things like wedding details, of course.
“Fine,” snapped Charlene. “I will have you know that if Bomer’s father insists on working his son to the bone, I intend to fight him on it. I will no t have an absentee husband for the rest of my life.”
“Fine, fine,” her father mumbled.
Letting rip a disgruntled cry, Charlene turned on her heel and strode out, finally leaving that great man alone with his thoughts.
He sat back in his chair and read through Dawson’s article once again. Jerry Vale had sent him the link, pointing out the latest stunt of the young reporter. It needed addressing, as did all of Dawson’s attempts to undermine Falcone’s vast business empire.
He hadn’t built up a sizable fortune only to see it jeopardized by some pesky reporter. When word had reached him that Dawson was planning an exposé revealing some of his shady business dealings, he’d immediately been on the horn with his old friend Murphy Roops, who owned the New York Chronicle, and told him in no uncertain terms that Dawson had to go. Roops had immediately agreed, and had handled the situation with satisfactory expedience.
It didn’t hurt that Falcone owned a controlling interest in Roops’s Press Corp.
He stared at the blog entry and the picture of Felicity Bell wielding a gun in some sort of convenience store setting, and wondered if he shouldn’t talk to his lawyers and bring an action for libel and defamation of character. Or was it slander? Lawyerese had never been his strong suit.
On the other hand, if this first blog post was anything to go by, he’d overestimated Dawson. At the very least he’d expected him to get his facts straight. As it was, he’d never even heard of Felicity Bell, though of course he was familiar with Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room. But working for him? Had the young reporter gone mad? Had his summary dismissal from the New York Chronicle sent him teetering over the edge into insanity?
Odd, he felt. Ominous, even.
His interest piqued, he decided to investigate this matter further. Something told him this Bell person was a chink in Rick Dawson’s armor. A chink which could be exploited.
He picked up the phone and within seconds a raspy voice sounded.
“Vale? Falcone. About this blog post. I want you to get to the bottom of this thing. Find out everything you can about Felicity Bell and her ties to Rick Dawson.” He listened for a few moments, then disconnected. He saw that this matter would require his personal touch, and before long he was on the phone with his secretary, the inestimable Suzy Boom.
“Suzy, cancel all my meetings. I’ll be out of town for a couple of days.”
He typed the name Felicity Bell into a Google search window. Up popped a YouTube video and he clicked on the play button. What he saw surprised him. A curvy woman with flaming red hair was talking about her sex life while baking a cake. Odd, he felt, but then again, in this day and age of sex tapes and naked singers he knew that little should surprise him.
“No sex,” the woman was saying. “Sex only complicates things.”
Puzzled, he shook his head.
This thing was getting curiouser and curiouser by the minute.
CHAPTER 23
In the small office which his father had assigned to him, Baldemar ‘Bomer’ Calypso, a goofy-looking young man with butter-colored hair, rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been slaving away all night on his father’s project and the only reason he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk was the liters of coffee he’d been drinking. Now that a new day dawned, he felt it was a good time to take a break. His deadline was looming, and he knew he couldn’t afford to miss it. Even though he was the son of one of New York’s wealthiest real estate tycoons, Dad was of the old-fashioned notion that his children had to work for their money, and not fritter away the family fortune by yachting in the Bahamas, skiing in Biarritz and playing baccarat in Monte Carlo.
Dad had made it perfectly clear
“Fine,” snapped Charlene. “I will have you know that if Bomer’s father insists on working his son to the bone, I intend to fight him on it. I will no t have an absentee husband for the rest of my life.”
“Fine, fine,” her father mumbled.
Letting rip a disgruntled cry, Charlene turned on her heel and strode out, finally leaving that great man alone with his thoughts.
He sat back in his chair and read through Dawson’s article once again. Jerry Vale had sent him the link, pointing out the latest stunt of the young reporter. It needed addressing, as did all of Dawson’s attempts to undermine Falcone’s vast business empire.
He hadn’t built up a sizable fortune only to see it jeopardized by some pesky reporter. When word had reached him that Dawson was planning an exposé revealing some of his shady business dealings, he’d immediately been on the horn with his old friend Murphy Roops, who owned the New York Chronicle, and told him in no uncertain terms that Dawson had to go. Roops had immediately agreed, and had handled the situation with satisfactory expedience.
It didn’t hurt that Falcone owned a controlling interest in Roops’s Press Corp.
He stared at the blog entry and the picture of Felicity Bell wielding a gun in some sort of convenience store setting, and wondered if he shouldn’t talk to his lawyers and bring an action for libel and defamation of character. Or was it slander? Lawyerese had never been his strong suit.
On the other hand, if this first blog post was anything to go by, he’d overestimated Dawson. At the very least he’d expected him to get his facts straight. As it was, he’d never even heard of Felicity Bell, though of course he was familiar with Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room. But working for him? Had the young reporter gone mad? Had his summary dismissal from the New York Chronicle sent him teetering over the edge into insanity?
Odd, he felt. Ominous, even.
His interest piqued, he decided to investigate this matter further. Something told him this Bell person was a chink in Rick Dawson’s armor. A chink which could be exploited.
He picked up the phone and within seconds a raspy voice sounded.
“Vale? Falcone. About this blog post. I want you to get to the bottom of this thing. Find out everything you can about Felicity Bell and her ties to Rick Dawson.” He listened for a few moments, then disconnected. He saw that this matter would require his personal touch, and before long he was on the phone with his secretary, the inestimable Suzy Boom.
“Suzy, cancel all my meetings. I’ll be out of town for a couple of days.”
He typed the name Felicity Bell into a Google search window. Up popped a YouTube video and he clicked on the play button. What he saw surprised him. A curvy woman with flaming red hair was talking about her sex life while baking a cake. Odd, he felt, but then again, in this day and age of sex tapes and naked singers he knew that little should surprise him.
“No sex,” the woman was saying. “Sex only complicates things.”
Puzzled, he shook his head.
This thing was getting curiouser and curiouser by the minute.
CHAPTER 23
In the small office which his father had assigned to him, Baldemar ‘Bomer’ Calypso, a goofy-looking young man with butter-colored hair, rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been slaving away all night on his father’s project and the only reason he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk was the liters of coffee he’d been drinking. Now that a new day dawned, he felt it was a good time to take a break. His deadline was looming, and he knew he couldn’t afford to miss it. Even though he was the son of one of New York’s wealthiest real estate tycoons, Dad was of the old-fashioned notion that his children had to work for their money, and not fritter away the family fortune by yachting in the Bahamas, skiing in Biarritz and playing baccarat in Monte Carlo.
Dad had made it perfectly clear
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