Revenge: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (38 page)

"
Y
ou don't have
to worry about me embarrassing you anymore," I said to my father as I sat directly across from him in his office. "My relationship with Victoria is over."

My father regarded me wearily. "Is that why you suddenly started drinking?"

I nodded. Normally I didn't reveal private things that involved emotion with him, but I felt like I needed to, so that we'd be able to at least function on speaking terms for the betterment of Armex.

“Yes. We haven’t seen each other for a few months now, actually.”

“I suppose that explains a lot,” Dad muttered. He stared at me. "I'm sorry, son. How are you doing?”

I shrugged. "I'm over it."

"Don't try to act all nonchalant with me, Tyler." Dad sat back in his seat. "For a while I didn't believe you cared about Victoria one way or the other. I believed you were just using her to get back at me because I wanted you to have a perfect relationship. In reality, I should have been happy you finally found someone who could rein you in. Lord knows you’ve picked some real keepers. Like . . .”

"Don't even mention her name,” I growled.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, after I thought about it, I realized standing in your way was just going to make matters worse."

Gee, Dad
, I thought wryly.
Now
you want to come to this conclusion when our relationship is over. How convenient.

I saw no use in arguing about it. What was done, was done.

I held in a groan. I really didn't want to hear all this now after all I’d gone through. After all, what good did it do me? I was dead to Victoria.

"All of that doesn't matter anymore," I said flatly. "It's over, so you can stop worrying about me ruining the company's image, making a fool of myself or going around screwing anything that moves. I'm done with all that. For good."

“That’s music to my ears. But I just want you to be happy, son," Dad said empathically. "That's all I've ever wanted from the beginning."

I snorted. “You sure have a hell of a way of showing it. You threatened to replace me with Charles Whitmore. I mean, I would’ve been pissed either way, but Charles Whitmore? I can’t stand that guy and you know it!" I'd intended to keep my cool during our little talk, but I was shocked at the anger that came through my voice.

Dad made a ‘calm down' motion with his hand. “Relax, Ty. I never had any intention of replacing you with Charles. Well, maybe for a minute out of anger. Of course I knew you were rivals. I hoped that telling you he would take your spot would light a fire under your ass.”

“Well how’d that work out?” I muttered sourly.

Dad ignored me. "And there's another thing, Ty." He paused and I knew whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'm sorry . . . for pressuring you to break up with Victoria. Sometimes, I feel like we're more alike than you know. When someone tells us not to do something, it makes us want to do it that much more.”

I grew silent. For my dad to apologize . . . well, it was unheard of. I can’t remember him ever saying those words to me before for
anything
. He wasn’t as prideful as me, but he was damn near close.

“Um, thanks, Dad," I said awkwardly. "I know that must’ve been tough.”

Dad wiped at sweat that was suddenly beading his forehead. "You can say that again.”

I stood up out of my chair and stretched out my arms, suddenly eager to get away. "Alright, I'm going to go. Got a report I need to finish. See you tomorrow." I turned to leave.

"Wait."

I paused. "Huh?

"One last thing." He fiddled with one of his favorite pens, a gift I'd gotten him one Christmas that was emblazoned with gold and personalized with his name. "If you should somehow get back with Victoria . . . you have my blessing."

"
S
hit
, I feel like the world is crashing down on my head," Brad groaned, downing a shot. He let out a heavy sigh and smacked the glass back down on the bar, rattling my glass of Sprite. "The wedding is two weeks from now."

Brad had called me to meet up with him to discuss his upcoming wedding and the anxiety he had over it. Not having anything particularly important happening, I was quick to oblige. I seem to have a lot more free time on my hands these days.

"Everything is going to work out fine," I assured him. "I got everything covered. Stop worrying, stop stressing. It's not worth it."

Brad regarded me with bloodshot eyes. "Well, just look at Positive Suzy over here. Everything is just flowers and rainbows for you, isn't it?"

I fingered my cold glass of Sprite, wishing it was something stronger. "You called me here to give you support. I'm giving it, but if you want, I can tell you how stupid you are and how your life is over instead."

Brad shook his head. "Nah, nah. You're right. I should stop being such a little bitch. It's just that . . .” He groaned. "Katie won’t stop talking about babies! I mean, what's wrong with her? I’m just getting going with my career, and she literally wants to conceive on our honeymoon.” Brad signaled the waitress to bring him another glass and promptly turned it up as soon as it arrived. "Fuck, man."

Babies
. Just even thinking about the concept felt alien to me. I'd never really given much thought to the idea, never really wanted a kid except for maybe when my youth was gone and I was too old to do all the things I loved to do.

