Lonzo: Book 1 (Tycoon Series Book 1) Read Free

was proof that she was the most important girl among the brood of models who were walking behind them. She turned, offering the audience one more glimpse at Vera Wang’s creative genius.
    When Vera asked her to swivel, she gamely did—so immersed in this magical world of fashion and its pageantry.
    She was no longer the waitress who served grilled sandwiches to bored tourists, the same one who subsisted on tips and less-than-minimum wage.
    The simple orphan girl from Sao Paolo had come a long way. “Faccia di merda! Figlio di puttana!”
    Lucca Agnelli’s booming voice carried the vicious words toward the individual seated at the head of the boardroom table.
    The air thickened with tension. Every attendee nervously glanced at the handsome man who was the subject of his verbal abuse.
    The younger man was impassive and unperturbed, his eyes hooded and unreadable. He would’ve been a great poker player, for he never showed an ounce of emotion. He remained seated and continued drinking his coffee as if he was in a cafe, his manner and posture relaxed.
    The fucking bastard.
    Despite Lucca’s insult, the man smiled. Almost cordially. Yet the spectators in the room knew what the smile meant.
    A kiss of death.
    The man had a reputation. He had the instincts of a Great White shark, and like the predator that he was, he smelled his blood a mile away. This boardroom battle was over before it even began, Lucca knew in his heart. The bastardo was merely biding his time, toying with his prey. And in this case, it was him, Lucca Agnelli, the once mighty Chairman of Gruppo Milanese.
    His opponent unhurriedly put his coffee cup down before he spoke.
    “Let us cut the bull, Lucca. We both know that Gruppo Milanese is in deep shit. You’re in deep shit. The value of the company dipped to just a third of last year’s valuation,” the younger man drawled.
    “You lie!” came his vehement denial.
    The man’s smile grew wider but it never quite reached his eyes.
    “You want me to tell that to the shareholders? How you divested their money to fill your offshore accounts? Do you really want me to rip you open for all the world to see, old man? Because I can indulge you and make you bleed if that’s what you want. I don’t back down from anything or anyone,” the man stated, each word a thinly-veiled threat. “So what’s it gonna be? I’m game for anything.”
    Lucca lost his bearings. He thought that his adversary would never unearth his secret stash. He’d been very careful. But apparently, not careful enough.
    He had grossly underestimated his younger opponent.
    Lucca thought he was nothing but a punk on a lucky streak, buying one company after another. He thought Gruppo Milanese was simply too big for him to takeover.
    Several months ago, he had openly laughed at the audacity of this man to target his company. He told the press that GM was too high for this mongrel to touch. He should have listened to his advisers. It was too late when he found out that his foe had been buying shares of GM using his diverse business entities. Before he knew it, his rival had accumulated enough shares to earn a seat at GM’s board.
    “You got two options, Lucca. Sell off your controlling shares and let me takeover or hold on to your pride and face a possible inquiry from the visura camirale ...which I assure you will eventually lead to further unpleasantness, not to mention, financial and social ruin. Your choice.”
    Lucca knew he had ran out of options. The company owned by his family for generations, his legacy, would be no more. He had to bite the bullet and sell.
    It was either that or public disgrace, one that could potentially overshadow the fall of the Guccis.
    Losing GM was like a death sentence.
    “Damn you!” he told his nemesis, but his voice held no conviction.
    He caved in. The enormous pressure was too much for him to handle.
    He was a defeated man.
    The younger man didn’t even flinch at his outburst. Seemed that he had even