Extra Extra (Working Girl Series Book 1)

by CY Jones

  I should write her back, but I don’t know what to say without giving away my intentions, and right now, I can’t mention anything until I’m sure everything will go as planned. I will never lie to her or make false promises. It’s my goal to get her to trust me. She lost that with her ex and I don’t exactly have the greatest track record after what happened with Paige.

  Since we were kids, I thought Paige was the one. The one I couldn’t live without and would do anything for. When we got married, it was like checking off an item on my to-do list of the perfect life. I should have known then that everything we built together would eventually fall apart. I loved Paige, hell I still do, but the love I had and have for her wasn’t stronger than my addiction. Our marriage was nothing more than a pretty lie. But with Brooklyn, everything is different. For her, I would do anything to keep her. No addiction could outshine what I feel for her. Maybe it’s because we’re cut from the same cloth. She thinks she’s crazy, but to me, she’s pure perfection. Her addiction is just as strong as mine, and she’s the only one in this world who could tame my demons. She’s my perfect match, my other half in every way. I hate that I had to hurt Paige to find her, but in the end, she got her happy ending and I couldn’t be happier for her.

  Replying to Brooklyn’s email, I write her a short but sweet message. One that doesn’t tell her too much, but that urges her not to worry.

  My Heart

  I’ll never give up on you. NEVER! I wish you would tell me what’s going on. What happened when you got back? Just know I’m here if you need me. When you're ready, call me.

  Love Always,

  Yours

  “Ian Townsend is here to see you,” Chantal, my secretary says, peeking her head in my office. Closing my email, I wave for her to send him in. His timing is perfect. If everything goes well, I’ll be one step closer to making everything right.

  Brooklyn

  I’ve been avoiding The Turd for two weeks now. I know, it’s amazing I’ve gotten away with it for so long, but divine intervention stepped in giving me a much-needed break. He had to leave on an unexpected business trip to settle some crisis at the branch in Japan. He asked if I wanted to go with him and I let fuck it Nancy answer with a classic fuck no while giving him the middle finger. Yes, we’re classy like that.

  While he’s been gone, I’ve been screening my calls. He’s even gone as far as to call me from other people's phones and has sent his secretary to track me down a time or two, but I’ve become an expert at dodging and thwarting his every attempt to contact me. I’m sure there will be hell to pay once he gets back, but for now, I’m enjoying my freedom.

  While The Turd has been away, Chaz and I have been taking our Holmes and Watson show on the road. He was able to score an invitation for brunch at the Fairchild’s estate, which he happily accepted for me, but unfortunately, Rebecca wasn’t there. They fed him some story about her going off with friends on a ski trip in the French Alps before the holidays and spent the whole meal trying their best to push their eldest daughter, Cynthia Fairchild, on him. Either they’re hiding Rebecca because she’s pregnant, or they just wanted her out of the way so Cynthia could have her chance. I owe him big time. Apparently, Cynthia and her mother were a little too touchy-feely for his taste. He claims they practically tried to molest him on the couch. Poor Chaz. I swear, even rich bitches have no shame.

  I tried looking into The Gentlemen's Society, but like Chaz predicted, I couldn’t find anything on them. They are truly a secret society and unless you have an in, you won’t find anything about it. It’s impressive that I couldn’t even find any whispers, rumors, anything hinting of its existence. If Chaz wasn’t a Vanderbilt and knew about the S, I’d think it was a figment of my imagination made up by one of my personalities for shits and giggles.

  Speaking of, they miss Justin something fierce, and if I’m being honest with myself, so do I. He wrote me back two weeks ago but I still have yet to reply. Mainly because I don’t know what to say. I still can’t believe I wrote him that last email. Even though I was being honest, I shouldn’t have sent it. I freaked him out, I know I did, and now, it seems like I’m giving him the brush off, but truthfully, I’m not. I’m trying to fix my life so the next time I write him back, there will be no doubt we’ll be together. I’ve given this a lot of thought. After I handle The Turd, I’m going to move back to LA to be with Justin. I’m not giving up on my career, I'm just changing locations.

