Page 15 of Forbidden Desire

“Please, just listen to me.”

He stops and turns toward me, but I can see he’s impatient and frustrated that I’m keeping him. He raises an eyebrow in silent question.

“I know you have a meeting with Mr. Vallejo right now, but if you would just hear me out.”

“Erica, I’ve heard you out several times on this matter.”

“I know, but…”

“Why don’t you go back to your desk and do what you do best. Write. Leave the business to me.”

I try not to let his words hurt me, but internally I grimace. I have been with him since the very beginning and now he’s acting like I’ve never had my hand in the business side of anything. He’s become such a different man, a different boss, ever since the paper has started losing money. All thanks to Marco. Ifrown at the thought, but I try to brush it off, along with his condescending tone.

“He’ll change everything you’ve built,” I plead.

“You think I don’t know that?” George snaps before looking around at the rest of the office who didn’t dare look up from their desks, even though they can hear every word.

“We can make it,” I say.

“I’ve seen the numbers. We can’t.”

He starts to take a defeated step forward, but I grab his arm. “Sell it to my brother,” I blurt out.

“Excuse me?” he asks in surprise.

I’m not quite sure what I’m saying myself, but I’m desperate. It’s not something I’ve even discussed with Troy, but he’s my last hope. He’s always saying he will help me. He knows how much this paper means to me, and how much of my life I’ve dedicated to it. Even when he didn’t understand it, he respected me and my decisions. He might be our way out of this mess.

“My brother. Troy Gunner,” I say.

“He doesn’tdonewspapers.”

“But he can be an investor. The behind-the-scenes guy. Just let me talk to him.”

George shakes his head, like he feels bad for me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. I can almost see the man he used to be, the one with a head full of dreams and ambition.

But then he shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Erica. But I have to go now.”

“You can’t do business with Mr. Vallejo!” My voice is almost shrill, and it makes me cringe at my desperation. But that’s what I am. Desperate.

“Maybe you should take the day off. Maybe you came back too soon after having the baby…” he says, looking me up and down. He’s looking at me like I’m crazy, like I might break at any moment.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I’m hurt. Scared. Pissed off. George leaves me there like a fish out of water, gasping for water. I watch him helplessly as he continues down the hall, feeling the careful stares of my co-workers. They don’t have as much to lose as I do. I watch as George slips into the conference room, closing the doors behind him as he shuts himself in with The Shark.

Chapter 10

Marco

I see the torture on Mr. Walsh’s face as he signs the contract before him, his lawyer and partner looking on with tight expressions on their faces. It’s all over. I finally won. I am now the owner ofThe NY Daily News.It was a hard-fought battle between two very stubborn men, me versus him, but eventually money won. It always does.

I received the call from my lawyer this morning when I arrived at my office. Elliott’s tone was hopeful when he let me know that Mr. Walsh wanted to have another meeting. I was a little apprehensive when he informed me that the meeting would take place atThe NY Daily Newsoffice, but I was intrigued to get a look at his operations up close. I had never been before. All our meetings up until this point have been at my office or at Elliott’s office.

As I walked to the conference room this morning, my eyes scanned the place. It was a bigger operation than I thought it would be for an independent paper, but it spoke to the success it has. Or once had. Knowing it might be mine, I was already making changes in my head.

Now, as Mr. Walsh scribbles his signature in black ink, those changes will come to life. I try to keep a smug expression from spreading across my face as Mr. Walsh slides the paper over to Elliott to look over. Elliott looks over the lines and dates on each page meticulously, his eyes moving quickly and carefully, as to not miss anything. I know he doesn’t want to have to sit through another one of these meetings again, not after the year we’ve had trying to convince Mr. Walsh to sell his most prized possession.

“Everything looks in order,” Elliott says after a few quiet minutes.

“It’s settled then,” I say with a nod. “I’ll have my assistant make copies and have them sent to each of you by the end of the day.”

---