done letting Julian Cross confuse me with stolen kisses and fleeting moments of softness. I was done looking like a fool every time he was around me. I came here for one thing and one thing only. TO DESTROY THE GHOST OF WALL STREET. A sharp knock echoed through the room.

Dust danced in the narrow rays of light that peeked through the closed blinds. Vinnie sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair with a thick cigar between his fingers. His cold eyes were half-lidded as smoke curled around his face, giving him an almost spectral appearance. Behind him hung a large painting of an eagle perched atop a bleeding crown, his symbol of power. “Boss, I’ve got some news,” came the gravelly voice of Dan, one of Vinnie’s most trusted men, as he walked into the room with a confident gait.