Chapter 1

CONAN Group was one of the most powerful corporations in the country. As its CEO, Dashiel Nilsson intended to keep it that way.

He'd taken the helm at twenty-five. Now, at forty-eight, he had grown the company his grandfather had fought to build into something far greater than the old man could have imagined.

"Sir, President Wilson from SILEM has requested a meeting to discuss the joint venture between our two companies." His assistant's voice drifted through the intercom. The man had deep circles under his eyes and a look of permanent fatigue — there had been too much work lately for anything resembling rest.

"Call him and tell him I'll meet with him in three hours," Dashiel said, his voice low and steady. At forty-eight, he still looked younger than his years, though the toll of relentless work showed in the sharpness of his features. His pale blue eyes carried faint shadows beneath them, and his black hair — threaded with silver at the temples — was slightly disheveled.

"Sir, are you sure three hours is best? You have three other meetings to attend, and you know how those tend to run long," the assistant ventured cautiously.

Dashiel lifted his gaze from the documents spread across his desk, glanced at his watch, then stood and reached for his jacket.

"Call him. Tell him we'll meet at his office in three hours. As for the other meetings, I'll make sure each one ends on time." He pulled on his jacket and headed for the door.

The assistant sighed in resignation. He had a feeling he'd be working himself into the ground again today.

As they walked toward the conference room, employees — women especially — couldn't help staring at Dashiel's tall frame. Most of them couldn't fathom how a man that handsome hadn't found a wife and started a family by now. Then again, they had to admit they wouldn't be eager to marry someone who seemed surgically fused to his company.

Dashiel entered the conference room where the executives were already assembled. The low buzz of conversation died the instant he walked in. He crossed the room without glancing at anyone, took his seat, checked his watch once more, and let his blue eyes sweep over the people sitting around the table. Their expressions tightened under his gaze.

When they saw him check his watch, every executive in the room understood: the clock was already ticking.

"Gentlemen, each of you has a maximum of five minutes to present the topics that need to be addressed. Now that we're clear on that — let's begin." The words drew a collective look of we saw this coming before the first speaker launched in.

Over the next three hours, Dashiel and his assistant moved from one meeting to the next in quick succession. By the time the last internal meeting ended, the poor assistant wore the expression of a man who'd been raised from the dead. Three hours didn't sound like much, but the pressure had been intense enough that he was sure he'd collapse at any second.

"Sir, Mr. William's assistant informed me that he's reserved a private dining room at a restaurant for your meeting. I'm sending you the address now."

"Tell him we'll be there as soon as possible." Dashiel was already in his office, gathering the documents he'd need for the meeting with Mr. William. As he finished loading them into his briefcase, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from his sister. An invitation to a family dinner. Dashiel didn't finish reading it before he turned off his phone.

He didn't have time for that sort of thing.

In an elegantly appointed private dining room, Dashiel sat across from Mr. William. After receiving his sister's message and shutting off his phone, he'd headed straight to the restaurant with his assistant in tow.

Mr. William was a man of about sixty, his hair entirely silver, his face carrying the expression of a wise and kindly grandfather. Beside him sat a woman in her fifties — poised, with a warm smile and a professional bearing. According to what Dashiel knew, she had been Mr. William's assistant for years.

"Dashiel Nilsson, it's been a while since we've spoken. I believe the last time we saw each other was at CONAN Group's fiftieth anniversary celebration — I was invited, what, four years ago?" Mr. William studied Dashiel as he spoke. He had known Dashiel's parents. The late Mr. and Mrs. Nilsson had been an enviable couple, both successful, supporting each other in every aspect of their lives. Tragically, they had left the world too soon. Fortunately, their children had proven more than capable of continuing — and improving — the legacy they'd left behind.

"That's right, it has been a long time. I'm glad we're meeting again with the aim of having our companies work together," Dashiel replied with a measured smile.

Mr. William laughed. "You're just like your father when it comes to business — neither of you wastes a second before getting straight to the point."

"I suppose you're right about that," Dashiel said, his expression unchanged. He had no taste for idle conversation. He preferred to steer things toward the topics that actually mattered.

"Mr. William, I've brought the documents we'll need for our discussion. Why don't you take a look?" He handed a set of papers to his assistant, who passed them along.

Mr. William sighed with a hint of resignation as he accepted the documents.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***