Ruthless Mogul, page 1
CONTENTS
…
Synopsis
Ruthless Mogul
A Note From Whitney G.
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
—
The CEO
Dante
—
—
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dante
—
The CEO
Dante
The Agent
Chloe
The Agent
Chloe
The CEO
Dominic
…
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2026 by Whitney Gracia Williams.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover design by Qamber Designs & Media
For anyone who has ever stolen from their job & never gotten caught…
SYNOPSIS
RUTHLESS MOGUL
That moment when you show million-dollar apartments for a living—and quietly start sleeping in them because your place is the size of a shoebox…
I’ve been getting away with it for two years. No complaints, no close calls, nothing.
Until one afternoon a billionaire CEO walks in and finds me in his shower.
As much as I want to play it off, I’m completely naked and completely screwed.
This man’s heated stare is bad enough.
His name is worse.
Dante Hudson.
He’s the mogul behind Hudson International, which means he owns almost every building in this city, my job, and—at this point—my immediate future.
Within seconds, he’s threatening charges, termination, and making sure I never work in this city again.
So I do the only thing I can.
I run like hell and hope to never see him again.
It doesn’t work…
He knows where to find me, but to my surprise, he’s not interested in turning me in.
He has an offer instead.
A terrible, ‘you better not sign this’ deal, but I have no choice.
If I make it out of this without ruining my life, I swear I’m done breaking the rules.
…At least intentionally.
A NOTE FROM WHITNEY G.
Dear Awesome Reader,
Thank you so much for picking up Ruthless Mogul! I hope you enjoy reading this “steamy espresso read” as much as I enjoyed writing it!
If you want to be the first to learn of my upcoming releases, sales, and special things that I only offer to my readers, be sure to sign up for my Exclusive F.L.Y. List. (F.L.Y. = Effin Love You. Because whether you love or hate this story, I still love you for giving it a chance!)
Sincerely,
THE CEO
DANTE
Being a “billionaire” was supposed to mean that I was entitled to buy whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
No price tag was too large, no budget was ever too much to consider, and the words “I want it” meant sold.
Period.
For years, I’d used my status to stamp my name all over this city. It sat on everything from the sleek skyscrapers that gleamed against the Hudson River’s waters, to the glittering glass condos that dotted Manhattan, and even the high-rise apartments that stood guard in Brooklyn and The Bronx.
And yet, the building I wanted the most—the one that I’d offered quadruple the asking price to buy—was being held hostage by protesters and city officials who hated me.
For no reason.
Well, no “good” reason.
“Mr. Hudson Is Too Damn Rich! He Can Eat a Bag of Dicks!” a deranged woman shouted into a megaphone as I stepped out of my car.
“Hey! Hey! Not Today!” her psycho colleague joined her. “The Holden Building Is Here to Stay!”
Usually, I would sip my coffee and stare at them while they screamed—letting them get a hint of satisfaction at me “listening” to them, but I didn’t have time today.
Moving past their signs, I strolled into my building and headed for the elevator.
“How long do you want to let them protest before we call the police today, Mr. Hudson?” my head security guard asked.
“You can give them five more minutes.”
“Are you pressing charges for trespassing?”
“Always.” I nodded. “Be sure to send the judge a gift in my name as well.”
“Very well, sir.”
The doors glided shut before the elevator carried me to my top floor.
I headed into the boardroom, anxious for this morning’s strategy meeting with my top assistants, highest-selling real estate agents, and the top person I trusted in my company: my executive broker, Anthony.
Taking a seat at the head of the table, I flipped open a brand-new folder titled “Ways to Make People Love Dante Hudson So He Can Buy The Holden.”
“Word of advice before we get started, Dante…” Anthony leaned closer. “Thank them for their hard work before storming off, and don’t threaten to fire them at the end.”
“If they give me some good ideas and suggestions, I won’t.” I adjusted my tie. “Making me look good is an easy job, trust me. I’ve looked in the mirror.”
“It would be easy if people in this city didn’t hate you,” he said. “They cannot stand you.”
“Lies.” I shook my head. “They admire me.”
“Your money, maybe, but that’s it. You are literally despised.”
“That won’t last long.” I waved a hand and cleared my throat. “I’m listening. Give me the ideas.”