  After chasing down my own leads for a new scoop I’m working on, I go to the park in search of my new friend. I haven’t seen her since our last little chat and have been worried about her. I did some digging and found a program that helps women like her make a fresh start. I’ve already talked with the coordinator of the program and secured her a spot if she’s willing to take it. I may have done the groundwork, but Chaz did the heavy lifting with the lofty donation he made to support the program. Money talks, especially with charities. Having a Vanderbilt on board opens a lot of doors. When I told him about my friend, he insisted on helping. Well, insist is the wrong word, he bulldozed his way in. Chaz has the biggest heart. He acts nothing like the way you’d think he would when you hear the name Vanderbilt.

  I’m disappointed when I don’t find her. After spending an hour eating a sub on the park bench, I leave with a promise to return. I won't give up on her. Winters in the city are harsh. Not to mention dangerous.

  On the way back to the office, I stop at the coffee cart located a block away from the building, and that’s exactly where that weasel Matthew finds and corners me. He grabs my arm, almost causing me to spill my coffee, and I snatch it back, giving him an ugly look.

  “What the hell do you want, Matthew?” If looks could kill, he’d be lying in the middle of the street during rush hour. I haven’t forgotten that The Turd sent him to keep tabs on me, which is probably what he’s doing now. The Turd must be getting antsy with me ignoring him. Matthew is such a lap dog.

  He’s not bothered at all by my hostility toward him. Instead, he gives me a slimy smile. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hartford. Your fiancé asked me to give you this,” he says, pulling a small envelope from his pocket and giving it to me.

  Reluctantly, I take it from him. “How the hell did you find me? Are you stalking me again?”

  “Of course not. I just lucked out with us being in the same place at the same time.” He might have the face of a boy scout, but I don’t trust him one bit. Going forward I’ll need to be more careful.

  “Whatever, dude, message received. I better not catch you following me, or I’ll shank you in your balls." With a huff, I turn and leave him standing open-mouthed at the coffee cart.

  I should have thrown the message away, but I kept it clutched tightly in my fist until I got to my desk and opened it. Inside, written on expensive cream stationery with the company’s logo printed in gold lettering, is a note in The Turd’s writing.

  Dinner, tonight, at Le Bernadin.

  7:30. Do not be late or there will be consequences

  Drew

  Normally, I’d jump at the chance to dine at an upscale four-star restaurant like Le Bernadin. It’s one of those places that’s impossible to get into unless you know someone and stays booked year round. I rather not go there with The Turd, but I’m not stupid. I’ve already pushed my luck with ignoring him as it is already. I have no doubt he’ll share that video if I stand him up tonight. I doubt my invitation extends to a plus one. It would be great if I could bring Chaz along for moral support. Knowing The Turd the way I do, he’d throw a hissy fit if I brought Chaz and start a scene to further embarrass me. Then he may release the video just for spite.

  The Turd really knows how to kill a good time. I was just getting used to my freedom, but I guess that was my first mistake. I was a fool to think he’d let me get away with ignoring him for long. Well, there’s no point in sulking now. I debate calling Chaz to get his opinion, but he said he’ll be busy all day with business. He still hasn’t told me why he’s he
re in New York. I know it’s not fully because he’s here to check up on me. I suspect it has something to do with his family, which is why he doesn’t want to talk about it. Before I left to go to my brother’s wedding, it was breaking news around here that Jackson Vanderbilt, Chaz’s father, had a stroke. Maybe he’s here to visit him and mend fences. Almost losing someone would do that. I’m not going to push him. I’m sure when he wants to talk about it, he will.

