The Price Possession

TAYLOR

The office worker bees were calling it a day. I still had hours of work before I could rest.

Being CEO didn’t fit comfortably into a nine-to-five cycle.

I was finishing up reviewing a few prospectus reports when there was a light knock on my office door.

“No one has to stick around for me, have a good night,” I said without losing my place on the page.

“No one has to wait for you? I know that’s not true,” said an alluring female voice. I recognized it before I looked up.

Everly Grey. Yet again. “Tom had a meeting, thought I’d come by with him, say hello.”

I waved her inside quickly. “Shut the door. We shouldn’t be seen together. What do you want?”

She stepped inside, closing the door. “I wanted to talk about what happened last night.”

Here she was, back in my orbit again. The last woman I’d had true feelings for.

The last woman I’d allowed to hurt me.

I turned back to my report, trying to block her out. “There’s nothing to talk about. It was a mistake.”

I wanted to be done talking, but she was like a song stuck in my head.

She didn’t move.

I tossed aside the reports. “What do you want? Why did you come here, why are you with Tom?”

“He and I fell in love. It was years ago between you and me, Taylor. I didn’t think my being here would upset you so much. I certainly didn’t expect last night…”

She was unbelievable. Anger welled up within me, and I had to look away.

“I missed you, Taylor!”

No word for years, and then she shows back up, unannounced, with a giant ring on her finger from one of my most important allies.

I stood and crossed to the door and opened it to allow her out. “If that was what you wanted to tell me, you could have sent an email.”

“I forgot how harsh you are.” She cleared her throat, getting down to business. “I…the woman who saw us last night…?”

“I’m handling it already. Anything else?”

Relief washed over her. She put a grateful hand on my arm for handling the Kate Dawson issue.

But her hand lingered on my arm. “I can’t stay away from you, Taylor.”

I shook her off me. “Move on with your life, marry Tom, and just…”

I searched for words. How did she not get this? “It’s over between us. Let it be over. Tom is my partner and my friend. Don’t fuck with his heart, and don’t fuck with ~my~ company. Is that clear?”

“Please don’t be angry at me, Taylor. You know my heart still belongs to you.”

My lips curled back in a snarl. I was ready to pounce on her last words, but a buzz came over my intercom.

“Taylor? That phone call you were waiting for…?”

My stomach dropped.

Dante Luciano.

How long had that name been an immediate stress trigger for me?

I didn’t remember a time in my life before I knew him, before I wished I’d never heard his name before.

Everly saw the change in my mood and seemed worried about me. Before she could say anything else, I put up a hand.

“I have to take this. Go. Live your life. Leave me alone.”

The door was closing before she realized it, before she had a chance to argue.

For the second time, I’d gotten rid of her.

Now I had the real problem to deal with…

KATE

Rick was always great at helping me with the right idea at the right moment. I knew I could count on him to back me up, even if that meant disobeying an order from our editor.

He had a knack for helping to pop the kernel of a story into something bigger, and his suggestion to check out what was happening at Jameson Enterprises was right on the money.

Their headquarters was downtown, and there was a park nearby. Lots of motion, lots of activity.

Easy for lingering around without seeming suspicious.

I was there the next morning, parked in my old Jeep, at 6 a.m.

If Taylor Price was going to censor my newspaper, I wasn’t going to let him get the jump on me by sleeping in.

To kill the time, I wrote the trite parade prep article Arthur put me on. It was a joke and took less than an hour to finish.

Then I was back to the bored, uncomfortable waiting game that is investigative reporting.

Fortunately, Taylor didn’t make me wait long.

Around 9:00 a.m., he stepped out of a limo in a form-hugging black suit, white shirt, and black tie. Perfect for attending an awards ceremony…

...or celebrating a hostile takeover.

He was joined by a handful of executives, all of whom filed into the building.

I spilled coffee on my backseat in the scramble to grab my binoculars.

Taylor and his team approached what I assumed was a group of Jameson Enterprises’ executives waiting for them in the lobby.

After handshakes, they headed for the elevator, but Taylor stopped when an assistant passed him a cell phone.

His entire demeanor changed when he saw who it was.

He excused himself and exited the lobby to take the call in private.

