“I won’t regret it,” he mentioned. “But I’ll be mad at myself if you do something you regret.”
With a sigh, she eased off and slipped onto the seat beside him, and before the thought even entered her head, her lips were wrapping around his erection.
“Oh my God, you’re dangerous,” he groaned, arching his head back and coming in her mouth.
She squealed in surprise, then sucked, swallowing him and feeling thrilled to be in control of a sexy and powerful man’s pleasure.
As he finished, the limousine rolled to a stop, and Taylor stroked her hair, whispering, “Come here.”
Rose slid up and leaned into him for a kiss. After, he adjusted his slacks, buttoning them up, as she straightened her dress. Their driver opened the door, and she climbed out to find a magnificent high-rise condominium that seemed to be made entirely of glass and steel.
“You have a place at the Escala?” she asked, as he stepped up behind her.
“Yeah, I have a place. I also own the building.”
The Escala was one of Seattle’s ritziest luxury buildings with a full gym, swimming pool and tennis court, boutique shops in the lobby and a five-star restaurant on the uppermost floor with an adjacent rooftop lounge. Growing up in Seattle, Rose had driven past the Escala countless times, imagining what it might be like inside, but had never set foot through its arching glass entrance.
Taylor offered his arm, guiding her along the red carpet that stretched across the sidewalk. Two doormen immediately opened the doors for them to pass through, and soon Rose’s heels were clicking over pink marble.
“So you won’t be in town long, but you own a building here and have an apartment?” she asked, challenging his prior assertion that whatever this was, it couldn’t possibly last long, as they stepped into one of the elevators.
Taylor pressed the button for the fiftieth floor then angled his dark eyes down at her and a smile raised one corner of his mouth.
“I own a lot of buildings in a lot of cities,” he explained. “Starlight is just one project I’m managing, but there are others that will require my attention.”
“What others?” she asked, wondering if she would have to travel the country, hot on his heels, to shut down other hazardous developments—a prospect that both thrilled and daunted her.
The elevator door slid open, and as they walked down the hallway, he mentioned, “Mostly real-estate projects, so don’t get that look in your eye.”
But she couldn’t shake the look, even as he keyed open his suite and she followed him inside, walking through a grand living room where a lounge of brown leather furniture encompassed a broad glass table, the Seattle bay and skyline just beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view.
When she reached the glass windows, she turned, glancing over her shoulder at him, as a realization dawned.
“Communities can’t fight you, can’t object to your pipelines and fracking if you’re the landlord.”
Taylor planted his fists on his hips, growing serious. “It’s not like that. We have no property in Bellevue.”
“But you offered to buy homes. You know what you’re doing is terrible for the environment and residents, and you tried to get them out.”
“You don’t see that as generous and compassionate?”
“No, I don’t. I see it as manipulative and self-serving.”
“Where’s the woman from the limo? I’d like to talk with her now.”
Rose laughed.
“Let me show you around,” he suggested. “Then we can get into our debate.”
Agreeing was a stretch. If Rose had a gift, it was being a hard-ass, uncompromising in heated situations and determined to push her agenda for the good of all, so taking her adversary’s lead on any suggestion, no matter how small, felt like backing down. But she was curious about the suite and padded towards him, her heels clicking over the shiny, hardwood floors as she went.
“This is my favorite thing about this building,” he said, sliding a glass door open that led to a balcony.
Rose followed him out, the warm morning sun kissing her face and shimmering off the bay. The panoramic view was impressive. Stepping up behind her as she gripped the brass railing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his cheek against the side of her head, holding her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Nodding, she said, “How long have you owned this building?”
He hesitated, lacing his fingers in front of her stomach. “Just a few years. Ever since my medical career ended, my father has passed down to me a number of real-estate properties and development projects.”
Taylor didn’t go into detail about what actually happened to end his career, but she sensed he wanted to.
“You didn’t want to go into teaching?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate. “You could’ve been a professor and stayed in the medical field.”
He grew quiet, so she turned, facing him.
“This is my life,” he said in a low tone. “I’ve reserved the rooftop for us. Are you hungry?”
He had her pinned against the railing, his hips pressing against her, his hands holding her back firmly. Resisting wasn’t easy, and part of her wanted to allow him to sweep her up into his world, being wined and dined and throwing caution to the wind. But Rose had come here for a reason.
“When are we going to talk?”
“Whenever you want,” he said easily. “After we eat. Before.”
“Before,” she said. “Lead the way.”
She tried not to gaze longingly at his four-poster bed as they passed the bedroom rounding through the hallway. The very thought of having him all to herself between the sheets was enough to disarm her, but by the time they stepped into the elevator, riding it two flights higher, the urge had passed.
When the door slid open with a ding, she stepped out onto the rooftop garden where lounge chairs were clustered around various glass tables and a bartender was waiting eagerly behind a long, oak bar. The hostess, a young woman wearing a black cocktail dress, her blond hair slicked up into a high ponytail, greeted them then escorted them to a table near the glass wall that lined the perimeter.
