Chapter 10
Marco
I see the torture on Mr. Walsh’s face as he signs the contract before him, his lawyer and partner looking on with tight expressions on their faces.
It’s all over. I finally won. I am now the owner of The NY Daily News.
It was a hard-fought battle between two very stubborn men, me versus him, but eventually money won. It always does.
I received the call from my lawyer this morning when I arrived at my office.
Elliott’s tone was hopeful when he let me know that Mr. Walsh wanted to have another meeting.
I was a little apprehensive when he informed me that the meeting would take place at The NY Daily News office, but I was intrigued to get a look at his operations up close.
I had never been before. All our meetings up until this point have been at my office or at Elliott’s office.
As I walked to the conference room this morning, my eyes scanned the place. It was a bigger operation than I thought it would be for an independent paper, but it spoke to the success it has. Or once had. Knowing it might be mine, I was already making changes in my head.
Now, as Mr. Walsh scribbles his signature in black ink, those changes will come to life.
I try to keep a smug expression from spreading across my face as Mr. Walsh slides the paper over to Elliott to look over.
Elliott looks over the lines and dates on each page meticulously, his eyes moving quickly and carefully, as to not miss anything.
I know he doesn’t want to have to sit through another one of these meetings again, not after the year we’ve had trying to convince Mr. Walsh to sell his most prized possession.
“Everything looks in order,” Elliott says after a few quiet minutes.
“It’s settled then,” I say with a nod. “I’ll have my assistant make copies and have them sent to each of you by the end of the day.”
Mr. Walsh’s face is strained, and I don’t blame him for feeling like he does.
It’s not easy to give up something you’ve worked so hard on.
I see it every time I make a deal like this when I buy out companies.
I used to feel remorse, but as time went on and my empire grew, it grew harder to feel emotions.
I’ve trained myself not to mix business and emotion.
That’s why I’m one of the most successful billionaires on the East Coast.
I stand and hold my hand out to Mr. Walsh. He stares at my outstretched hand for a moment, and I wonder if he will refuse. But he gives in, standing from his seat and giving my hand a firm shake.
“You’re nothing if not persistent, Mr. Vallejo,” he says, and I swear a smile tugs at his lip.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I chuckle, releasing his hand.
Our lawyers stand from the table too, none of us wanting to be in each other’s presence any longer than needed.
We’ve spent enough time together. I straighten the front of my suit as Elliott stacks the papers before handing them to me.
I tuck them carefully in my briefcase and then suck in a quiet breath.
I know I’m about to walk out into a room of people who probably hate me, and have been keeping a watchful eye on me ever since I walked into the building this morning.
It’s no surprise I’ve been trying to take over the paper.
I know I’m not their first choice, but it’s business. They have to understand.
I don’t want to be the one to deliver the news. Mr. Walsh can do that, however he sees fit. I prefer to be gone before he does. I’m sure they’ll see the blood in the water as The Shark leaves the building. They don’t call me that for nothing. Today is proof of the reputation I have acquired.
Before I follow Elliott out of the room, I turn and look at Mr. Walsh who has sat back down. He seems older than when I had walked in this morning.
“What will you do now?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
He waits a moment, looking thoughtful. “Probably retire, thanks to you. Maybe move closer to my grandkids,” he says, the tiniest sparkle in his eye of defeat.
“Good for you,” I say. “Family is important.”
He lets out a laugh through his nose as if I just delivered a punchline.
“Good day, gentlemen,” I say, slipping out the door and closing it behind me.
Elliott and I walk down the hallway to the elevator. I feel the eyes of the room on us, but I try not to give anything away. I walk expressionless into the elevator and it’s not until the doors close that I pat Elliott on the back.
“We finally did it,” I say through my sigh of relief.
“I told you it would happen.” He grins.
“I guess it’s hard to turn down a few million.” I shrug.
“How does it feel to be the new owner of The NY Daily News?”
“Fucking phenomenal.”
“Should we celebrate?” asks Elliott mischievously, checking his watch. It can’t be past noon. The offer to throw back a couple glasses of bourbon for lunch is appealing, so is the idea of visiting the coffee shop and convincing the redhead barista to take a long break.
“Soon,” I say, knowing both of those ideas will have to wait.
“Always on the grind,” says Elliott knowingly.
“Always.”
There is a lot of work to do. Acquiring a company is no easy feat. Figuring out what to do with it is an even harder one, though Mr. Walsh did have me jumping through hoops.