  I’m melancholy throughout the rest of the work day. My boss pokes her head into my office, I think to check to see if I’m actually at work since she came with some flimsy excuse asking about an old account that I’m certain she knows has been filed already and has nothing to do with me. Records are nowhere in my job description. I swear, she loathes that my job basically has free reign, and even though she’s the boss of us ants on this floor, she’s stuck here. I don’t get her. If you want to be the queen ant, you should already be used to not leaving the colony.

  After shutting down my computer and locking everything up, I leave, having wasted enough time at work. Traffic is horrible and I take the subway home instead of calling an Uber. I only have a couple hours until my unwanted dinner date and I'd rather not have The Turd flip his lid if I’m late. “Who cares about being late? Why should we care what he thinks?” Fuck it Nancy comments.

  “I care because The Turd is a vindictive asshole and I rather not have my naked body broadcasted all over the net. Have you already forgotten why we’re playing ball with him?”

  “I rather kick him in his balls,” she grumbles, and I feel her pain. I like to do more to his balls than kick them. Like douse them in gasoline, light a match, and watch them burn. She smiles in my head, letting me know she approves of this plan.

  When I get back to the townhouse, Chaz still isn’t back yet. A nice bitch session before I have to leave would have been nice. A good warm up before the main event, but I guess I have to do without. I’ll just have to talk to him when I get back and I will be coming back home tonight. I may have agreed to go to dinner with The Turd, but I’m not fucking him. There’s going to be no more using me like his own personal fuck toy. He laid out his terms, well, I have some of my own. The first being I’m not fucking him anymore. I’m calling his bluff, but I’m not worried. I bet my favorite pair of Louboutins that he’ll give into my request. He wants to marry me too bad to ruin me over something so trivial, which I believe is the reason why he didn’t force me to move back into the condo with him. Until I get out of this farce of an engagement, I will not give him my body and betray Justin any further.

  I get dressed in a knee length burgundy dress with a sweetheart halter neck bodice that pushes the girls up nicely and pair it with a strappy pair of silver Jimmy Choo heels that gives me an extra six inches in height. My makeup is carefully applied and my curly hair is smoothed down with product. I look hot, like a supermodel. Since getting back, I haven’t cared about looking good for The Turd, but now, with my resolve to not let him touch me, I want him to see just what he’s missing out on. My own personal fuck you.

  At seven, my Uber arrives. Grabbing my silver clutch purse, I text Chaz, letting him know I’m going out for dinner, just in case he returns before I do. Once I get back, I’ll give him all the deets. I’d rather not worry him. Maybe it’s silly of me after everything he has done so far, but I don’t consider The Turd dangerous. I know he thinks he is. Call me naive; stupid even. Too me he’s just a spoiled little shit playing hardball. Besides, Justin will just freak out if he knew he was having me followed. Time to put my game face on. It’s showtime.

  14

  Dinner and Heartbreak

  I’m five minutes late by the time I get to the restaurant. There was an accident on 5th Street and we had to take a detour that took us fifteen minutes out the way to avoid getting caught up in the grid lock. When the hostess escorts me to the table, the look on The Turd’s face tells me he’s annoyed, but he keeps his displeasure about my tardiness to himself. Maybe because he’s not alone. Seated at the table is another couple. The man in question needs no introduction. I know exactly who he is. Nathaniel Bishop. Only child of Steven Bishop. Like Chaz, their family comes from old money and are richer than anyone has any right to be. Their family itself can be traced back to the Mayflower, which makes them impressive on its own. That and his good looks. Dark hair, dark eyes. I admit he’s gorgeous, but there’s something about him that puts me off. Just being a guest of The Turd makes me instantly not like him, although I can’t fight the fact that I’m curious as to why he’s here.

  Sitting beside him is his bride of just six months, Victoria Davenport now Bishop. Another old money family. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two were promised to each other as toddlers. They are the sort that participate in such archaic practices. A sure way of making sure their fortunes continue on down the line. She’s gorgeous, of course. Dark hair like mine, cut in a trendy style and a to die for, willowy, model thin figure I’d never achieve, no matter how many diets I go on. She reminds me of a perfect doll, but the inappropriate way her husband’s gaze travels up my body tells me he’s a womanizer.

