Page 100 of Takeover

“She knows where to find you if she wants to hear what you have to say,” he says.

“Listen,” Cheryl says, “it’s hard coming into a family. The family already has their routines and traditions. It’s a fine balance finding your place. It’s hard on us, but I know Tara loves you and Vincent, and I think the sooner you get to her the better.”

I practically fly down the stairs, yank the door open, and almost collide with the same asshole that was here last Thanksgiving. Michael. He jerks his head back when he sees me, then a slow, smug smile spreads across his face. He looks around me, and when I turn around, Cheryl and John are standing behind me like deer in the headlights.

“Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,” he says. He tries to walk past me and into the house, but I block him. There is no way this asshole is stepping foot inside this house. “I saw the video,” he turns back to me and smirks. “I was in town, and I figured I’d come and see Tara. Maybe take her out for Korean food.”

I look down to see the same cheap bouquet of flowers he got her all those months ago.

“Thai,” I say through clenched teeth. “Her favorite type of food is Thai, not Korean.” I surprise him when I grab the cheap bouquet of flowers and fling them into the middle of the street, just in time for it to get run over by a car. “And she doesn’t need your cheap flowers. I can get her all the damn flowers in New York.” I grab him by his lapel and practically drag him down the stairs, through the gate and onto the sidewalk. “I suggest you get the hell out of here before I pound you through the pavement.”

We both stare at each other, each of us breathing hard. He pulls away from me. I step closer to him, ready to punch him in the face, but Cheryl steps between us. I pull her behind me and step to Michael again.

“Michael,” John says, “now is not the time. And Tara isn’t here.” I stare into his eyes again, ready to hit him the minute he opens his mouth. He looks me up and down one last time before he walks away.

He gets in a car and drives off, and the minute his car disappears, I run to mine and peel out of my parking space. I only make it to the intersection before I get a call from Hunter.

“Boss, I tracked Victoria Taylor down at Courtyard Marriot.”

“You’re late, Hunter. I already got that info from her stepmother.”

“Oh, really? Did she give you the room number, or were you planning on loitering in the lobby? And I got your son to eat. You’re welcome.”

I come to a stop at an intersection, blood pumping through my veins at the thought of seeing her again. It was just one night. One night without her, and my entire life has fallen apart in that small amount of time.

“Give me the damn room number.”

Instead of giving me the number, he says, “You better do some serious groveling boss. There are hundreds of men tweeting Ms. Taylor now that they believe she’s single. Most of them are single fathers. A few are richer than you are,” he says. I let out some curses. When I have to stop at a light, I open the damn app to find that Hunter is telling the truth.

“Well, fuck them. They can’t have her. She loves me.” And the fact that I know that she does is the only thing that’s keeping me going. “Now give me the fucking room number so I can go get my life back.”

He tells me the number and I file it away. “And you owe me a raise because there will be flowers in the lobby waiting for you. I got chocolates too. I’ll contact HR on Tuesday for my raise. No less than twenty percent.”

“Fuck off.” I end the call and focus on the traffic, and since it’s a holiday weekend it takes me three times as long to get to the hotel on the Upper East Side. When I pull up and hand my keys to a valet, I wonder why she didn’t stay at The Plaza or the Ritz.

I step through the front door and almost collide with Hunter.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask him while I make my way to the elevators.

“I’m good, but I’m not good enough to get flowers delivered here on such short notice. I don’t know if you’re aware, but this is a holiday weekend. Not to mention it’s peak wedding and prom season.” He stands in front of me, and for the first time, I notice he’s carrying two bouquets of hydrangeas and lilies. I take them from him, and he pulls out a package from his backpack. “Chocolates,” he says. “And the ring will be delivered to your house tomorrow. Your sister will stay there with Vincent for as long as you need. And Mr. Vincent is still one pissed off little dude.”

The mention of my son’s name causes me to come to a complete stop. “Is he okay?” I ask Hunter. If something was wrong, Elizabeth would have called me, but the anger I saw from my son is completely unlike him. I’ve tried so hard to make sure he’s happy, but I failed him in so many ways, including chasing away someone he has grown to love.

“He’s fine, but man, is he pissed. He wouldn’t talk to me or your sister. Ms. Bradford asked if she could call you for him. As soon as he heard your name, he ran to his room and slammed the door.” Those words hurt. He always wants to be around me. Even though it’s only been twenty-four hours, I desperately miss the family that we’ve become over the last few months. Tara was the piece that was missing, and whatever it takes, I will get her back. The elevator door opens, and I thank Hunter for everything he’s done.

I’m a confident man. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and have access to anything I want, but I know this is one thing I can’t control. I fucked up. I need to own that and ask for forgiveness. The ride to the fifteenth floor seems to take forever, but by the time I step off the elevator, I still have no idea what I’m going to say. My assured steps belie the butterflies in my stomach, but when I finally get to her room, I knock on the door with a confidence I do not feel.

I hear the loud talking coming from a television, some muffled words, and footsteps. The door swings open and the smile on Vickie’s face immediately drops. She blocks the door and crosses her arms.

“I’m surprised it took you this long, but if you think those flowers are going to win you any points, you’re mistaken.” Her eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer to me. “If I were you, I’d leave.”

I crane my neck, but all I see is an empty room.

“Can you please move so that I can come in?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice calm, but if she gives me any trouble, I’ll simply lift her and put her out of the way.

“Alan, why does it take you so long to put on clothes?” Tara’s voice beckons to me. My heart rate picks up, and I take a step closer to Vickie, but she’s still blocking the door. “There better be a drink in each hand in the next ten minutes, or I’m gonna get mean,” Tara yells somewhere in the room. “Vick, I made dinner reservations for us at one of those Brazilian steak houses. But we’re gonna get nice and drunk first because—” Her words are cut short, and I look over Vickie’s shoulder. Our eyes lock, and she stands in the middle of the room like a deer in headlights.

Vickie clears her throat and finally stands aside to let me in. The minute I clear the threshold, Tara holds up her hands as if to ward me off. A door opens, and Alan walks out. Vickie stands next to her sister, and Alan does the same. I look at them, and they are clearly dressed for a night out. Tara is wearing another obscenely short black dress that fits her lithe body just right, but this skirt flares out. I look at her from head to toe, and I think I hear myself moan when I see her in those red shoes. Always those red shoes that are my undoing. And where the fuck did they come from because she wasn’t wearing them when she walked out on me yesterday.

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