Page 9 of Takeover

“Can you show it to me?” Vincent asks, awed. That catches her off guard, because she looks at me again, stunned by the question.

“Um,” she says, looking at me and waiting for me to shoot down Vince’s request, but I don’t. “Yeah. Another time, though. I’m sure you and your dad have plans today.”

Just as I’m about to say that we don’t, I hear footsteps behind me, and Tara’s father walks in.

“Dad!” Tara says as she walks over to hug him. He bends down to Vincent’s level and offers him his hand. Once the handshake is over, Vince runs over and hides behind me as he pokes his head out from behind my legs.

“How’s everything here?” John asks, looking over at his daughter. She smiles at him and wraps her arm around his.

“Great. Vincent has been an incredible guest, and he’s quite the giver. None of this stuff is for him.” I can feel Vincent perking up at the praise. He finally leaves my side and runs to Tara to take her hand.

“I’m so glad to hear it. Vincent, would you like a private tour? Let me show you the security cameras.” Vincent forgets his shyness and quickly takes the older man’s hand. “By the way, what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving? Will your sister make it?”

“No, but Vincent and I will be spending Christmas with her in London. Elizabeth will be here for good sometime in the spring, so I can’t wait until she comes to work. But it’s just me and Vince for Thanksgiving this year.”

“Well, why don’t you two join us?” The smile that was on Tara’s face suddenly drops at her father’s invitation. I don’t miss her surprised gasp, and for the first time since we got here, she voluntarily looks at me and mouths ‘no’ while she subtly shakes her head. I stare at her, my expression stoic. She puts a hand on the side of her face, blocking her dad’s view of her mouth with the palm of her hand, and mouths the word ‘no’ again.

“We’d love to. What do you say, Son?” I ask.

He looks at Tara, his smile beaming. She finally looks away from me, looks down at my son, and gives him a fist bump. Vince is so happy, he hugs her.

“Can we get breakfast soon, Daddy?” he asks.

“Sure. I’m pretty hungry myself. How about you, Tara?” I look at her again, knowing full well I’m going to get my way. “Didn’t you tell me about Home Sweet Harlem? John, your daughter very graciously agreed to join us for breakfast. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and what better way to get to know each other than over breakfast?”

Her father smiles, giving us his approval, while Tara goes from giving me the death glare to the deer in the headlight look.

“Good. Come on, Vince. Let me give you the tour so you can go eat.” Vince takes Mr. Taylor’s hand, and they head in the opposite direction.

As soon as they’re out of eyesight, she turns to me, eyes narrowed. A lesser man would take a step back, but I’m not a lesser man.

“First, I’m not going to breakfast with you. I had to show you around for an hour, and I did that. My obligation is fulfilled. Second, how can you do this to me? How are you going to show up on my day?” In a fit of rage, she spins around and stomps her feet, her hands clenched at her side.

“Your day?” I ask, taking a step closer to her. “I didn’t realize Thanksgiving belongs to you. And here I thought it was America’s day. Are you having a temper tantrum in the middle of a toy store? Apt place for it, don’t you think?”

She turns her back to me, and I watch, mesmerized as she takes several deep breaths. I hold back my laughter as she counts to ten twice. She takes one final deep breath and turns to face me.

“You know what? I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of freaking out.” Another deep breath, followed by, “My father is a nice guy. The best. And he thinks everyone is as nice as he is.” I hold back the eye roll. Her father is a great guy, but a shrewd businessman who rarely misses a thing. He’s not the blind saint his daughter thinks he is. “And I won’t be the one to tell him who you really are, but if you know what’s good for you,” she says, pointing her index finger at my face, “you’ll call my dad in a few days, make an excuse, and not darken our doorstep.”

“If I know what’s good for me? Is that a threat? What are you going to do if I show up? Spank me?”

“It’s a promise,” she hisses. “You’re only doing this to get back at me.”

“Is everything always about you? Your father invited me and my son to his house on Thanksgiving, but somehow, I’m ruiningyourday? What about Vincent? For whatever reason, he likes you. Thank goodness he’s only four. I have plenty of time to school him on his taste in women.”

Her eyes widen, and her head rolls back as if slapped. She does something weird with her mouth and puckers it as if she just tasted something sour. She looks at me, opens her mouth, then quickly closes it.

“You know what? I’m not going to let you ruin my life any more than you already have. You are the absolute worst.” She waves her hand and starts to walk to the door. “Have a good day and a good life, Mr. Bradford.”

I catch up with her in two strides and grab her wrist. She pulls out of my grasp and takes a step back.

“You can’t. Vincent will be disappointed.” That stops her in her tracks, but before she can tell me to go to hell, Vincent and her father return. He runs to me, and I pick him up and put him on my shoulders.

Her father takes her aside and says something to her. She smiles wide and then he takes her in a hug. As they hug, he leans down and whispers something in her ear. Whatever it is puts an even bigger smile on her face and she hugs him a little tighter. He pulls away and kisses her forehead before he says goodbye to us and walks away.

7

I can’t even be bothered to scowl at the manipulative Ethan. I thought he’d be out of my life after today, but that’s not the case. I will need to adjust my expectations, and besides, I really like the kid.

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