Fortune's Price

Chapter Four: The Plan

The waiter came by again, more pushy this time. Devereaux asked for an omelet; Eliza, too shaken up to eat, just wanted toast.

When alone again, she leaned in. "Let's say I believe you. What are you proposing?"

"An alliance." He leaned in too, close enough for her to see gold bits in his eyes. "Not the kind your grandfather has in mind, but one that'll benefit us both."

"Keep going."

"You want to make art and be known without the Morgan name. I want Meridian Publishing to thrive as part of my portfolio, with its best writer fully supported." He stopped. "And we both don't want to be just tools in Thomas Morgan's game."

It sounded reasonable. Almost too reasonable. "And the catch?"

He smiled slowly and slyly. "We make him think he's winning. For now."

"You want me to act like I'm going to marry you?" She almost laughed at how odd it was.

"I want you to keep your options open while we find out what your grandfather is really up to." He reached out, not touching her hand but close. "The three hundred million dollar question is: Why now? Why is Thomas so intent on saving Morgan Media right at this time?"

His question hit hard. Eliza was so caught up in her own shock from the news that she had not thought of the timing. Her grandfather was a planner; you have to give him that. Every step had a goal.

"You think he's hiding something."

"I'm sure of it." Devereaux took out a file from his briefcase and slid it over. "Morgan Media's financial report for the last three months. Not the one released to shareholders, the real ones."

Eliza paused before she opened the file. "How did you get this?"

"Like I said, acquisitions are my business." He didn't say more, but it said enough. "The company is losing money in its traditional publishing divisions. Paper orders are down 40%. The web hasn't fixed it."

She went through the papers, her publishing background making it clear how bad it was. "But the stock price has stayed the same. Even gone up."

"Because your grandfather has been quietly selling off buildings and moving the money back into operations to maintain the illusion of profitability." He lowered his voice. "Morgan Media is about six to eight months away from a liquidity crisis that will rock the publishing world."

She felt the news like a hit. The Morgan empire, built over generations, is close to falling. Her inheritance could turn to dust in a matter of months.

"He wants a way out," she said out loud. "He needs me as the new face of the firm to keep trust while he..." She stopped, seeing it all now. "While he plans to sell."

Devereaux nodded, respect in his look. "And a strategic marriage alliance with another media group would make Morgan Media look better to potential buyers."

"Or bring in needed capital infusion through the new spouse's family." It all fits, and not well. "He's selling me along with the firm."

"That's what I think."

Their food came, but they ignored it. Eliza's head spun with possibilities, implications, and options. None of them were good.

"Why are you telling me this?" she finally asked. "What would you gain from warning me?"

Devereaux thought for a bit. "A few things. One, I like knowing my rivals know the game; it makes it more fun. Two, I want Meridian Publishing and its top writer safe from whatever hits Morgan Media."

"And three?"

His face changed, a real look under his usual mask. "Three... I find myself wanting to see what Eliza Morgan does when she has all the facts at her disposal."

This felt closer than if he'd said something sweet. This was about respect, clearly worth more to him than feelings.

Then, her phone rang before she could respond. Her grandfather. It was indeed "Perfect Timing."

"I need to get this," she said.

Devereaux gave a nod, leaning back to give her some alone time.

"Grandfather," she spoke, not hiding her cool tone.

"Eliza." Thomas Morgan's voice was authoritative as always. "I see you've missed my calls."

"Just dealing with your surprise in the news."

An annoyed sound. "Just speeding up what had to happen. The board will agree on your job tomorrow. I expect you there."

Not asking. It was never an ask with Thomas Morgan.

"And if I decline?"

"Don't be difficult, Eliza. This is what you are meant to do. Your responsibility." A calculated pause. "I've set up dinner tonight with Jason Reynolds.

"His family's big media firm would be a good fit for Morgan. As would he for you."

Across the table, Devereaux lifted an eyebrow; clearly, he could hear both ends of the conversation. Eliza made a split-second decision.

"I have dinner plans," she said.

"Call them off."

"I can't. They are with Luca Devereaux."

Silence on the line, thick with shock and maybe rage. When Thomas spoke once more, his tone was carefully controlled.

"Devereaux is no good."

"Why?" she pushed back. "His firm just took over Meridian Publishing. Isn't that exactly the kind of strategic alliance you want?"

"That deal is just about work." His sharp tone showed Devereaux was not the man her grandfather would pick for her. "Devereaux is... complicated. Reynolds is a better option."

"I'll be the judge of that." She found strength in her voice. "I will meet your Reynolds another time."

"Eliza...."

"Bye, Grandfather. I'll think about attending the board meeting."

She hung up before he could talk back, a small but bold move that made her heart race. Devereaux gave her a keen look.

"It seems we are on for dinner," he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"It seems we are." She put her phone down firmly. "But just so we're clear—this is an alliance of convenience. I don't trust you, Mr. Devereaux."

"Luca," he said quickly. "And you shouldn't trust me. Not all the way. I don't fully trust you either."

"Then what's the use?"

"The thing is, Eliza, some partnerships are not built on trust but on aligned interests." He looked at his cold breakfast. "We both want to thwart your grandfather's plans. We both want Meridian Publishing to thrive with E.M. Blake as its top writer. And we both like to steer our own paths."

Put like that, it made a whole lot of sense.

"So what happens at this dinner?" she asked.

"We get to know more about each other. Out in the open." His grin came back, both bold and warm. "We give the press something else to talk about besides the changes at Morgan Media. And we buy ourselves time to figure out what your grandfather is up to."

"And my book? The one Meridian wants?"

"I'd like to have a look." He seemed to mean it. "Or what you have of it."

The idea of sharing her not-done book made her uneasy. "It's not ready."

"Rarely are things worth much while they are still being made." He took out a card from his jacket and slid it across.

"My private number. Send me your address. I'll pick you up at seven."

"I can meet you at the restaurant."

He shook his head. "If we are doing this, it has to be convincing. Thomas Morgan will have folks watching. So will the press, after this morning's news."

The weight of what she agreed to hit her. A show in public with a man she barely knew and didn't trust. A planned lie to her grandfather. A high-risk play with her future, her job, and her family's legacy at stake.

"Seven then," she said finally. "Don't be late."

Devereaux's smile grew, his eyes twinkling with joy. "I'm not, ever, for big meets." He waved for the bill. "One last thing, Eliza."

"Yes?"

"Wear something memorable. If we're to show them something, let's make it worth their while."

With that, he stood up, left money that surely was more than enough for their meal, and walked out from Palm Court. Every eye in the room followed him; some knew him, and others just felt the shift of power in the air.

Eliza stayed seated, the financial documents still open before her, the taste of risk and thrill on her tongue. She had just made a deal with a man famous for taking apart firms and throwing out what he didn't need.

The question was, when this game is over, would she be among the assets he keeps or the liabilities he tosses out?