Donna:
She’s probably still the same freaky girl behind closed doors, but it looks like at this point in time, she’s no longer parading herself in front of the press.
Jamie:
Which makes us sad. Our ratings are definitely better when the cameras catch her on her knees.
Donna:
Nevertheless, what we know is this. Eliza has to be doing someone. Whether it’s multiple people or not, we simply don’t know. That by itself is a big thing because normally by now, we’d be all over the story. Which means that she’s playing everything closer to the vest.
Jamie:
It could be that she’s being more cautious considering that she’s trying to demonstrate that she has the ability and temperament to be custodian of her family fortune.
Donna:
Which would make her very responsible and grown up.
Jamie:
Exactly. Something you don’t normally associate with Eliza Seymour. You know what that means?
Donna:
I do. That just means that whatever is being hidden is probably juicy, juicy, juicy. Something scandalous and taboo!
Jamie:
Which means, viewers, you can rest assured that we’re not going to stop until we figure it out and can bring it to you!
Donna:
We won’t let you down. But sadly, that’s our Operation Eliza Watch segment for today. We’re cutting to commercial break, but when we come back, stay tuned as we chat with Aidan Stone and the remarkable career transformation of this one time romance cover model and his 12 Inches!
Chapter Fifteen
Derek
It hardly seems possible that a woman as fucking perfect as Eliza has fallen into my life.
You know when things seem too good to be true? That’s what I’m talking about.
Before Eliza, I went through women quicker than you change your nail polish. She may be my stepdaughter, but now … well, let’s just say she’s the only woman on my mind, and you know what? I feel on top of the fucking world. Like I’m standing on the spire of the Empire State building.
It’s a good fucking feeling.
All of the small things that normally drive me fucking crazy and can derail a day—like people taking their time crossing the street, or when I step on a wet floor in my socks, or seeing people eat with their mouths open—none of that made me flinch this morning.
I even absentmindedly applied shaving cream to my toothbrush, and you know what? I shrugged it off. Can you fucking believe that?
This morning I walk up to my office wearing my favorite dark gray Tom Ford suit, and I’m feeling like a billion fucking dollars. Fuck, I’m practically skipping, if you can fucking believe that.
I nod at the receptionist and give her a quick smile as I head into my office and close the door. I sit in my leather chair, and lean back, breathing in the euphoria of it all, thinking of Eliza—her seductive perfume, her firm tits in my fists, my mouth resting on the pulse of her neck as it flutters beneath me, her deep kiss, her moist lips wrapped around my cock, and—
My thoughts are interrupted with a knock on the door. It’s a quick tap, and I know who it is.
“Come in!” I call out, and the door opens.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Stackford,” my secretary says. There’s a worried look in her eyes. “But I think you should check your inbox.”
My inbox? What could possibly be so fucking important that my secretary is urging me to take a look? It’s out of character.
“Thanks, Julie. I’ll go through my messages now.”
She gives me a quick nod, and exits just as quickly as she arrived.
As I wait for my laptop to power on, I pull out my cell phone and scroll through my messages. Just as I’m wondering what the big fuss is about, I see it … the message that she’s referring to. This is definitely what she was referring to. It’s addressed to me, but Julie is cc’d on the message.
Carter … that fucking bastard, I say to myself.
Instantly, I feel my pulse kick into high gear.
The subject line of the email reads: “Pump and dump?”
When I open it, I see it’s an alert from one of my hedge fund managers. The email reads:
“One minute, stock in Global Dynamics is through the roof, and now? It’s hemorrhaging, Derek. This is really bad. What’s going on?”
Sure enough, I look up the price for the stock and I see that it’s plummeting. It’s sinking as fast as a lead pipe in a swimming pool.
I know that Carter is the majority shareholder at this company. He must’ve dumped a large number of shares, but why?
And then it hits me.
Of course. He’s fucking getting back at me … for being with Eliza.
Suddenly, my phone starts ringing with investors panicking and wanting answers. It’s amazing how quickly your day can fucking change. I look at the QuoteTracker software on my computer and I see the stock spiraling out of control right before my eyes. I’m watching the numbers and it feels like a giant, granite bolder has lodged itself into the pit of my fucking stomach.