As they sat, Taylor asked her for two coffees, and Rose mentioned she’d like cream and sugar in hers. The hostess returned with their drinks a minute later.
“So did you want to start, or should I?” she asked.
“Ladies first,” he said with an amused smile.
“Good,” she said, gathering her thoughts and trying not to get sucked into his alluring looks. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head and eyeing her with interest that seemed to go far beyond the points she was preparing to make.
“The Starlight trench,” she began, “runs through Bellevue, weaving between schools and residential homes, and I get that the project obtained the necessary permits, and that you’re not in violation of veering too close to the community.”
“Correct. We aren’t. We measured carefully.”
“But those regulations don’t take into account how far gas could leak if the pipes erode or aren’t installed properly. A spill could contaminate drinking water. It could make people sick. Not to mention should a fire break out, the pipeline could explode.”
“You’re talking about worst-case scenarios.”
“I am,” she asserted. “And unfortunately, worst-case scenarios happen more than six hundred times a year. Last year, alone, seventeen people died and seventy were injured nationally. The property damage was just shy of three hundred million. Taylor, the worst-case scenarios are occurring far too frequently. And if you look at the response history of these oil companies, they aren’t doing much after the fact to help clean up, pay restitution and restore property, and prevent future spills.”
Listening to her, Taylor’s eyes had shifted, widening in such a way that told her he hadn’t known the statistics. He drew in a deep breath as if absorbing all she’d relayed, and then took a carefully measure
d sip of his coffee.
Finally, he said, “The track record of the construction company we’re using is flawless.”
Rose held her tongue, though she wanted to jump down his throat. He’d listened to her, so she was prepared to hear him out before she poked holes in his faulty logic.
“We have every reason to believe the build will go smoothly and without incident.” Taylor studied her scowling face. “Go on. Say what you’re dying to say.”
“The construction company you’re using hasn’t caused any spills,” she said, warming him up by agreeing to the only point that was true about what he'd said. “However, the actual materials they use are toxic, and they’ve been getting away with it because the regulations on materials affords a lot of room for error.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the aluminum materials they use to fasten the pipe segments together. I’m talking about their sealant, which is highly flammable, as well as toxic. Do you realize that besides the one water tower, the majority of Bellevue gets their drinking water from their own wells? As soon as those pipes go into the ground, chemicals are going to leech out into the earth.”
Concerned, he asked, “How do you know this?”
Rose pressed her mouth into a hard line, praying that the argument she was about to make wouldn’t be easily dismissed.
“One World has been tracking them. Over the past five years we’ve tested the soil and drinking water in towns where they’ve laid pipes for similar projects. Taylor, in some of these areas, the wildlife lays dead near ponds, frogs are floating belly up. We’re still gathering data and working on a class-action lawsuit, but it’s been really difficult proving it’s from their materials.”
“Then maybe it isn’t from their materials,” he suggested, though his tone sounded worried.
“The correlation is too exact to be mere coincidence,” she went on. “These have been healthy areas. Then, within one year of those materials going into the ground, people started getting sick, cancer has been on the rise, and animals are dropping dead. What else could it be?”
He considered her point. “What if we engaged a different company?”
“And reduce the hazard to leakage and spills?” she countered. “The people of Bellevue don’t want that pipeline running through their homes.”
“The era of trucking natural gas is over, Rose.”
“We can still reach a compromise.”
“Not yet,” he said, silencing her. “I’m going to have to look into this.”
She gaped at him. “Look into what? Government reports? They’re all clean. You aren’t going to find anything.”
“I can’t uproot a pipeline project that costs billions of dollars just because you feel strongly it’s bad for the environment. I need proof.”
Sighing in exasperation, she leaned back in her chair, shaking her head and gazing out at the view of Seattle, the bay, and Bellevue in the distance.
“I thought you said we’d settle this matter here and now,” she said, disgruntled.
“I wish we could. I need to look into this.”
Meeting his gaze, she asked, “Will you promise to keep the pipeline on hold while you do?”
Taylor clenched his jaw as though he were torn. “I’m not sure I can afford to.”
“Which means you aren’t really listening, and you don’t really believe me. You’re just placating me, and I don’t appreciate it.” After a long moment, she added, “If you go back to work, then so do I.”
“I could have you arrested.”
“You could,” she said, getting to her feet, “but you won’t. I need to get back to One World.”
Staring up at her, his jaw dropped. “I was looking forward to spending the day.”
“You don’t have time,” she said. “You’re going to be looking into things. And so am I.”
Chapter Five
Taylor didn’t want to let her go as he walked her across the red carpet outside the Escala and helped her into the limo, but it would be selfish to try to convince her to stay, and quite frankly, he was disturbed by all that she had brought to his attention. As someone who used to save lives on the operating table, the possibility that his pipeline could be detrimental to the health of an entire community was jarring.
