by Kade Charest
“Taylor, we can’t—” Todd started.
“Oh, you can,” she chastised him, “and you will.” Then she turned and peered out a window.
“Taylor,” Charlie interjected, “we can handle running the corporation, we just need—”
Taylor’s head whipped back. “Excuse me?” Her voice was quiet and frosty. “Are you telling me you want me to be just a pretty face, a symbol, and not actually be involved in running the corporation that my family created?”
No one said anything.
“Because that sounds ridiculous,” Taylor clarified softly.
It totally came through as a threat, which Derrick saw Todd, Charlie, and even his dad take in as they swallowed uncomfortably.
“I will be running this ‘show’ from now on. So you two,” she said, pointing at Todd and Charlie, “get me the needs list. By tomorrow.”
Todd gave a curt nod; Charlie was just frozen in place.
“Now, where is this house-in-the-air going?”
“L.A. We are taking you home, Taylor, to Preston Manor,” Charlie said.
Taylor stiffened. “The hell you are,” she said in a harsh whisper, her breathing picking up pace. “I will not step foot in that house,” she said, shaking her head quickly.
“Taylor, it’s the best place for—”
“I. Will. Not. Go. There!” she shouted.
“She can come with me,” Derrick interjected, “she can come home with me.”
Derrick felt every eye turn to stare at him. It was really quiet for a few seconds, and then every other man spoke at once.
“Derrick, you can’t—”
“Absolutely not—”
“That is ridiculous—”
Derrick watched Taylor smirk at their outbursts.
“Sounds lovely,” she said. She turned to Charlie. “I’ll go to Derrick’s.” And she turned on her heel and headed to the back of the plane, slamming the door to the bedroom as she exited.
Every pair of eyes stared at the door and then slowly turned to just stare at each other. Derrick broke off to hit the panel bar Taylor had uncovered.
“So, who else wants one?” he asked, pouring his glass. Suddenly there were three other glasses waiting to be filled, with white knuckles gripping them.
Taylor collapsed against the back of the door.
Holy shit. For someone who didn’t know how to run a company she had just totally taken control over that entire situation.
She had impressed even herself at how sure she had sounded. Taylor replayed the scene in her head and she realized that she was sure. When she walked out of that bathroom she had known exactly how to handle that situation and what she had wanted out of it.
And now she was going to Derrick’s house.
That part she was not as sure about, but she was sure she wasn’t going home. The mansion that should have always been her safe place had been turned into an asylum by that fuck up, Cedric, and she wasn’t going there again. Ever.
Taylor collapsed on the bed, suddenly aware of how worn out her body was, and flipped on the TV. She wanted distraction, and it was late, and who knew where the hell they were. An infomercial came on instantly. A very excited guy was talking about a blender. “But wait, there’s more …”
Why an infomercial transported her through her thoughts, she didn’t know. Maybe it was how focused she became on the blender, but she realized she had just agreed to go on vacation, with Derrick Fletcher, alone.
“But wait, there’s more ...”
She was going with him after getting off this plane, to his home. And from there they would be heading out on a rendezvous. She hated herself now for the snap decision. The idea had only appealed to her because the other men had resisted it. And the added benefit was that time away from Todd and Charlie gave her more time to try and find her way out of this marriage-clause bullshit, because she was not going to marry anyone, especially Derrick.
Taylor ignored the acid in her throat once more as she thought about what lay ahead. Instead, she focused her attention on the total gym infomercial, but it was totally not as cool as that freaking blender had been. She wished that was still on. She really liked it—maybe she would order a dozen. She was just so tired …
Taylor was overtaken by sleep before she knew it. She had felt the first pull of sleep soon after inhaling the brandy and knew that was helping her ease out. Derrick’s smile flashed in her mind again, but she was too tired to will it away. She was going to have to find a loophole out of this big fucking deal, and soon.
Chapter Three
Taylor woke up to the feel of her hand running over the softest sheets she had touched in a long time. The thread count had to be in the millions. These were not the Target special she had at home. She kicked her legs around and felt the sheets against her bare legs too.
It had been a dream; it had all been a crazy dream.
Taylor smiled and opened her eyes, expecting to see her bedroom ceiling, the one that had a majestic mural of a white puffy clouded sky amassed all over it. It had been painted before she was born, and she loved waking up to it. This ceiling, however, was gray. Taylor looked to her right, no white bookshelves and stained-glass window. Instead there were floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire expanse of the wall overlooking a city skyline, no shades.
This isn’t home. Where the hell—
Turning left, Taylor found Derrick, iPad on his lap and coffee mug in hand, watching her.
“Damn,” Taylor croaked. The brandy must have burned everything on the way down. This was not what she had been hoping to see when she opened her eyes. She was certain that women all over the globe would love to turn their head and see Derrick Fletcher, but Taylor was not in the fan club.
Derrick was so utterly handsome, it was no wonder he frequently graced magazine covers and was constant fodder for public attention. His good looks had tabloids scrambling for his photo, like those of celebs taken during a sneeze or a sneer that always accompanied some horrible headline. But they were never able to get anything awful; even when he was making the most horrible face Derrick was still striking.