The rest of the group piled into an elevator.

Seeing the elevator doors close sent a shiver up my spine at the memory of my last experience in an elevator.

Taylor talked into the phone, looking up and down the street, possibly searching for the person on the other end of the call.

An older man with white hair approached him. He was on his phone, and the two of them hung up simultaneously before the man spread his arms for Taylor to give him a hug.

He looked leisurely, perpetually at ease. He carried a walking stick he didn’t seem to need but enjoyed holding.

Taylor glanced over his shoulder—as if he was worried to be seen with the man.

It was hard to make out through the binoculars, but Taylor didn’t look as happy to see the older man as the older man looked to see him.

He glanced around, checking that no one was looking.

My hand shot through my purse, spilling everywhere, and I yanked my phone out and tried to get a photo…

But they both vanished around the corner.

“Shit!” I yelled in my car.

I’d have given anything to know who the man was and what they were talking about.

I needed to learn as much as I could before Price got too firm a grip over the management at The Daily House.

I was sure he had bought the paper to silence us.

And I was determined to find out what he was hiding.

But I wasn’t going to get to the truth of the story sitting in my car while the characters went for a walk.

My curiosity won out over my reasoning, so I slipped out of my vehicle and crossed the street on foot.

You train yourself as an investigator to find natural ways to hide yourself. To naturally be inconspicuous.

There was a newsstand at the corner, and I made my way there. I flipped through the titles, hidden by the stream of pedestrians passing by.

I quickly spotted Price and the older man.

Price looked uncomfortable and defensive. It looked as if the older man had backed him up against a wall.

The Mystery Man held out his hand for Price to shake, but Price didn’t accept it. Instead, he spoke quickly, seeming agitated.

If I had to guess, Price didn’t want to say “yes” to whatever the Mystery Man was proposing. But he was also reluctant to refuse him.

As innocuously as I could, I brought out my phone and took a photo of them, trying to capture the Mystery Man’s face and Price’s angst.

I checked my shot. The Mystery Man’s face was hidden by Taylor’s muscular frame…

Good lord, how did he find the time to stay in such incredible shape?

His shoulders were practically stretching his shirt and jacket apart—

Jesus, Kate, focus!

I looked back up. Price and the Mystery Man were saying their goodbyes.

A hug, which ended when the Mystery Man kissed Price on the cheeks in an old-fashioned kind of way.

I snapped another photo on my phone, and this time I captured the stranger’s face... but it was grainy at this distance. Damn it!

Mystery Man signaled and a car pulled up beside him. A bodyguard opened the door for him.

As the car drove away, Taylor seemed to sag, rubbing his face as he thought over the conversation he just had.

An offer?

A request?

A demand?

There was no telling...

...at least not yet.

Taylor rounded the corner and I quickly buried my face in a newspaper so he wouldn’t spot me.

He went back into the building and vanished.

I put the newspaper away and crossed the street back toward my car.

And just before I reached my car and took out my keys, a black SUV pulled over, preventing me from being able to leave.

The driver’s door opened, and I was ready to get into a shouting match.

“If you give me a second, I’m leaving the spot,” I told whoever was about to climb out.

A handsome, stern-faced man stepped out.

“Are you Kate Dawson? As in, writer for The Daily House?” he asked.

Hesitant, I nodded. “Who are you?”

He leaned in and spoke in a lowered voice.

“I have some information you might want.”

I eyed him, doubtful. “Yeah? Like what?”

“I can tell you in the car. It’s about that man over there. Taylor Price.”

“What do you know about Taylor Price?”

“More than he wants me to know,” the man said. “I’m Ben. Hop in, I’ll tell you everything.”

He gestured for me to get in back and climbed in the driver’s seat again.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

As a reporter, sometimes you had to take a risk and follow a story, even into dangerous places.

But everything was on the line: my newspaper, my job, Nana.

Discreetly, I snapped a photo of the plate and sent it to Rick: a little insurance policy for myself in case anything went wrong.

I opened the back door of Ben’s car and looked inside. Clean and empty. “Hurry up, come on,” Ben said.

With my keys poking out between my fingers, I got in.

Ready for either a story or a fight.