“Well…” Alisha, the head of my luxury rental buildings, stood up from her seat. “We’ve all agreed that while your current persona may lean on the more ruthless and uh, evil billionaire side, we can correct that with some good ol’ community service from you.”
I arched a brow.
“We’re thinking that you could help the landscaping team plant some new flowers at all the parks you own.” She smiled. “Perhaps you can do that once a month.”
“No. Hell no.”
“It’s a good idea,” Anthony whispered. “It’ll make you look human.”
“I pay people to do my landscaping for a reason.” I rolled my eyes. “Next idea.”
“You could help clean up the lobby at one of the mid-tier complexes,” Alisha’s voice wavered. “We could make it a photo opportunity to show how much you care about everything in your portfolio.”
“I say ‘no’ to gardening, but you think I’ll say yes to scrubbing toilets?”
Her face paled and she looked around the room.
“What else?” I glared at her. “What are the other ideas that will make me come off less ruthless and more ‘let me buy The Holden?’”
“There’s also the idea of you giving all your tenants a few free months of rent?” Her voice was faint. “Everyone would run wild with how generous you are if you did that.”
“If I let people get away with not paying rent, how do I make money?”
“Well, you won’t…but just for like three months.”
“Then how about everyone in this room surrenders their paychecks instead?”
The room fell silent.
“These are the ideas you’ve been working on for weeks?” I felt my blood simmering. “This is it?”
“We’re working very hard, sir.”
“This meeting is over.” I stood up. “You all need to start looking for new jobs by the end of the week.”
I left the room and felt Anthony rushing after me.
“You literally did the exact opposite of what I suggested, Dante.” He groaned. “It’s not their fault you have a terrible reputation.”
“I just want to buy a goddamn building,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to do circus tricks to write a check.”
“I agree,” he said, sighing. “But if your heart is set on The Holden, you can start by being a bit nicer to everyone around you. You should also meet with the mayor again.”
“I’m not sucking up to him,” I said. “If he doesn’t want to sell it to me—”
“He doesn’t, Dante.” He narrowed his eyes. He doesn’t want your name on it at all.”
“I’ll send him a gift basket.”
“That’s a start.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll go tell the team to try again.”
“Thank you.” I made my way down the hall, ready to call this day a loss already.
When I made it to my office, my favorite assistant Stacy was pacing near my windows.
“Give me some good news.” I sat at my desk. “Only good news.”
“You have someone who wants to tour your exclusive penthouse suite at The Bergman.”
“That is very good news.” I smiled. “How serious is the client?”
“Very serious.” She stepped closer, handing me a folder. “His name is Bryan Fleming. I looked into his financials and he can definitely afford it.”
“You said that with the last guy, and he wasn’t a prince from Nigeria like he claimed.”
“That one wasn’t my fault.”
“The eight ones before were…” I flipped through the pages, not wanting to get optimistic at all.
At seventy million dollars, this was the most expensive condo in my collection, and it received constant attention from realtors and tours.
But no one was willing to buy.
“He claims he’s the CFO at Parker Hotels?” I looked at her. “Did you check the website?”
“I personally called the CEO and he verified it.”
“What about—”
“I called our special insiders at every bank he listed, looked into every car he owns, and yes—he already owns a couple of multi-million-dollar listings.” She crossed her arms. “I did my complete due diligence.”
“Would you stake your life on it?”
“Ha! No.” She shook her head. “I would stake yours, though.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“He’s flying into town this afternoon.” She dodged the subject. “Can I confirm the tour?”
“Sure.”
“Well, wait. Before I do that…” She tapped her lip. “I need permission to spend the rest of the morning there to make sure it’s as picture-perfect as it can possibly be.”
“Call the housekeeping director and ask him to handle that.”
“He’s the one who suggested it,” she said. “He mentioned that someone keeps messing up the master bedroom and bathroom every few days, and it’s not his staff.”
“Mess up how?”
“Just by leaving the floors wet, placing the dishes in the wrong places, and creating wrinkles in the bedspread,” she said. “It’s driving the cleaners mental, and they think it’s paranormal activity.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I think it’s ghosts, too,” she said. “They’re probably serving up the karma you deserve for being so cold and heartless all these years…”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “I could use some air, so I’ll look into things myself,” I said. “Tell Mr. Fleming that he will get a personal tour from me whenever he arrives.”
