Page 6 of The Billionaire's Special Relationship

But Tabby didn’t trip. She didn’t hop back out of her car and rage at those losers. She pulled out her phone, pressed the Play button, and watched the recording she had secretly recorded of that entire encounter on that front porch. She even had recorded the delivery of those groceries, which was something she learned to do when somebody else tried to claim she didn’t deliver their food too.

She was an independent contractor. The rideshare company she worked for paid her a bonus for excellent reviews and gave her time-and-a-half for working on weekends. Which made it a decent gig. But she got nothing, and potentially could get fired, for a negative review, especially if the claim was that she didn’t deliver at all. And that she was the thief who stole that girl’s groceries, and not the other way around.

Her track record was second to none. And that lying cheat of a girl thought Tabitha Morgan was going to just sit back and let her mess with her livelihood? Tabby was a lot of things. But she was nobody’s pushover. She was nobody’s fool.

She checked her phone for her next assignment: a passenger pickup at the airport. She stored that video safely away, where she would show it to her boss at the end of her shift, and then she drove away.

When she glanced back through her rearview mirror, she saw that same big white boy that triedto come onto her slap the shit out of that same banana-eating, thieving-ass white girl. But Tabby didn’t smile. She didn’t yell outwho’s laughing now, bitch!the way most young ladies in her position would have done. Because women being abused was a common practice all up and down those trailer parks in Larkin. Every time she delivered to one of those trailer parks, cops were either going to a call of domestic violence or coming from one. And not just in the trailer parks either. It was common practice everywhere in Larkin. Because mistreatment knew no color. It knew no class. It was bad no matter where it was perpetrated, and by what manner of person. And it was never a laughing matter to Tabby.

Besides, when she looked again, she saw that same abusive guy hugging on that abused, thieving girl already, no doubt telling her lies about how it would never happen again. And she was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. Which was a common practice too. That was why Tabby turned her large eyes away from that trainwreck of a couple, and focused instead on that long, winding, country road ahead of her.

She didn’t particularly love her job. It was a grind to drive all day long, rain or shine. But she loved the open roads she traveled, and the freedom her job gave her. And since it was just her, it paid all her bills. She was content.

CHAPTER FOUR

His ringing phone sounded like an echo in his massive Fifth Avenue apartment and he woke up on the fourth ring. When he realized it wasn’t his doorbell ringing, but his cell phone, he grabbed it from the nightstand and looked at the Caller ID. When he saw that it was Mel Weiss, the CEO of his corporation, and he was calling him at midnight, he knew it had to be serious.

“It’s late, Mel.”

“Where are you?”

Mel sounded as if he was running. “I’m home. And why are you running?”

“Get to the officenow. There’s a takeover in progress.”

“A takeover?” Stuart threw the covers off of his naked body and swung his feet out of the bed. “What do you mean there’s a takeover?”

“It’s happening right now. They waited until we both were out of the building to pull this shit. Get back now, Stu!”

Stuart was already standing up and hurrying to his closet. “Who’s behind it? Do we know?”

“We know.”

Stuart grabbed a brand-new shirt off of the center island in his huge closet and tore off the wrappings. When Mel didn’t say who, his concern intensified. “Well who is it?” he barked out.

“It’s Alan.”

Stuart was pulling the new, crisp white dress shirt out of the package when he heard that name. He stopped in his tracks. “Alan?Myson?”

“Your son. He just orchestrated one of the biggest heights in corporate history. Get here fast!”

Mel ended the call and Stuart hurriedly called Joshua, his house manager and chief assistant, as he put on his shirt, a pair of pants, slipped in a pair of loafers, and then grabbed his overcoat.

When he made it out of his building, his driver drove the limousine up to the exclusive building’s entrance and his bodyguard hopped off of the front passenger seat and opened the back passenger door. When the bodyguard got back inside, the driver sped away. Both employees had been alerted of the crisis by Stuart’s assistant. They knew the urgency.

But Stuart was still reeling from the news. It was shocking enough that someone had initiated a hostile takeover of a company he built up decades ago, but that shock paled in comparison to knowing who was spearheading the takeover. His own son? His flesh and blood? The one person in the world he always thought had his back but just put a knife through it? He could not believe it. As his limo tore through the streets of Manhattan, he had to see it with his own two eyes to believe it.

Alan? His own son?

No way.

That was just not possible. He loved his son, and his son didn’t necessarily despise him.

But it wasn’t until he finally focused and thought about other possibilities did he see clearly what could have happened. Especially when Alan’s mother came to mind and the outsized influence she still held over their son. Andthe fact that she was the second-leading stakeholder in his corporation thanks to their contentious divorce riled him too. And the fact that she still hated his guts with everything within her? Suddenly he realized that the impossible was darn near probable. And that he, and his beloved corporation, were in trouble.

He was fielding call after call after call. And it was confirmed to him over and over and over.

This was no longer on a scale from one to ten. This was scale horrific.