He had a beautiful skin tone—not dark enough to be called olive, not light enough to be pale, something in the middle. His beautiful face was square-shaped and complemented by a chiseled jawline. His eyes were the color of milk chocolate, and hearts seemed to melt beneath their gaze just as easily as a Hershey’s bar melted in the sun. His lips were full and usually pulled into a smile. And that smile could … wow. Some people crooked their finger and women came running—Derrick just smiled. His brown hair was short but messy still. It would never be anything but messy, though, the way he always raked his hand through it for every emotion. Mad, hand to the hair. Happy, hand to the hair. Unsure, hand to the hair. He always … well, he used to, Taylor thought, he probably didn’t—
Derrick raked his hand through his hair at that very moment, and Taylor pinched her thigh to try not to smile at him.
And then he smiled at her, and she remembered the pièce de résistance. The world was utterly unfair because in addition to all those perfect qualities, Derrick had dimples.
“Hey, Taylor,” he said shyly, which was strange because Derrick Fletcher did not rock shy, ever.
Taylor turned away, groaning in disgust, and looked up to the ceiling of what must be Derrick’s bedroom. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?’ she asked quietly, then turned to him again. “It really happened didn’t it?”
His smile slid slowly off his face. He shook his head, “No, Tay. It, uh, it wasn’t a dream. It all happened.”
“Don’t call me Tay.”
Derrick’s eyes widened slightly, but he just shrugged, “Okay.”
Taylor sat up and drew her knees to her chest, hugging them through the comforter, and rested her chin on top. Her eyes scanned the room again. “Is this your place?”
“Yeah,” Derrick said, setting his coffee and iPad aside.
“Who saw us come in?”
“No one. I have a private elevator and a private garage. The elevator goes from the garage to my place, no other stops in between, and there are no cameras in the garage or the elevator.”
“When did you become camera shy?” Taylor asked icily.
Derrick took a deep breath, “Look, Taylor, I’m sorry about—”
Taylor held up her hands, instantly stopping whatever Derrick was going to say. Whether he was sorry about last night, something that happened in the sandbox as kids, or anything in between, she was not interested in going there now. “What’s the plan? Are we still leaving tonight?”
Derrick nodded, “Yeah, I was just planning out a route here,” he said, pointing at the iPad, “I already went to the marina and made the manager aware that I will be coming an hour after closing.”
“Is that an iPad?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah.” Derrick responded slowly, sounding confused, like he was waiting for Taylor to jump on him about that too.
“I saw people in the coffee shop with those—I’ve never used one.”
“Really?” Derrick asked. It was as if Taylor had said the sky was purple.
“Can I have some coffee?” Taylor asks.
“You don’t like coffee,” Derrick answered, though it was more like a confused question than a statement.
Oh, now he is going to pretend to know me. Puh-lease. “Yeah, Derrick, I do. And I have total jet lag, as well as emotional trauma, so I’m having a hard time waking up and processing all this shit. So, please, can I have some coffee?”
“Sorry,” Derrick said, making his way to a Keurig station on a small table in the room, “I thought you didn’t, I mean you used to—”
“I’ve changed, Derrick,” she said. Then before she could put her filter on, she added, “You know, preferences change over nine years.”
Taylor watched Derrick stiffen at her comeback. She had said it on purpose, to see if she could get a reaction. And once she did it wasn’t as satisfying as she had thought it would be. She was behaving badly. She had, after all, agreed to come here with him. And even though it was in order to piss off Charlie, Todd, and Simon, he had helped her. Then they would go to—
Oh shit, she was going to be totally alone with him for who knew how long. Suddenly all the deals she had made from the night before, and the reality of what she had agreed to flooded her: Cedric’s death. The debt. Preston Corp. CEO. Financial assistance from Fletcher Enterprises.
And marrying Derrick.
“Oh man,” Taylor moaned, pressing her face into the top of her knees. What the hell had she done?
The touch of a hand on her arm made her jump, and then she looked up and saw Derrick hopping back, trying not to spill the mug of coffee he had made her.
“You didn’t hear me,” he said. “I asked how you took it?”
She reached for the mug. “Black will be fine for now. I need to clear up.”
She sipped the sweet dark liquid, and Derrick just stood there. It was weird, and it was quiet, and Taylor didn’t know what to do, so she filled the silence.
“How did I get here?”
“I brought you,” Derrick replied. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat, grabbing his mug and taking a sip.
“I don’t remember,” Taylor furrowed her brow. The last thing she could recall was blenders and then the total gym.
“You were out cold. I tried to wake you, but you were out, so I carried you to—”
Taylor choked on her coffee, “You carried me?” She croaked. She had never been carried in her adult life.
“Yeah,” Derrick said and then took a lot of interest in his mug. He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway,” he continued, “I carried you to my car, and then I brought you home, uh, I mean here. I carried you here.”
He was blushing. What the heck? Taylor thought, he was stuttering and blushing, Derrick didn’t—
She scolded herself, You don’t want him to pretend to know you, why are you pretending to know him?
Taylor just nodded and shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. As she freed her feet from the comforter, she noticed her shins were bare, and then she became very aware that she had no pants on.
