Money to Burn

Money to Burn

Michael HH Warren

© Michael ‘Double-H’ Warren 2016

www.michaelhhwarren.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author. Brief excerpts may be cited in book reviews, provided the narrative quoted is verbatim and due credit is given by way of the book title and name of author.

Although this is a reality-based novel, it is a work of fiction nonetheless.

Names, characters, businesses and most incidents and events are either the products of the Author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, genuine businesses or actual incidents and events is purely coincidental. Artifacts, businesses, events, incidents, institutions, names and places evident and occurring in public domain source documents and resource repositories are true to life and therefore factual.

Cover design by Michael Corvin

Book design by Leila Summers

Edited by Paul Martin

Contents

Dedication

Author's Note

Chapter One: Proudly Perusha

Chapter Two: A Face from Her Husband's Past

Chapter Three: Twins of Blackmail

Chapter Four: My Party―I'll Cry if I Want To

Chapter Five: More Bad News

Chapter Six: The Set-up

Chapter Seven: Hey, Big Spender!

Chapter Eight: The Secret is Out

Chapter Nine: Sisters Are Doing It for Themselves

Chapter Ten: Your Notebook―Don't Leave Home Without It

Chapter Eleven: It's Not Over Until the Fat Lady Sings

Chapter Twelve: Going to Ground

Chapter Thirteen: For the Love of Money

Chapter Fourteen: Save the Last Dance for Me

Acknowledgments

Dedication

I dedicate this book to Kelly & Caden and Generation Z.

May your navigation through the

worlds of the haves and the have nots

be full of wisdom―tempered by

discernment and consideration.

Michael HH Warren

December 2016

Author’s Note

MONEY TO BURN is a fast-paced, modern day romantic novel, written about the difficulties of fitting into different families and different financial lifestyles.

While the grass may always seem greener on the other side of life, the exclusive, more lucrative lifestyle often comes with greater challenges and demands.

In this book you will meet US property and oil magnate Charleston Kingsley, someone everyone is trying to befriend, in order to get their hands on a share of his fortune. His gorgeous but naïve new bride from South Africa, Perusha Naicker, finds herself adjusting to her new high-class life, amid many opponents who want to see her fail and booted out of New York.

MONEY TO BURN will teach readers much about the dangers of living the high life, with its demanding, upmarket existence. These rich and powerful high-flyers often have more extreme daily and longer term challenges to face than the middle, working and poor classes.

Michael HH Warren

December 2016

Chapter One

Proudly Perusha

New York City was Perusha Naicker’s new home following her glitzy and glamorous marriage to American millionaire businessman Charleston Kingsley just over three months ago.

The 26-year-old former Miss South African beauty queen peered into her dressing table mirror, which not only allowed her to see her face, but also gave her an in-depth reflection at her new life and the material belongings that now surrounded her.

Life in the wealthy suburb of Sands Point in Long Island was awesome. It was certainly a big step up from her middle class upbringing in Lenasia, south of Johannesburg, South Africa, which was the home suburb for many Asian people.

The slim built former beauty queen blended some powder foundation across her face before applying her favorite red lipstick on her generous lips.

There were a few good reasons why Perusha Naicker favored the lipstick. Since winning the Miss South Africa beauty pageant title at the Sun City Superbowl in the North West Province of South Africa three years back, the doors of business had opened to welcome her.

Her ultimate dream of launching her own cosmetics line had become a reality and she smiled with pride as she glanced at the small bottles of Proudly Perusha products on the left hand side of her dressing table. Perusha Fuchsia was definitely the xxx of the line.

The market had already taken to her range in the US but she needed to focus on getting the brand into stores on other continents as well.

Her mind drifted back to the red lipstick that she was applying with precision. Charleston Kingsley had told her that the red shade was his favorite color lipstick on her lips.

Perhaps the businessman had just said it to score points but Perusha Naicker believed him and scarcely wore any other shade since her marriage.

Perusha had met property and oil tycoon Charleston Kingsley at a gala dinner in California three years back, when she was travelling the world in her beauty queen ambassadorial role for her country. There had been immediate chemistry between the pair.

Following their initial meeting, Kingsley had flown his new flame over to New York City on at least ten occasions before things became serious, which eventually led to an engagement announcement.

What an engagement party it had been at Kingsley’s mansion. It had been pretty much what Perusha only thought happened in the movies.

Waiters and waitresses moved around the large living room, carrying trays of snacks to more than 400 guests. Silver bowls containing only the best in caviar were close at hand. French champagne flowed. A room of happy people shared in a great moment for the future bride and bridegroom.

Perusha’s home in Lenasia, back in South Africa, had been nowhere near the high rolling life she had just become a part of. Her mother had worked herself to the bone in a pharmacy for over 40 years in a bid to do her absolute best for her four children.

Her father had long since abandoned the family and had returned to India, but when he heard that young Perusha was winning teen beauty queen titles and scoring a range of modeling contracts, he soon developed an interest.

By now, Vanesh Naicker had built his way up in Indian business circles and was a silent partner in Asian TV, a company that produced content for Bollywood television channels.

From a distance, it appeared that her father had plans to use his daughter in X-rated Bollywood movies.

