Owned by Fate (Serve #1)(14)

“Uh, Mr. Laurie…” Caroline removed an imaginary piece of lint from her skirt. “Do you honestly believe that the demographic—the financially sound and otherwise kinky—is large enough to warrant its own magazine? Keep in mind, we’ll be losing more than half of our current readers who have no interest in”—she refolded her newspaper a different way—“whatever goes on at these places.”

Oliver leaned forward. “That’s the thing, Ro. It’s not just what takes place in clubs. People practice it at home. Role-playing, bondage—”

“Dear God, stop. Please.” Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose. “The fact that I have to hear my brother talk about this stuff is reason enough to veto the idea.”

Asher ran a nervous hand through his hair. “To answer your question, yes, I do believe the demo is large enough, as we’re hoping you find out for yourself with the trial feature story. Right now you’re targeting Wall Street financiers. This magazine would have a national audience.” When Caroline didn’t respond, he took a different tack. “Oliver mentioned you stopped by Serve Friday night.”

“Yes, of course. I can’t write my piece without the proper—”

“Experience?” Jonah supplied, speaking up for the first time.

She kept her features carefully composed, making damn certain not to look at him. That settled it. Jonah was here to humiliate her. Why wouldn’t he just get it over with? “I only had one drink.” Total truth.

“What was your impression of the customers?” Oliver asked, although he looked as though he already knew the answer. Once again, it struck Caroline how invested her brother had become in this crazy plan. His usual complacency had been replaced by a touch of excitement.

Feeling guilty that she would be the one to curtail it, Caroline glanced down at the floor. “Rich, polished. The type we’d want purchasing Preston’s.”

“But they aren’t purchasing it anymore,” Oliver reminded her. “We need to get ahead of this. Supply this product before people even become aware they’re demanding it. Let’s move with the times.”

“Yes,” Asher agreed. “And reach outside New York. This isn’t the only place where the wealthy choose to live. Think Vegas, Miami, Los Angeles. The list goes on.”

Caroline shook her head. “I can’t go against my father on this. Everything he’s worked for…not when there’s every possibility we could become a laughingstock.” She sighed as Asher and her brother exchanged weary glances. Man, being the bad guy blew.

Oliver nodded in Jonah’s direction. “Mr. Briggs—”

“Jonah.”

“Jonah.” Oliver jotted something down on a notepad. “If you don’t mind my asking, how many customers would you say come through Serve each month?” He waved a hand toward Jonah. “Oh, Caroline, I forgot to mention, Jonah is the owner of Serve. He’s here as kind of an expert.”

Expert indeed. Caroline swallowed hard. “Fine.”

Jonah winked. “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction Friday night.”

Her smile was so stiff that she thought it might crack. “Just swell, thanks.”

“Excellent.” After a beat, he looked back at Oliver. “Anywhere from fifteen to twenty thousand customers per month. We entertain men and women from all those cities you mentioned and more.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Some are traveling for business. Others fly to New York simply to attend Serve. The numbers are growing steadily.”

“Fifteen to twenty thou—” Oliver shook his head. “Fewer people buy Preston’s.”

She could sense all three men staring at her. “I know the numbers.”

A shadow crossed Jonah’s face. “I would argue that Serve’s vetting process is stricter than that of most Fortune 500 companies who grace the pages of your magazine. Criminal history checks, interviews, even health records if I feel a client’s desired activity calls for it.” He rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip. “All that in addition to constant surveillance and more security than is required by law. Are you writing all this down? I’d hate you to leave it out of your story.”

Oliver sat forward, interrupting her view of Jonah. “My sister is always thorough. She has earned her reputation the hard way, just like all of us.” Her brother looked faraway for a moment before he returned his attention to her. “Listen to what they’re telling us, Ro. We have no other option.”

Not true. Well, not entirely true. Caroline happened to have an emergency chute stuffed in her back pocket. One that she had been carefully cultivating through endless hours of work. One that could save Preston’s and gain them a new dose of relevancy. She’d become aware of the potential story through one of her most trusted sources two months ago. This source had brought her enough information to arouse her suspicion that a well-respected Wall Street investment banker by the name of Joseph Kimble was running an intricate Ponzi scheme. One that could bankrupt thousands of people nationwide. As far as Caroline knew, she and her source were the only two living souls who shared this belief, and she’d been quietly digging for the truth nonstop. Visiting old employees of Kimble, investigating his past business dealings.

If Caroline could break this story within the next two weeks, her article would earn Preston’s the notoriety they needed to pull through. It would mean paid televised interviews, new advertisers, and above all, esteem in the journalistic community. Even after her promised feature about Serve. Not to mention it would garner her father’s respect. It would make him proud of her and save the publication in one fell swoop. She couldn’t mention it to Oliver, however. Not until she was sure. Not until the words that would go to press had been written and verified ten times over.