es. It hadn't taken much effort on my part because they'd always wanted me. That, in a way, is possibly what bored me of them pretty quickly. I'd never found a woman who challenged me. Who didn't go after me from the moment she knew I had even the slightest interest in her. Who treated me like just any other guy, rather than a billionaire.
Well . . . not until now. Not until Lilah.
So what the hell was going on here? Why was one woman causing me all this confusion and, as much as I hate to say it, heartache? Was it simply the fact that she was making herself out to be unattainable, and that I simply didn't believe there was anything in this world that I couldn't have?
Or was there something more? I’d considered that for the last four days, I had no idea she was going to tell me it was a mistake and walk away. And for those four days, she was all I could think about, even in the midst of saving a wildlife refuge.
So, what did that mean? It meant that my feelings for Lilah weren’t based solely on her being a challenge. It meant this was unfamiliar territory for me. It meant more. One word kept sneaking back into my head—a word I didn’t want to consider: love.
The word scared me because I couldn't say for sure if I even believed in it. I'd had many things growing up, many things that other kids only dreamed of. I'd been a billionaire by the age of 20, but I'd never had love. I'd only had flings, affairs, and casual encounters—things that money, power, and prestige could buy.
I couldn't buy love though, that had turned out to be true.
So there I was, sitting in a pizza parlor with a slice of pizza dangling from my hand that I hadn’t even taken a bite of. I could have been sitting there for ten seconds or maybe ten minutes. Time seemed to have ceased its march leaving me spinning in the strange, surreal moment.
I put the pizza down on my plate and called a waiter over.
“Hey, buddy,” I said to the teenager, “do you think I could get this wrapped up, to go? I'm not really in the mood for it right now.”
“Uh, sure,” he said as he took the plate away.
He came back a few minutes later with the pizza slice packed neatly into a box. I smiled, left him a big tip, and then walked back to the office, wondering if I was in a trance. I paused as I got to the Sinclair Building and looked up at it, rising majestically up into the sky.
“I own this,” I said to myself. “I own this building and most everything in it. It's got my name on it. Yet . . .” I trailed off and shook my head.
This was a first. I'd had moments where I'd felt like I was losing my edge, losing my focus, but never like this. In fact, I'd always prided myself in how utterly focused, and often ruthless and calculating, I could be. I had always remained razor sharp like the Japanese katana that Colonel Tanaka had given me.
Yet, at the moment, I felt blunted and dulled. I couldn’t go on like this—something had to give.
I strode into the building—my building—with purpose. When the elevator reached my floor, I went straight to my office and told my PA to hold any incoming calls for the afternoon. I had a plan to regain my edge and that began with shifting into overdrive and powering through everything I needed to get done. In fact, I was going to stay here late—until midnight if needed—and then do it again tomorrow. I was going to need to take Friday and the following Monday off to make it a four-day weekend, so I needed to get everything done by the end of Thursday. It would be hard but, for a workaholic like me, it was doable.
Before I jumped in, I needed to make a call—just to make sure what I was planning was actually possible.
I took out my phone and dialed a number. It took a while to connect, but eventually I heard the sound of the other party's phone ringing. After a while, a familiar voice answered: an old, hoarse voice. The voice of a man who was now nearly 90 years old. I spoke in Japanese to communicate with him.
“Colonel Tanaka, my most revered teacher. It is I, Asher Sinclair.”
“Sinclair-san! It is wonderful to hear your voice again.”
“I need your help, Colonel.”
“You are like a son to me, Sinclair-san. I will do anything in my power to assist you in this matter that is troubling you.”
“May I come to see you and stay at your estate?”
“You are always welcome here, Sinclair-san. When do you propose to come?”
“Soon. Friday, if that's possible.”
“I will have my servants prepare a room for you.”
“Excellent. I'll drive straight there as soon as my jet touches down.”
“I look forward to seeing you, Sinclair-san.”
“And I you, Colonel.”
Without further ado I put my phone away and started on my work. There was a lot to get through by Thursday evening, and I needed my mind to be clear by the time my plane touched down in Japan on Friday morning. I needed it crystal-clear.