THE AGENT
CHLOE
“Growing up in poverty made me work harder than ever, and if YOU work half as hard as me, you might get here, too.”
What a load of billionaire bullshit.
I flipped through this month’s copy of Property Mogul, hating that this would be the first issue I would have to burn.
The editors usually picked likable and relatable people for the cover shot and interview, so I was convinced they’d been high on something stronger than weed when they chose Dante Hudson.
Sure, he was by far the sexiest person to grace the front page, but he was also the most egotistical, self-absorbed, and terrible person as well.
Even though the man’s fingerprints touched every corner of this city, and clients were more likely to buy when they saw his ridiculous owl-eyes logo on the listing, he was an undeserving asshole.
Trust me, I would know.
I worked in one of his realtor offices, and I was renting a place in one of his lower-end units.
This man had never been worth less than six figures a day in his life, and I couldn’t believe he was trying to make any person with a brain buy into a fake-ass sob story.
The moment I made a major sale, I was leaving his realty company and working for someone else.
Anyone else.
After tossing the magazine into the trash, I rolled out of bed and grabbed my shower caddy.
Slipping down the hall, I knocked on the floor’s bathroom door.
“Hello?” I called out. “Is anyone in there?”
I hesitated before knocking again.
Since I had to share it with three other tenants, I’d learned that each of them had their own way of saying “yes” without saying a word.
Several seconds passed without the slight jiggle of the door handle, a tap against the sink, or a cough that sounded like the plague.
Pushing the door open, I placed a sock on the door and slammed it shut.
I immediately wished I hadn’t.
Strands of hair that didn’t belong to me clung to the sink, and whoever used the shower last hadn’t wiped down the glass doors.
Why is this my life?
Sighing, I tightened the strap on my rubber sandals and turned on the water.
I held a hand under the stream, waiting for it to warm, but the water’s temperature dropped with every passing second.
My fingers went numb, begging me to withdraw from the cold.
Before I could call the landlord, the stream slowed to a trickle.
Then it cut off.
What the hell?
“Heads up, floor thirty-three!” a gruff voice shouted from the hall. “We’re doing some maintenance on the pipes today!”
“Really, Mr. Rowen?” I opened the door and glared at him. “Why can’t you ever tell us a week before? Hell, even a day before?”
“Because—” He shrugged. “I can’t predict when the rats are going to chew through the tubing, Miss Sterling. I’m not a fortune teller.”
“Sorry I even mentioned it.”
“You’re forgiven,” he said. “Make sure you don’t have any food boxes on your floor. I’ve already caught four of ’em on the floor below you.”
UGHHHH!
Swallowing a scream, I returned to my room and pulled on a dress.
I couldn’t risk another day without taking a warm shower, so I pulled out my phone and looked over my list of upcoming condo showings.
My next one wasn’t scheduled until Wednesday afternoon, and that was too far away.
I logged into the Hudson Luxury portal and scrolled through the most expensive listings.
These were the places that sat on the market just to remind people like me that there was an entirely different version of life happening above our heads.
Checking the appointments, I saw that my favorite penthouse condo—the one in The Bergman building—was clear.
As usual.
Its floors of imported marble, museum-sized windows, private elevator access, and a view so high above Manhattan that the traffic below seemed imaginary made me feel like I was living in a dream every time I walked through its private doors.
I marked the unit for “private showing” and packed my bag.
An hour later
The Bergman’s lead receptionist nodded at me the moment I stepped into the lobby.
“Morning, Miss.” She smiled. “How may I help you?”
“I’m meeting a realtor here for a private tour.”
“Which suite?”
“It’s one of the first-tier ones,” I lied. “The Forman, I believe.”
“Oh! Well, do you already know which elevator to take?”
“Absolutely.” I nodded. “Thank you so much.”
“Well, if you have extra time while you’re here, ask your realtor to show you the penthouse unit. I have a feeling that one is finally going to sell soon.”
Not at its ridiculous price point.
I smiled anyway. “I’ll ask her to show me. Thank you.”
