Page 2 of Takeover

“Well, I’m only gay for her. I still like me a man, and the younger the better.” She wiggles her eyebrows and licks her lips.

“Okay, Bernie. I gotta go before Dad comes looking for me.” She gives me a knowing look. Bernie knows everything that goes on in this office, mainly because if my father doesn’t tell her, I do.

“I told him to go easy on you. It’s hard losing the family business.” She ushers me down the narrow hall to the conference room.

Taylor Toys is a small family owned company, started by my father in Harlem in the nineteen-eighties. We’re down to four stores in New York and Connecticut, but before we were bought out, Dad had decided to close two, dashing my hopes of someday taking over for him. Instead, BradCo bought us, ensuring the closure of our brick and mortar stores. Ending the legacy that my dad started.

Realistically, I know we would have been extinct in a few years if we weren’t bought out. Unlike my brother and sister, I’ve always wanted to work with my father in the family business. Alan’s a junior professor at UMass Boston doing the tenure track, and Vicki’s an aspiring writer by night, and high school English teacher by day. Instead of following Dad and going into business, they decided to become educators like our stepmother.

I wanted to learn the business from Dad, but my dreams of expanding and making my mark are now gone. I straighten my spine and step into the room. I recognize the smell immediately. Tom Ford Tuscan Leather cologne, and it’s not coming from my father. I hear Dad’s voice, but he’s being blocked by an incredibly tall and broad figure. Even from the back, I recognize a bespoke suit when I see one. It’s expertly draped across his broad shoulders. He has a head full of dark hair, trimmed to perfection. His voice is low, rough, and clearly intelligent. He speaks as a man who’s used to giving orders, a man who has never heard the word no.

I’ve seen pictures of him. Of course he’s attractive, but I can see the smug arrogance oozing out of him even in photos. I’ve always resented him. A man born with a silver spoon in his mouth that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Rewarded by the universe with good looks and an empire he inherited from his grandfather. And here he is, ready to undo everything my father has worked for. My father, who built this company from the ground up working seven days a week, only to have to take care of three kids because my mother wasn’t even minutely interested in the day to day repetitiveness and boredom of parenthood. Her words, not mine.

A low deep chuckle gets my attention. I look up in time to see him tap my father on the shoulder. I clear my throat, stick out my chest, and with my head held high, I walk closer to my father and the unwanted guest.

“Dad,” I say, getting his attention. My dad smiles at me and reaches for my hand, his warmth absorbing a fraction of my anger and resentment toward this other man.

“Ethan, I don’t think you’ve ever met my daughter. This is Tara. She’s worked wonders in our marketing department, and I know she’ll be an asset when she comes to BradCo next year.”

Our marketing department is me and two other employees, along with Dad. We run everything by each other, but we’re heard. I’ll be swallowed up by the conglomerate known as BradCo. Lucky for me, I have no intentions of working there, or ever stepping foot inside their corporate offices. Fuck Ethan Bradford and his entire empire.

He offers me his hand, and when I don’t take it right away, my father elbows me in the ribs. I take his proffered hand, not at all prepared for the goosebumps that cover my skin, or the jolt of electricity that surges through my body. I look down at our hands, his paler fingers wrapped around my brown skin. And then I go and make a huge mistake. I look into his eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but ocean blue eyes wasn’t it. I pull my hand from his, absentmindedly rubbing it against my wool pants. He watches me the entire time. I search his face, trying to find a hint of the arrogance I saw in his pictures, but I don’t find it. He tilts his head a fraction, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. He offers me a smile that is almost my undoing. Perfect white teeth, captivating blue eyes, wrapped up in an expensive suit covered in cologne.

“Tara,” he says as if he’s trying out my name. “I’m Ethan Bradford.”

No nice to meet you, Tara. Just letting me know who he is. There it is. Arrogant son of a bitch.

“Yes,” I say, not bothering to offer him so much as a fake smile. “I’ve heard,” I practically sneer. Luckily, my father, who’s now talking to another person, doesn’t hear my tone. Ethan Bradford doesn’t miss it though. His brows furrow and the smile he previously offered slips. I don’t give him a chance to offer me a snarky comeback. Without another look, I walk away and take my seat at the table.

