Reckless (Bertoli Crime Family #2) (19 page)

“Is there a problem?” Christine asked me.

Numbly, I shook my head and raised the phone to my lips.

“Pierre?” I ask weakly.

He was still there after all this time.

“Yes?”

Despite the grave situation, I almost laughed at the desperation in his voice.

“There is a fashion designer by the name of Amanda Kersey—”

“She’s done,” Pierre cut in. “I'll be calling her immediately to tell her that something came up and someone else will be taking her place.”

The line went dead and I stood there, feeling numb all over.

“Victoria?” Christine said to me. I looked over at her, noting the wicked curl to her lips. She’d won her little power play and now could privately gloat. “Stop standing there like an imbecile and get to work.”

She’s really testing me.

Holding back an acidic reply, I turned away and numbly walked back to my desk, slamming the phone down. I grasped my head in my palms and blew out a stressful breath. After a moment, I straightened up and began going through Christine’s schedule, marking the calendar for Pierre’s show.

As much as I wanted to quit my job, I knew if I stuck it out for a little while longer, big things would happen for me. At least that’s what I hoped.

“That door just can’t open quick enough,” I muttered to myself.

“
Y
ou’ve got
to get your shit together, man,” Jeff growled at me.

Sitting back in my chair, I winced as a sharp pain sliced through my brain. As usual, I’d stayed up late after a night of drinking and wild sex. It would’ve been worth it, but the girl I’d gone home with last night, a blonde with big tits and a nice round ass, had been too eager to suck my dick.

I like a challenge, a girl who likes to play hard to get, and lately, all of them have given it up without any effort from me.

Too easy.

It probably had something to do with the fact that I was a man of wealth, co-founder of Armex Corp with my father, James Locklin. Or maybe it was just my confident swagger. I was, after all, six-foot-three, tall, blonde and cut like exquisitely carved stone thanks to my workout regimen.

Jeff hissed with exasperation and leaned across the table. “Are you listening to me?”

The pain in my skull pounded relentlessly. I didn't want to listen to this shit. How many times had I heard it before? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Who gives a fuck? I don’t.

“You can’t keep sleeping around with these groupie sluts,” Jeff continued. “As one of the top executives, you're making Armex look bad.”

I settled my gaze on Jeff. With dark brown hair and hazel eyes, he was a few years my senior. He was dressed in a business suit that made him look older than what he really was. I think he needed to lighten up and go out and get some pussy, then maybe he wouldn’t be so uptight all the time. I could fix him up in one night.

“I don’t see how the girls I fuck are any business of the company,” I responded in a cavalier tone that I knew would piss Jeff off. I enjoyed getting under people's skin, for no other reason than I knew I could without consequence.

It worked.

“Well, it is when it's affecting our public image and our bottom line,” Jeff growled back at me, his face twisting into an angry scowl. “If you made sure no one saw you publicly consorting with those skanks, then it would be different. Since you don’t, the board members are getting tired of it. They’re tired of your making us look unprofessional.”

Anger boiled up from my rock-hard abs. How dare my peers complain about my private business? I was the co-founder of the fucking company. They wouldn’t be shit without me.

"That's bullshit, Jeff, and you know it. Since when is it a crime to have a life outside of your place of business? Shit, half these guys cheat on their wives behind their backs and have the fucking nerve to tell me that I can't live the way I want to on my own time? Fuck off."

I didn't miss the poorly-hidden smile flash across Jeff's face. "All I know is, if you don't start behaving soon, you might be out of a job. There’s talk of a vote. Co-founder or not . . .”

Enraged, I jumped out of my chair and regretted it a second later. The pain stabbed my brain like a hammer pounding a nail into wood. "A vote?" I snorted, fighting back the momentary dizziness that overcame me. “The fuck for? Are they going to demote me? Fire me? They can't do that. My dad will—”

Jeff gave me his infamous
gotcha
smirk. "Your dad is in agreement.”

I froze momentarily, shocked. I couldn't believe that my dad, the biggest womanizer I know, could be party to something as asinine as this.

"Your dad thinks if you're to become CEO one day, you have to drop the bad boy image. Instead of rolling around with the local sluts, maybe it's time you start looking for a suitable partner. Settle down."

"Fuck that." The idea appalled me. I'd been in a serious relationship before and it didn't turn out well. I'd worn my heart on my sleeve only to get fucked royally in the end when I caught her cheating on me. On
me
.

After that, I'd decided that no girl was worthy of my love, and my new motto was to fuck 'em and then leave 'em.

Jeff stared at me. "This isn't a game, Tyler. You need to seriously get it together or face losing your position in the company." He paused, smirking once again. "Charles Whitmore is looking to take your spot if you don’t shape up."

I stared at him incredulously. "Is this a fucking joke?" It had to be. I couldn't imagine my father listening to such bullshit. Charles Whitmore, my nemesis at Armex, had swiftly risen through the ranks of the corporate world. Although pretty douche, he was only a few years older and a pretty shrewd businessman—as much as I hated to admit it.

Still, there was no way he could fill my shoes. No fucking way. This had to be one huge conspiracy by my lesser peers to fuck with me.

Jeff shook his head. "Nope. Not at all."

"I don't believe this," I growled. "I'm going to talk to my father about it. I don't believe for one second that he'd ever go against me."

Jeff leaned back in his chair and continued to grin at me, making me want to smash his face in. "You do that."