  “Andrew, who is this vision?” Nathaniel says, standing along with The Turd as he pulls my seat out.

  After I’m seated, The Turd answers, pleased that Nathaniel finds me appealing. “This lovely lady is my fiancé, Brooklyn Hartford. Brooklyn, this is Nathaniel Bishop and his wife, Victoria Bishop.”

  Forcing myself to remember my manners, I give them a small smile and address Nathaniel. “It’s nice to meet you both," I tell him, holding my hand out. Nathaniel grasps my hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over my skin before kissing my hand. His dark eyes twinkle and I shiver from his heated gaze. I can’t get rid of this gut feeling that I do not want to be on this man’s radar. His wife gives me a look of indifference after one glance. Unlike her hubby, she’s not impressed.

  “Hartford, I can’t say I heard of your family. Are you from here?”

  “No, my family is from California. I came here for college and decided to stay.”

  “Ahh, well, I’m sure your fiancé had a hand in that. Although, I can’t be mad at him for keeping you here. I would if I were him.” Of course, he’d think I stayed here for a man. I’m no little lady that needs a man to take care of her, but instead of correcting him I smile and play my part. “So when is the big day?”

  “We’ve had quite a lengthy engagement thanks to our busy work schedules, but we finally set a date for Christmas,” The Turd answers for me. If I were to answer, I would say never.

  “You work?” Victoria asks, looking directly at me while scrunching her face up like she tasted something bad.

  “Yes, I work at the same company as Drew as an investigative journalist.” I want to add not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth and actually has to make a living but I refrain. Insulting Nathaniel Bishop’s wife may not turn out well for me.

  “Oh, that sounds like fun. Are you on TV a lot?”

  “No,” I answer, grinding my teeth. “She’s annoying. Can I kick her ass? Please,” fuck it Nancy begs. “No, Nancy. I rather not go to jail tonight,” I reply. “How about we stab her with our heels? We can say we got a bad case of tourettes and it was an accident.” My leg twitches like she’s going to do just that and I grit my teeth to hold her back. “Stand down, you psycho,” I hiss in my head.

  “What was that?” I say, after realizing everyone is staring at me. Nathaniel must have asked me a question.

  “I asked how do you like working for Andrew? I don’t deal much with the media. I’m mostly shooing them away,” he chuckles.

  “I don’t really work with Drew. He’s farther up the food chain than me,” I answer politely. I don’t think telling him he’s a thieving cheating bastard will help.

  “I did hear you’re taking over for your father. I never thought I’d see the day he’d give up his throne.”

  “The old man can’t live forever. It’s about time he stepped down and enjoy
ed a life of retirement. With younger eyes, I plan on taking the company in a new direction, bringing it into the new era. My father is old school, used to dealing with paper and press. He hasn’t embraced technology like I have. I have many innovative ideas…”

  I tune out as The Turd talks business. I don’t know what this dinner is about, but it’s clear that Victoria and I are mainly here for decoration. Following her lead, I order a glass of an expensive chardonnay, taking generous sips as the men drone on and on. When the waiter, a cute college boy, takes our order, I excuse myself to use the ladies’ room. The Turd stands and I wave him off when he tries to follow me. What the hell? I’m not five. I’m perfectly capable of going to the bathroom by myself.

  I may be slightly tipsy. I haven’t eaten since this afternoon, and I may have consumed a lot of wine in a short period of time, which is not good on an empty stomach. It could be worse. I could be on my knees hurling my guts out in the fancy toilet. After washing my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror before walking back. I just need to get through this dinner then I can go back home and chill. Tomorrow is the weekend. I’m looking forward to lounging in my yoga pants, putting my feet up, and watching cheesy movies with Chaz.