His eyes are still on me when I look up. I can see the irritation oozing out of him. I bet women fall at his feet wherever he goes. He probably has a harem in his fancy Manhattan penthouse or wherever he lives. My guess is hell.

2

I know her type. Spoiled little Daddy’s girl, upset because her life isn’t going according to plan. No manners. Someone needs to teach her a lesson and knock the smug look off her face. Wipe that smirk off her full lips. Lift her right off her short legs and spank her little ass.

Even now I know she’s seething with rage in her chair. She’s so tense, her shoulders are practically to her ears. I’d like nothing more than to walk over there, take the seat next to her, and watch her squirm in unease, but this seat gives me a much better view.

She’s across the room in her designer clothes looking daggers at me with those big brown eyes. A man older than her father enters the room, and she stops the dirty looks to smile at him. She pats the seat next to her, and he happily takes it. He whispers something in her ear and she laughs, the sound melodious to my ears. She’s visibly unguarded now and I imagine this is what she’s normally like. I think she forgot she’s supposed to hate me.

I want to hear her laugh again. And I do. He says something else, and this time, she throws her head back, laughing loudly, uncaring that she has an audience of one. But all too soon, she sobers up, and I watch in awe as the tension returns to her body. She’s so rigid she looks like she’s going to snap.

The room fills quickly, and her father stands up to speak. I tune him out as I wait for him to introduce me. My eyes find her again, and I almost smile when I see the daggers are back and directed at me.

I hold her gaze, and she doesn’t back down. The humor she had just seconds ago is now a distant memory. Her full lips are no longer smiling but in a firm line. There’s no happiness in her gaze as she looks at me. Her eyes are a storm, and I can see the brown orbs all the way from here. Neither one of us is willing to look away first. She even lays her hands on the table and arches her eyebrows as she waits. I make no moves, and as much as I want to study the rest of her body, I don’t dare look away from her eyes. I never lose, and I don’t intend to lose to her by looking away first.

Unfortunately, my phone buzzes. It’s my private phone, the one the nanny uses. Carla has been with us since Vince came home from the hospital. She doesn’t text unless it’s necessary, and that’s what causes me to break the stare and pull out my phone.

I respond to the text, slide the phone back in my pocket and look back at her. She’s still looking, but I can see by the slight upturn of her lips that she’s claiming victory. I flare my nostrils and lower my eyes, looking directly at her breasts, covered in her expensive clothes. When I look back at her, I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears. She’s not looking so smug now. I want to laugh when she angrily crosses her arms over her chest.

This time, it’s my turn to claim victory. I hold the stare long enough to dismiss her and then turn my attention back to her father, who is giving the room a brief synopsis of my bio, followed by BradCo’s history. By the time he’s done speaking, the conference room is filled, with several people standing in the back.

Little Miss Spoiled Brat is looking straight ahead, her head held high as she listens to her father. She has a small smile on her face and her big eyes have gotten even wider as she listens to his words. I know the look she’s gifting him with. It’s adulation. She worships this man.

When he finally announces me, I walk to the front of the room, the sounds of my footsteps muffled by applause. I take Mr. Taylor’s spot and begin the speech I had practiced in my head. As I speak, I look around the room, and she’s talking to the gentleman sitting next to her. Unlike her, he has the decency to keep his eyes on me as she whispers in his ear, but he’s unable to keep from laughing at whatever she’s saying. His eyes widen and catch mine, and in that instant, I know she’s talking about me. He puts his hand over his mouth, but the shaking of his body gives it away.

I speak louder, demanding more attention, but she neither stops talking nor looks my way.

“Tara Taylor,” I say, liking the sound of her name on my tongue. The room goes deathly quiet as everyone turns to look at her. She stops talking and slowly turns her head in my direction. Her brows furrow and her lips are pursed while she waits for me to speak. “Do you have something you want to share with the room?”

---