Taylor’s eyes widened and she looked at Derrick, “Did you undress me?”
Derrick smirked and rolled his eyes, “I helped you out of your jeans and pulled your sweater off, Taylor, I would hardly call that undressing you. It’s not like you’re naked.”
Taylor could feel her cheeks redden now, and she didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or anger. “Please kindly refrain from doing that from this point forward,” she said.
Derrick bit his lips, trying to hold back the smile. He pulled his mug to his lips, nodding at her order.
He was so smug, Taylor thought as she simmered over the thought of him undressing her. She scanned the room again, trying to change her mind and caught the clock telling her it was 1:30 p.m.
“So we leave at what time?” she asked, eyes still on the clock.
Derrick cleared his throat and coughed a little. Taylor was positive it was to cover a laugh, but she ignored it. “We’ll leave here at 10:30 tonight, get to the marina around 11, and hopefully set sail by 11:10,” Derrick replied systematically. He was like business Derrick, a whole new model, conveying everything responsible and authoritative.
“Okay, Business Ken doll. Then what? Where are we going and for how long?”
“I hate when you call me Ken doll,” he scowled at her, but his tone didn’t match his words. He actually sounded happy at the reference to the childhood nickname she had just used. “We are going to sail to San Francisco, couple days, hang out a few.”
Taylor thought it over, sipping, “I don’t have clothes, how do—”
“Taken care of,” Derrick cut her off.
She raised a brow, “Oh yeah, and how’s that?”
“I had Marty pick up—”
“You told Marty?” Taylor exploded. Marty was Derrick’s baby sister. Besides Derrick, Marty Fletcher had been the person who knew Taylor best growing up. But Marty was a spitfire. She had a reputation for loving attention, and she had a hard time keeping her mouth shut. If she knew about the crazy agreement, no one could keep her from telling the world.
“No, I didn’t tell Marty,” Derrick said, a small smile curving his lips. “That would have been the equivalent of facing a firing squad,” Derrick said, shaking his head at the thought. “No, I told her I wanted to surprise someone special with a trip and needed clothes for her.”
Someone special. Well, fancy that, Taylor thought. The reference to her, in order to keep up the lie of course, had Taylor’s heart beating fast. This was really happening, this crazy plan was really going forward.
“And she bought that?”
“Yeah, she did,” Derrick replied. “Not that she didn’t pester me annoyingly forever to try and find out who it was, but she worked quickly when I told her I needed it very soon. She has been hounding me about getting out and dating for a while.”
Taylor smiled, set her mug on the bedside table, and leaned back on the bed, her arms bracing her, “So Marty’s still the perpetual romantic?”
Derrick rolled his eyes, “Of course. And her brother who hasn’t dated—well, ever—or been ‘linked’ to anyone lately is in desperate need of romance, she thinks. So even the hint of my being romantically involved with someone has her on cloud nine.”
Taylor dropped her gaze and picked imaginary lint from the duvet covering her lap. “This isn’t romance, Derrick, it’s business,” Taylor said quietly, and she glanced up after him.
Derrick looked away at Taylor’s words and sipped his coffee.
I just need it to be clear, Taylor told herself. It isn’t being bitchy.
But now there was an awkward silence. “Okay, so clothes, boat, trip, who is the tip-off?” Taylor asked, trying to change the subject. Because she wanted to know, she wanted to feel like she has some say. And if no one saw them sneaking around, this whole t
hing would be for naught.
Derrick reached for a coaster and set down his mug.
Taylor gawked at him. A coaster? WTF, he cares about cup rings? Who the hell is this guy?
But Derrick was too absorbed in the plan to notice her reaction. He started counting off on his fingers, “The marina is crawling with celebrity yachts and boats, so a boat going out after hours is going to call attention. Once it is leaked I was seen going out, Marty will be asked while we are away, and though I told her not to—well, probably because I told her not to—she will say I am with someone, or at least allude to it, and then people will try to spy on us during the day, while we are anchored. And I also plan to ask for discretion from the manager when we leave, and that will tip him off that I am up to something. Once someone greases his palm, he will spill that I left, and he may even recognize you.”
Taylor nodded. .This is good, she thought, all the secrets will cause more attention, create more of a stir.
“So I think they should release Cedric’s death while we are out,” Taylor said, dropping the bomb from out of nowhere. It had been only a fleeting thought in her mind for a while, and she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. But she realized, as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted Derrick’s opinion.
“You can’t, Taylor,” Derrick said.
“Why not?” she said defensively, forgetting all about wanting his thoughts on it. She was really getting tired of people trying to tell her how this was all going to play out. God damn it, she was in control.
Derrick sighed and spoke calmly, “If he is gone, then you have to take over. But you can’t take over and make any legal anythings without being married. It’s in the—”
“Decree,” Taylor finished, “yes, I know.” His calm reminder and the fact that he was right pissed Taylor off. She wanted him to be on her side; it was a test of sorts to see if he would just go along with her, his friend. But clearly things really had changed. The old Derrick would have gone along with her plan. This Derrick was developing plans of his own.
