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“He’s mob, Chrissy!” He grabs my laptop and drags it closer to skimmy article. “He’s rumored to have killed dozens of men. Those same rumors hint at dozens more the cops are trying to prove. He’s known to torture men and scatter their body parts in the Hudson.” His eyes scour my article and stop on tidbits I’ve already read a million times today, then when he reaches the end, they pin me over the top of the laptop, burning with intensity. “You willing to be his next victim?”
“I’m willing to expose him.” I sit back, faux relaxed, and bring my coffee up to hide the tremor in my lips. “He’s a bad man, Davis. He deserves to rot for the things he and his family have done to this city.”
“While I encourage tenacity and brave journalism,” he closes my laptop and steeples his fingers, “I’d hate for something to happen to you before we’ve had a chance to explore…us.”
“We had our date.” I shove up from my seat and pass my coffee to Dana so I don’t spill it on my shoes. Bending over the desk in my pencil skirt and a blouse that maybe shows him a little more cleavage than I’d like, I grab my laptop and phone. “We tried exploring us, Davis. It didn’t work.”
“It didn’tnotwork.” He reaches out fast and wraps his palm around my wrist, holding steady when the rest of my body attempts to turn away.
The momentum yanks me back, and the edge of the desk bruises my hip when I swing his way.
“We had a good time, Chrissy.” He sits forward, tugging me closer until our faces are just ten inches apart. His cologne in my lungs, and his breath on my skin. “We had dinner… drinks…”
We went to bed, and I ran away before the sheets were warm.
“I don’t think mixing work and sex is smart.” Carefully, I slide my arm from his grip and hug my laptop to my chest. “It never works out well.”
“It could.” He pushes up to stand and fixes his coat, straightening the fabric and fastening the button in front. “What we had was special.”
What we had was less than pleasant.
The moment I had to fake an orgasm or risk bruising his fragile ego was the moment I knew I needed to get out of there.
“I’m focusing on my work right now.” I lift my chin and scan his six-foot frame until I meet his stare. “Blazing my own path is important to me, Davis. I might someday become the publisher here?—”
“As is your birthright. It’s yours for the taking.”
“I’d like to earn it.” I take a step back, and then another to the left to avoid crashing into my chair. “Perhaps the conclusion is inevitable, but I’d at least like to know I’m worthy.”
“And you think poking the Malone bear will get you there?”
“No guts, no glory, right?” I spin and cross the office before he has a chance to grab me again. But then I stop at the door and look back to meet his eyes. “You’re a good editor, Davis. And I’m a good writer. Let’s combine our efforts and turn theCannon Dailyinto something huge. We have New York. If we work for it, we could take the whole country.”
“And your dad?” He leans against his desk and drops his hands in his pockets. “When will he deign to rejoin us?”
“He’s getting on in age. He worked hard all his life. Let him enjoy his vacation, knowing his company is in competent hands. Dana.” I turn on four-inch heels and start back toward my own office, my shadow close behind.
I trade her my laptop for the coffee, and bring the latter up to sip. “Let’s get to work on Felix Malone’s history. I’ve already written tomorrow’s piece, but I need something else for the next day. And the day after that. Let’s turn this into a mini-series if we must.” I cross the threshold and move through my office, stepping from ornate tile to a lush Moroccan rug. “I want our readers salivating for their next peek into a family who has never been in the spotlight unless it suited them.”
“Yes, Ms. Cannon.” She sets my laptop on my desk and flops down into the visitor chair, the spot she occupied before Davis interrupted us.
Grabbing her files and a pen, she goes back to scouring archived articles and tossing the relevant ones onto my desk. “Permission to speak freely, Ms. Cannon?”
I walk to the windows overlooking Manhattan, and snigger. “You think I’m a drill sergeant, Dana?” Turning, I look across to meet her milky eyes. “I’ll shoot you if you speak without permission?”
“I don’t… I—” She claps her lips shut and shrugs. “I hope not.”
“Speak freely.” I lean back against a pane and absorb the warmth of aspring day on glass. “I’m not my father. Hell,” I add as an afterthought, “I’m not Davis. I’d like for you to speak whenever, however. Unfiltered. For the love of god, I’m done with filters.”
Still nervous, she casts a glance to the doorway, then back to me. Leaning closer, she half-whispers, “Did you really have sex with Davis?”
“Oh god.” Barking out a laugh, I turn to the city, knowing my face burns hot with embarrassment. “Yepppp. I sure did.”
“On purpose? Like… consensually?”
My chest and shoulders bounce with muted laughter.Poor thing, she’d probably be fired already if she asked these questions of anyone else.“It was on purpose,” I admit. “Though it wasn’t a proud moment for me.”
“Low self-esteem? Really? When a woman looks like you, I imagine you could… ya know… pick whoever you want.”