* * *

"
Y
ou have become
a liability to the company," my father said to me. I was standing at his desk in his swanky office within his three-story mansion, and I needed a strong drink to take in what I was hearing.

I studied him with disbelief. My father's a big man, barrel-chested with greying hair, and a complete egomaniac. He was dressed in a business suit, his tie loosened and his blazer draped over the back of his chair.

I thought Jeff was blowing hot air when he told me that my father was in compliance with this nonsense. To hear it from the horse's mouth enraged me.

"Word of your . . .” my father paused, searching for the right word to describe my antics that had riled everyone up, “
play
has gotten around and is traveling around the corporate circles."

I began to protest, but my father raised a stern finger to quiet me. "Ordinarily your behavior wouldn’t be a problem. You’re a grown man who’s free to do whatever you choose when it comes to your personal life. But, a large demographic of Armex customers hold family values in high regard. If you continue to . . . misbehave in public, then the board will vote to replace you.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“I founded this fucking company with you,” I growled as I stabbed a finger at the ground, anger burning my throat. “You can’t replace me.”

My dad stared at me calmly. “Yes, you did. And despite your bad habits that you've developed over the years, you are a wonderful businessman—shrewd as they come. But in order for our company to survive, concessions must be made. Clean up your act—or else.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I shouted, unable to control my anger any longer.

He didn't answer, but he didn't have to. He was dead serious. He wanted to out me. His son. Me, who'd helped him build the company from the ground up. And for what? All because I scorned relationships and liked to get pussy whenever and however I wanted?

“Listen to yourself!” I continued. “If you had any balls, you would tell them to go fuck themselves. I’m your son, for Christ’s sake! Armex wouldn’t be shit without me.”

His jaw bulged and he gripped the edge of his desk, a sign that my words had gotten to him.

“Charles Whitmore?” I demanded. “Charles fucking Whitmore?”

“He’s shown himself to be an exemplary employee, and he wants to see this company to the next level . . .”

Unlike you.

His words trailed off, but I heard the unspoken meaning behind them.

Clearing his throat, Dad stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “I’m sorry that you're angry, son. But this really shouldn't be a problem. The solution is simple. Stop with the public womanizing and keep your job.”

“You let those assholes vote against me, and I’ll make sure you regret it.” The words left my lips before I could stop them.

He paused for a moment, considering my words. Finally, he said, “Choose your battles carefully, son.” He shrugged on his coat. “I’m going to pick up Martha from the Bolingers’. They're planning a dinner party for an event later this month. If you haven’t dug yourself into a hole by then, I expect you to attend.” He walked from the room, leaving me standing there simmering with anger.

Martha was his newlywed wife. I’d only met her twice, once at the wedding and another time at a family function. She was nice enough, I guess, but a woman who had no real assets to speak of. It was a mystery why my dad chose to marry her.

“Oh, trust me, Dad,” I said to myself as I walked over to the cabinet behind his desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy along with a glass. I needed something to drink to calm the frustration that I felt. “I have every intention of fighting this battle.”

"
Y
our life is over
," I said, smacking down a glass on the bar counter.

Brad, my childhood best friend, peered over at me, his eyes bloodshot. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, while I was still dressed in my work clothes, black silk slacks and a white dress shirt. I usually dressed well when I went to clubs, flaunting the fact that I had money. "Why do you say that?

We were sitting in a popular bar, you know, one of the trash dens that the company doesn't want to see me in. After my explosive blowout with Dad, Brad called me, saying that he was having relationship problems in the form of his fiancée practically forcing him to give her an official wedding date. To make matters worse, the wedding she wanted was going to cost a fortune and would temporarily bankrupt him.

I'd told Brad that I would meet him and we could both talk about our problems.

"If she’s already calling the shots now," I told him, "then what do you think it's going to be like when you're married?"

Brad let out a groan and stared down into his glass with a forlorn expression. "Don't remind me, man. I'm already fucking stressed the hell out. I've only been working at the law firm for less than a year. How the fuck does she expect me to afford the kind of wedding that she wants?"

"What does she want?"

Brad made a sour face. "Everything. I mean, like, her family is huge. She has like ten sisters who must have a hundred little girls, and she wants every last one to be flower girls. She wants to rent out the Promade and have the wedding out on the lawn, complete with an orchestra, band and entertainment. Not to mention, she wants me to provide the clothing for all her immediate family."

I let out a low whistle.

"Tell me about it," Brad continued. "I don't know how Katie thinks we can afford it. I know I have a pretty good job, but damn, at least give on something. If it wasn’t for all our student loan debt, we could probably swing it.”

I signaled the bartender for another drink—a slender girl dressed in a cut-off top that bared her midriff. She smiled at me and scurried off to the mixer. She wanted my dick, I was sure of it, but I wasn't interested. I usually didn't go for girls who had tattoos, even though I had a couple myself. It was just one of my hypocrisies.

"Where does Katie work again?"

“She’s a groomer. She loves animals." Brad laughed. "Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she'd want me to dress the damn dogs in tuxes too."

"I feel your pain, brother," I said. I really didn't. Brad, I think, had fallen into a trap. After my one true relationship had failed, I'd lost belief in true love. Brad would wind up regretting getting married and getting stuck with kids, mark my words.

Of course, I didn’t want to tell him what I really felt, because I thought it would only piss him off. He had too much invested in this Katie chick at this point, and I've learned it's better to let people make their own mistakes rather than try to dissuade them.

The bartender chick walked over and placed my drink down before me. I reached into my pocket to pay for it when she stopped me.