I head back to my office after saying goodbye to Elliott, and settle in at my desk with the freshly signed contracts. I set them in front of me as if they’re a trophy, and begin making a checklist of all the things I need to do now that the paper is mine.
I need to begin the process of moving the paper in a more virtual direction.
Websites are easier and cheaper to run than publishing physical papers.
It’s why my journalistic pursuits have been so successful.
I cut the costs, but keep bringing news to the people in a way that’s with the times.
Everything is on screens now. Computers.
Phones. iPads. I hardly ever see anyone holding a paper in hand.
Yet, I understand the appeal of it to those who want to hold on to that nostalgia.
While I won’t get rid of newspapers completely, cutting back on printing is necessary to turn a worthwhile profit.
I also need to move the entire operation to this building, where my other journalistic endeavors are housed.
It’s easier to have everything in one place for me to oversee things.
Each paper has its own floor, keeping them separate, but close enough for me to run things all in one place.
It’s a tricky thing running multiple rival newspapers, but I’ve found success in playing them against one another by finding their niche of loyal readers for each one.
I also need to begin layoffs. If I’m to make a profit from a failing newspaper, then downsizing is necessary.
On my way back to my office, I called my assistant and had her contact human resources to obtain their employee documents.
I need to see which ones are the best to keep on, and which ones are on the chopping block.
I don’t plan on being as harsh this time by completely obliterating the company’s infrastructure.
Ever since I met that woman, Erica, at last year’s party, I can’t fight the little bit of guilt that’s been eating away at me.
The way she spoke about the paper and the family-like environment of the office, I can’t find it in me to fire most everyone like I usually do. Still, decisions must be made.
I lean back in my chair as her face enters my mind, fresh as ever.
It’s as if I met her yesterday, even though it’s been far longer than that.
My memory is persistent in keeping her alive by popping in images of her green eyes every so often.
I can’t seem to shake her, even though we only had that one night together. A night I sometimes dream about.
It was the best sex I ever had. Hands down.
She surprised me by the way she took control.
It was so different from the woman who didn’t know how beautiful she was.
Maybe it was the drinks or maybe it was her desires getting the best of her.
Whatever it was, I was all for it. I’m used to being the one taking the lead, but she commanded me in the way she moved her body and knew when to give, and when to take.
She kept me on my toes, and I took pleasure in making her own toes curl under in pleasure.
I can still hear her raspy moans echo through my head.
Yes, the sex is something I’ve thought about often, but the intellectual foreplay that had led up to it had intrigued me too.
Hearing her talk about her passions and her career turned me on almost more than that champagne dress she wore so effortlessly.
Of course, her mouth and what she did with it took the cake, but there was something besides the sex that stuck with me.
She was real. Hard-working. Blissfully unaware of who I was.
It’s hard not to wonder what would have happened the next morning if I had stuck around.
Probably more sex. A lot more. I don’t think we would have left my bed.
I almost didn’t leave that morning when I woke up next to her, her naked body curled up next to me under the sheets and her dark hair pouring over the pillow.
She was a goddamn vision as she breathed steadily, the outline of her breasts rising and falling against the white thin fabric.
I had been so close to waking her up and showing her what I thought of her, but then my phone rung and I had no choice but to leave her there.
“Mr. Vallejo,” a voice cuts through my thoughts.
I look up and see my assistant standing in the doorway, looking wary as if she’s interrupted me.
“Yes, Jessica?”
“I received the files for the employees at The NY Daily News. HR just had them couriered over.”
“Wow. That was quick,” I say in surprise. Then I remind myself that they probably want to keep their job, hence the promptness. I’ll make a note of that.
“Should I bring the boxes in?”
“Yes, please.”
She nods and exits the room. As I wait, I jot down another to-do to my list. Find out if a woman named Erica works at The NY Daily News.
I’m surprised I haven’t thought about it until now.
It would have been so easy to find her, to try and start something up again. I wonder if she’s even still there.
Maybe she’s the reason why I feel that nagging bit of guilt in me now that I’ve taken over something she loved so much.
She could have very well been in the office today, had I thought to look.
I don’t see why she wouldn’t be. When we talked, there had been no inkling of her wanting to leave. But a lot can change in a year.
I plan on spending the rest of the afternoon going over the list of employees and their files, determining which ones to keep. While I plot out how to restructure the company, I will also see if Erica still works there. Taking over the paper just became a little sweeter at the thought.