The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 12

It was a four-story glistening structure that would make me utterly jealous if everything inside wasn't a forgery of someone else's work. I would rather work out of a shack on my own pieces than work in a pretty place on something that wasn't real.

I reached for the door, itching to jump out, bat in hand, and put a dent in that pretty jerk-infested building.

"Wait..." His hands tightened on the wheel, eyes narrowed as he scanned the building. "Something is off."

"Yeah, Laurence is still breathing," I replied pulling on the door handle.

The doors suddenly locked. "Um... what's going on?" I asked turning to stare at Tate.

The car was stalled next to the curb in a dramatic pause. Tate scanned the sidewalk, brow furrowed. "Walk me through what you saw at Susan's house."

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because I need to know right now if you have enough proof before I actually let you walk in there."

I crossed my arms, growing suddenly angry. "LET ME?!?"

Tate's eyes turned dark. "Yes."

I yanked on the door handle then turned back to Tate. "OPEN. THE. DOOR."

He shook his head. "Not until you tell me what you saw at Susan's house."

I gritted my teeth. "I saw a business card for Laurence Royal's company on the floor."

"That could have been forged or planted. Anything else? Did she know who was at the door?"

I shook my head. "She said she didn't know."

"Don't you all know each other in this industry?"

Doubt began to creep in. Susan knew everyone. It was one of the things she was best known for. If it wasn't someone from Laurence Royal's company... then who was it? My voice rose. "Let me out, Tate."

"You can't go in there and pound him like a battering ram! You need a plan. A foolproof plan to catch him or whoever else is doing this." Tate leaned closer to me, his arm brushing my shoulder as he pointed through the window to a stalky man reading a newspaper— no pretending to read a newspaper.

The man looked up every few seconds, scanning the area. Tate's finger moved to point at a woman leaning against the building, phone in hand, but staring at everything but the screen. "See those? They are paparazzi." Tate leaned back and the car bolted away from the curb, fingers clutching the wheel tightly, his other hand shifting gears and speeding faster.

Tate spoke quickly, piecing things together. "He knew you'd be coming, so clearly he is involved. So instead of letting him bait you into looking like a lunatic after how hard you've worked to build up your company, let's win this game he is trying to rope you into." I was struck by how passionate Tate was. How determined he was to keep me from falling into a trap even after I yelled. How even when he was trying to put together a plan, he threw in a compliment that made me feel seen.

I swallowed, and looked away, afraid he would see how utterly touched I was. "So," Tate continued. "Let's grab some food, because my guess is you haven't eaten anything today, and we can go from there. Sound good?"

"I'm fine," I muttered. But my stomach seemed to have transferred to Team Tate, and utterly betrayed me in a loud, protesting growl. Stupid observant Tate. Stupid traitor stomach! Keep it together!

"I'm only listening to your stomach from now on. She is the truth-teller," Tate said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "We are getting food."

"Fine. But on the way there I'm going to call in a favor." I hit my speed dial and heard Delle's voice a beat later as I accidentally hit speakerphone. "Allie? It's daylight. What did you do?" There was loud classical music being played on the other end of the phone.