Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,59

giving her a stern look. "So name your price. Even if I have to pay you out of my own bank account, I'm not letting him have you."

Cecilia's mind raced. What did one even ask for an investigative piece? Did she get to pick a number out of thin air? Wasn't there a manual for this kind of thing? More importantly, how in the hell did she get wind of the story? Let alone a copy? "Umm are you sure you have the right person?" This was all too weird. She could count on one hand the number of people who knew about the story, starting with Bob. Was this some bone Bob was throwing her direction out of a sense of overwhelming guilt? That must be it, because while Izzie and Jeanine knew about it, they hadn't read the article, and Trace had seen a snippet, but she'd binned that copy. And unless someone had broken into her house and stolen the thumb drive from her old jewelry box, then it had to have been Bob. Which meant this lady was legit. She held up a finger. "Umm... can you hold on a minute? I'll be right back." Cecilia turned and fled down the length of the counter, then down the hall to the ladies'. She slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Think, CiCi, think," she muttered, pressing her fingers into her temples. Mariah. She needed to call her sister. Yanking her phone out of her back pocket, she thumbed through her favorites, and pushed on her sister's icon.

"Are you kidding me?" Mariah mumbled in a voice still thick with sleep. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I swear, it's important."

"I'll tell you what time it is - it's three-thirty... in the morning," Mariah whined.

Cecilia winced. "I'm sorry. What city are you in again? I knew you were somewhere... over there," she motioned with her hands.

"And by over there, you mean Auckland? Because, yes... I'm over there. And couldn't this have waited another ninety minutes?"

"I swear, I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you at Christmas."

"Me too," Harrison growled in the background.

"Wait, Harry's with you?"

"Surprise," Mariah said weakly. "He had a deal in Tokyo, so he stopped over."

"Oh man. I'm so sorry. Should I call back? I can call someone else."

"No way. What's going on?"

Cecilia's heart began to race. "So there's this lady, and she's sitting at the counter-"

"You're at work?" Mariah's voice sharpened. "Okay, spill."

"So she's the editor-in-chief from the Atlantic Journal and she wants my story. She said to name my price, and that she'll pay out of pocket because she doesn't want her husband to get it."

"Hang on." The noise became garbled. She must have covered the phone. "Hang on. Harrison wants to talk to you."

"How's it going Ceece?" Harry sounded like he'd had six cups of coffee. Cecilia swore the man never slept. Which explained why he was the CEO of a bazillion dollar conglomerate. "Can you recap?"

"Sure." Cecilia re-explained. "And I have no idea what to do."

"First of all, are you convinced they won't steal your work?"

"Noo... but there are only a small number of people she could have received the manuscript from, and I've saved separate versions to the cloud as well as my thumb drive, so it's all time-stamped."

"Good for you. So, remember, the number you start with is the number you negotiate from."

"So I should ask for a cool mil?"

Harrison's smile came through the line. "You're learning. But seriously, what do you want?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. This story was never about the money. It was about bringing down assholes."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," he said dryly.

"As long as you're good to my sister, you'll never have to worry."

"Noted, and don't worry. Maybe throw in a good word for me? She still won't move in with me."

"She will," Cecilia answered with a quiet laugh. "I promise. You're just going to have to wait a little longer. But seriously, Harry... what do I do?"

"You have the upper hand. Make them squirm, and don't be afraid to entertain an offer from the husband. Or anyone else for that matter. And for fuck's sake. Don't go all altruistic and take pennies just so your story can get read. If they went to the trouble to track you down, they'll pay whatever you ask."

"You're not helping, Harry."

"Okay, let me explain differently. If you think the story is Pulitzer worthy and