"Of course, I'm not sure exactly when it'll happen, but I've got a gut feeling—this current boom? It's just the last gasp before the crash."
Dunn's words sent a chill down Scott Swift's spine. "A crash? Isn't that a bit dramatic?"
Dunn chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Let's just say a bigger stock market mess is coming! We made a killing during the last bubble crisis, and we're not missing out this time either. Scott, I'm the boss—trust me on this!"
Some things Dunn knew for sure, but explaining them clearly to a pro like Scott Swift? Way too tricky. So he half-bluffed, half-bossed his way through it.
"But the future's so unpredictable…"
"It's always a gamble!"
Dunn was starting to get annoyed.
Scott Swift frowned. "Sure, but… the first half of this year, we already bet wrong. As it stands, we're down at least a billion! Dunn Capital's wealth has shrunk by 27%. If the second half goes the same way, half our fortune could just vanish."
Dunn shrugged it off. "Win big, lose small—that's how it goes. All this money at Dunn Capital? We won it in the first place. Look, it's settled, no more debating!"
Scott Swift sighed. He'd seen this coming.
Dunn switched gears. "Right now, the buzz out there… it's too quiet. You've got tons of contacts—spread the word."
"Spread the word?" Scott Swift blinked, caught off guard. "About what?"
"About me playing the stock market and losing big, obviously!"
"No way, that'll tank your reputation…"
Dunn smirked, totally unbothered. "Reputation? Who cares? Cold, hard cash is what matters!"
There were things he didn't spell out.
The louder the noise, the better it was for him.
There's no such thing as a stock market god who only wins— not even Buffett pulls that off.
This short-selling flop could strip away Dunn's "invincible" aura, lowering the guard of anyone watching him too closely. That'd make his next big win way easier.
If he went all-in shorting Nasdaq and the NYSE, tossing around billions, it'd definitely catch the feds' and regulators' attention.
Too much heat. Better to play it safe.
Take a small hit now, then cash in quietly later.
A mix of wins and losses—that looks normal.
"June's when we pull the plug, no matter how much we're down. The strategy stays put! Then in July, we go big on another short!"
Dunn wasn't great at the nitty-gritty execution—he wasn't the expert.
But with his foresight, his big-picture strategy? Dead-on.
…
"Oh! You're here!"
Angela Lindvall's blue eyes sparkled like gems as she looked at Dunn in the doorway, clearly thrilled.
Dunn grinned. "Not welcome?"
"How could you not be? You're the man of the house." Angela gave him a light hug and slipped her arm through his. "This is your first time here, you know!"
They were in a swanky high-rise duplex in Manhattan's Battery Park City—over 1,000 square meters of pure luxury, costing more than $35 million.
Angela helped Dunn shrug off his jacket, testing the waters. "So… staying the night?"
"Yeah."
"Should I call a few girlfriends over then?"
Dunn paused, then waved it off. "Next time. Six hours on a plane—I'm beat."
Angela nodded sweetly. "I'll have the maid get things ready then. How about a hot bath soon? There's a massage tub too."
Dunn gave a small nod. "Sounds good."
He wandered out to the balcony, where a cushy sunbathing chair waited. He didn't hesitate—just flopped right down. It was soft, with a faint sweet scent. Felt nice.
A minute later, Angela sashayed over with two glasses of fruit wine, her hips swaying as she sat beside him.
"No wonder you love apartments," Dunn said. "The whole of Manhattan's right there in front of you."
He beckoned her over, and Angela flashed a sugary smile, snuggling up next to him.
"I've been seeing tons of stuff about you in the papers," she said, biting her lip hesitantly.
Dunn squinted lazily, one arm around her. His hand had already slipped under her nightgown, brushing her waist, but his face stayed calm. "What about? Movies… or finance?"
"Both."
"Oh?"
Dunn thought for a second, then caught on and laughed. "You're worried I've lost too much in the stock market and might back out?"
Angela's cheeks flushed pink, her blue eyes shimmering.
Dunn brushed it off casually. "Relax! The little bit I've lost in stocks? Doesn't even faze me. What I promised you, you'll get—as long as you play by my rules."
"I know, I've been good!" Angela blurted out, a little nervous.
She had to be.
Those two Brazilian supermodels Dunn had set up in an East Manhattan townhouse—Alessandra Ambrosio and Adriana Lima—got kicked out just a month ago.
Why? They didn't follow the rules. Out partying with guys at a bar in the middle of the night.
Angela had known about it all along.
They were Brazilian girls who'd never lived in a global hotspot like New York before. Back then, they'd been hustling for their careers and survival. But with Dunn, life got easy—plenty of time for fun and games.
Still, Angela knew they were just messing around. Nothing too wild—just dancing with some hot guys, with Dunn's bodyguards right there. No way they could've gotten up to much.
Even so, Dunn cut them loose without a second thought!
After that, Angela—who was already big on keeping her word—tightened up her own behavior even more.
Invites from guys—dates, dinners, whatever—she turned them down whenever she could.
She wasn't about to risk ticking Dunn off.
Rules were rules!
She had to stick to them!
Angela adored this luxe apartment Dunn had bought her—it was like paradise. No way she'd mess up and lose it over something dumb.
Dunn's lips quirked up, and he nodded, pleased. "I trust you. I don't get to New York much, but I always know how you're doing."
Angela giggled, feeling his hand roam under her nightgown. It tickled, and she pressed herself against his chest, her eyes turning flirty.
Dunn smirked, pulling her up. "Come on, let's hit the bedroom."
Angela practically bounced with excitement.
…
"How'd I do?"
"Not bad!"
"Phew!" Angela patted her chest. "Ever since we got together, I haven't gone out with a guy in months."
Dunn took the water glass she handed him, sitting on the bed's edge. He took a few sips and grinned. "Good. A little thirst makes you more irresistible."
Angela shot him a playful glare. "Jerk!"
After resting a bit, Dunn wrapped an arm around her and headed to the bathroom. Out of nowhere, he asked, "By the way, Victoria's Secret… any new faces lately?"
Angela smirked. "Missing those Brazilian girls already?"
Dunn gave her a look. "Answer the question!"
She tilted her head, thinking. "There's one. Super pretty, great runway walk, and young!"
"Oh? Who?"
"Karolina Kurkova. We call her KK. She's a Czech model, only 17."
Dunn stopped in his tracks.
Karolina Kurkova—the KK!
A huge name in modeling, just as big as this "sly fox" Angela Lindvall.
Seeing Dunn's interest, Angela grinned. "We get along okay. Want me to call her over tonight? She'd… definitely be up for it."
Dunn hesitated. "Seventeen's kinda…"
"No big deal! This is New York, not LA!" Angela said, brushing it off.
Dunn mulled it over. "She doesn't have a 'boss,' right?"
"Boss" meaning a sugar daddy pulling the strings.
Angela shrugged. "I don't think so. She's new, not famous yet. Plus, she's got high standards—most guys wouldn't cut it for her."
Dunn raised an eyebrow. "But I would?"
Angela laughed, covering her mouth. "Oh, you totally would! Young, hot, generous, and built—you're basically every woman's dream guy."
"Hmm. Call her over then. No 'boss' is perfect. She's mine."
"Bold move!"
Angela tugged him into the bathroom. The fancy round tub was already filled. She glanced back with a shy smile. "How about we wait for her and all hop in together?"
"Doubting my stamina?"
"Pfft! No way—I believe you!"