After making a trip to South Africa to patch up his relationship with his daughter, he did something out of character.

Vanesh Naicker opened a trust account in the name of Perusha Naicker and deposited US$50 million in it. Surely he couldn’t be rejected by his daughter if he did this, even though he had walked out on his family twenty years ago?

What Vanesh Naicker didn’t know was that Perusha had already been for a Playboy magazine style shoot when she was 19 years of age, but after seeing the photos, the young model had chickened out and opted to discontinue the shoot.

Soon after that she had been a co-lead in a low budget adult movie produced in Johannesburg, in the course of which she spent more time with her clothes off than on. Again, she quit on the movies bosses, which resulted in a war of words between all parties and legal threats being made. Nothing ever happened. The storm died down.

Likewise, she had also had a stint at doing an overseas low budget adult movie, in the naïve belief that she would be given a break into the Bollywood scene in India, which had been promised her. Yet again, she quit on the Indian movie bosses, with much uproar and threats of legal action, but that too died down. Time was a great healer.

She certainly had the body to make men’s heads turn. Her Indian heritage had done her proud—she had gorgeous facial features, hazel colored eyes that inexplicably appeared to change color to any one of green, brown or even blue, depending on her mood, and a near-perfect figure.

Perusha Naicker had done extremely well to hook Charleston Kingsley who was also a very eligible bachelor among a host of female admirers, not only in New York City, but across the globe.

He spent a lot of time travelling to secure business deals in order to increase the equity of his property and oil empire and had to deal with a lot of gorgeous female business executives along the way.

‘Had to’ might be a bit too strong. Not many men would say no to the type of women that Kingsley sat opposite in meetings. Negotiating deals with professionalism and charm was the strength of the 50-year-old’s game-plan.

Luring and reeling in the eligible bachelor top of mind of every available female who had the honor of listening to his property and oil business pitches.

Kingsley knew the difference between a woman who was after his heart and a woman who was after his bank balance. He was very streetwise and had a small ring of friends and associates around him that he could trust. James Gregory, long time attorney to the millionaire, fitted into Kingsley’s A-Team.

Gregory was a no-nonsense type of guy and loyal to the core. Kingsley would never sign a contract without running it past his legal eagle for input.

The tall, well-built lawyer had been at college with his client at New York University. They had walked a long road together and each had the other’s back.

James Gregory had information about his client that few others on the planet had at their finger-tips.

Charleston Kingsley was not a millionaire—he was a billionaire.

Thanks to the business efforts of his father, Troy, who had taught Charleston Kingsley all he had ever needed to know about the property market, the younger Kingsley had used his talent and contacts to make it big.

Nowadays, he was worth well in access of the US$60 billion mark, of which US$50 billion had been placed in a Swiss bank account.

Charleston Kingsley’s incredible nett worth was something that he did not even share with his new bride.

Only James Gregory knew—because the lawyer was privy to the documentation. Besides Kingsley, Gregory was the only other person with access to the funds.

Besides his track record as a highly successful attorney, Gregory also had a superb gift on the investing front, and moved some of Kingsley’s money around to increase his wealth even further.

The lawyer loved Kingsley’s way of thinking.

When I get my money from your investment, do you know what I am going to do with it? Kingsley often joked with his attorney.

I am going to take my money and put it with my other money.

Meanwhile, as hard as Perusha had tried to make friends over the past few months, it seemed it was not going to be possible to win over everyone’s affection.

The build-up to her wedding day at the mansion was a testimony to that. While she was over the moon to be in the arms of Charleston Kingsley officially, his son from his first marriage had let her know, in no uncertain terms, that she shouldn’t have a chair at the Kingsley table.

Devon Kingsley was the 27-year-old son from Charleston Kingsley’s first marriage to Barbara Michaels, who was five years younger than her now ex-husband.

Young Kingsley and his wife Charlotte had made every effort to treat Perusha as an opportunistic gold digger. Even Perusha’s small band of New York female friends were being regarded in the same way.

Devon and Charlotte’s policy was simple—mix with Perusha Naicker and you would be an outcast in the eyes of the new regime Kingsley family.

Perusha looked back at the large dressing table mirror as she brushed her medium length black hair and then tied it back.

She hadn’t married for this lifestyle. Charleston Kingsley’s charm had won her heart. She hadn’t asked for the lavish wedding and two-week honeymoon in Switzerland. Again, it was all her husband’s idea, but clearly his conniving son and his wife weren’t going to buy that line.

As she straightened her blouse, Perusha remembered Charleston Kingsley’s one and only trip to her mother’s home in Lenasia near Johannesburg.

Even though the house and lifestyle was way below the high and mighty Kingsley standard of living, Charleston had never let on that he was a snob.

He had been gracious in spending time with his future mother-in-law, Levashne, and had even talked Perusha into cancelling a shopping spree trip to the upmarket Sandton City mall in Johannesburg North, to spend more time at the home in Lenasia.

If only Devon was more like his father, thought Perusha briefly, as she packed her touchscreen into her clutch handbag. Then again, maybe she was wrong to think that. Each man has his own character in order to live his own life.