He closed the limousine door, pained to see Rose disappear behind tinted glass, and then watched as the limo rolled off down the street.
It was a long ride up to the fiftieth floor, and when he reached his suite, Taylor heard giggling through the door.
Entering, he found his father, Porter Montgomery, fixing himself a drink at the bar in the far corner of the room, while two women who looked like models passed a cigarette between them from where they sat on the leather couch.
“What are you doing here?”
Porter straightened his back then turned, facing him. His white hair was combed so slick to his scalp that Taylor could see the teeth marks from across the room. As always, his father was dressed in a sharp, Armani suit. He angled his dark eyes on Taylor and a sly grin formed at the corners of his mouth.
“Don’t be rude, Taylor,” he said. “You’re acquainted with Jasmine and Cassandra. Say hello.”
Taylor offered the call girls a curt nod, but wouldn’t hold their flirtatious gazes. The mere reminder of them turned his stomach. Months ago, in an effort to keep Taylor relaxed and help his head stay in the game, Porter had hired the women to pay him a visit. It had been an impulsive and admittedly fun night, but had left Taylor feeling empty and unsatisfied the next day. It hadn’t been the first time his father had made that kind of arrangement for him, and wouldn’t be the last, evidently. But now that he’d met Rose, the thought of indulging in the company of two women who cared about nothing more than the cash they’d collect unnerved him.
“I think you know why I’m here,” said Porter, motioning for the escorts to excuse them.
“We’ll be in the bedroom, Taylor,” said Jasmine, whose long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her tight, red dress.
“How about the terrace,” he countered, but it only made Jasmine laugh.
Following Jasmine, Cassandra shut the bedroom door, affording father and son a bit of privacy.
“Who told you?” asked Taylor, who was furious that any of his subordinates would have told his father about the activist explosion after he’d specifically instructed them not to.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Porter. “It’s my right to be informed.”
“You handed me this project,” he said impatiently. “If you didn’t think I could handle it, if you assume you need to watch every move I make, then what was the point of putting me in charge?”
“Taylor, if you’re going to be snappish, I’m going to have to insist we resume this conversation after Jasmine and Cassandra have worked their magic on you.”
“You shouldn’t have brought them here. You’re only wasting their time,” he said.
Porter lifted his brows, as he stalked over to the couch and sat.
“What's the damage on the pipes?” he asked after drinking his whiskey.
Porter’s capacity to knock back hard liquor at any hour, no matter how early, never ceased to amaze Taylor.
“It was only one stack of pipes,” he began. “It would’ve made up five hundred yards.”
“I don’t need the details,” Porter interjected. “I need the amount, so I can revise the budget.”
“I’ll revise the budget,” he countered, but the look on his father’s face told him he had better be forthright with an answer. “Twenty thousand.”
“One stick of dynamite and you lost twenty thousand.”
“Apparently.”
“And those rebels are locked up? You’re pressing charges?”
“I’m handling it,” he said through his teeth.
“You have to press charges and file copies of the police report with our attorney so we can sue One World for damages.”
&nb
sp; Arguing with his father would be a futile effort, so he neither agreed nor refused, but lowered into the adjacent lounge chair.
“What do you know about the construction company we’re using?” he asked.
“Construction company?” he said as though it was a foreign term. “What do you want to know about them?”
“It’s been brought to my attention that their materials could be hazardous to the environment.”
Porter steadied his gaze on Taylor and his eyes grew dark, narrowing as if to caution his son. Drawing in a deep breath, he then lightened his mood and had another sip of his drink.
“Everything we do is by the book and legal,” he stated. “You know that.”
“But what if the materials are harming the environment and it’s going undocumented?”
“What if, what if,” he mused. “If such a thing were occurring, and it were brought to my attention, why I’d rectify it immediately. But it isn’t. We’ve been using Davey Construction for decades, not to mention we own them.”
“We own them?”
“We bought them out six years ago.”
Taylor tried to wrap his head around the legal ramifications of owning a construction company that was in the habit of using hazardous materials. Starlight wouldn’t be able to argue they had no idea, should Rose’s class-action lawsuit ever see the light of day. If Starlight owned Davey, then they were ultimately responsible for everything Davey did, which meant that Taylor would have to make it his business to find out what precisely was going on over at the site.
“Taylor?” his father asked when Taylor had drifted into thought, staring out the window at the view of Seattle. “You can’t put this project on hold. Now, what do you need in order to get underway?”
He glanced at his father, whose mouth was lifting into a strange smile. Seeing Porter smug made him want to roll his eyes and snort, but he held his expression steady.
“I’m not interested in those women,” he said in an even tone.
“Oh, come now. Every man is interested in beautiful women.”
Taylor was tempted to throw it in his father’s face that he’d found a beautiful woman he was quite happy with.
KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) Page 75