For some reason, the thought of babies brought Victoria to my mind. Her pretty smile. Her stubborn personality. I could totally see us having . . .

In panic, I pushed the troublesome thoughts away.
I must be getting old,
I thought.

"You need to put your foot down," I told him. "Now instead of later. Have a talk before the wedding. Come to an understanding."

"Ugh," Brad groaned. "I don't know."

I placed a hand on Brad's shoulder. "Look, a healthy relationship is based on equal partnership, not a dictatorship. A considerate and loving partner will listen to your wants and needs and take them into consideration when they come into conflict with their own. You should be able to tell Katie yours, and then you guys should be able to discuss things and find a happy medium. I mean, come on. If you guys can't see eye to eye now, how do you expect to remain married? Why get married in the first place?"

Look at me sounding like I'm some sort of therapist
, I thought. For some reason, being without Victoria had made me become all preachy.

Brad stared at me for an entire minute before he spoke. I wondered if he could even comprehend what I was saying. “Who the fuck are you? I mean, you look like Tyler. At least I think you do. I’m pretty drunk, after all. But you know what?” he asked. “Whoever you are, you're right. I should have a talk with her, let her know who’s boss."

"There you go," I said. "Grow some balls."

Brad snorted. "I've always had balls. Katie's just had a grip on them for the longest time. A sharp, nail-filled grip."

I winced at the image his words summoned.

"But now she's talking about buying a house as soon as we’re back from the honeymoon—you know—a place to put said babies in," he moaned, looking like he was about to fall apart.

I tightened my grip on his shoulder. "Remember what I said," I reasoned. "Talk it out like two adults. Everything will be fine."

Or run now while you still can
, I thought.
Run far, far, away. Save your sanity.

I didn't bother saying what I was thinking. I knew that Brad was dead set on marrying her, despite all of his complaining. He loved Katie more than life itself.

"I hope so."

"Trust me, it will."

I'll be surprised if he even attempts to talk to her
, I thought.
And if he does, the conversation probably won’t last but a minute before he just caves into whatever she wants.

“Enough of me; have you heard anything from Victoria?" Brad asked.

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. "We haven’t seen each other for a while now.”

"I'm sorry, man," Brad slurred. "She was a pretty girl.

Pretty wasn't the start of it.

"It's alright," I lied. "I've had worse happen to me."

Our conversation drifted to more mundane matters, Brad talking about his law firm and the raise he was looking forward to, while I talked about how much better Armex was doing now that I had my shit together.

"You're still on to be my best man, right?" Brad slurred as his head seemed to be bouncing around like a bobblehead.

To be honest, I really didn't want to go to the wedding. I was just getting over my depression, and a cheery celebration would only make it worse. I felt like it would remind me of what I lost .
. .

"You
are
coming, right?" Brad persisted. "After you spent all that money on those high-fashioned outfits, it would be a shame if you didn't."

A jolt of lightning went through me.

Fashion! That's it!

"Fuck, Brad,” I said, clapping him hard on the back. “You’re a genius.”

Brad peered at me stupidly. “Tell me something I don’t know, will ya?”

I gulped down my entire glass of Sprite and grinned. “Never mind.”

“Shit. You’re acting more hammered than I am and you haven’t taken one sip.”

“Must be the those flowers you were talking about earlier.”

Brad groaned, grabbing at his temples. “Whatever, man. My fucking head hurts. I know I’m going to wake up to a disgusting hangover tomorrow.” He paused to stare at me. “You are coming to the wedding, though, right?”

Adopting an assuring smile, I draped an arm over Brad and signaled the waitress. Maybe I'd have a drink after all.

"I'll be there, buddy.”

"
I
'm sorry
, Christine isn’t available right now, can I take a message?" I asked.

“No, you can’t,” said the frigid woman's voice on the other end of the line. "Just tell her that I, or my models, won't be attending since she doesn't have the decency to be available when I need her most."

Click.

What the hell was that about?

Setting down the phone, I let out a frustrated sigh, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. I was having a stressful day. Christine had chosen to take the day off for some unknown reason, leaving me to take a million messages. I'd taken up residence in her office, and I would've been flattered by sitting in her seat if not for all the stress that came along with it.

Now she's going to blame me for Mrs. White canceling,
I thought.
Even though I have no idea why.

Patty White was a popular fashion designer that was supposed to be Christine's friend, and she usually supported all of Christine's events.

Apparently something must've happened between the two. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad for her to pull something like that. Christine's summer events were all the talk in the business.

"Just great," I muttered as I fingered through Christine's event planner, found Patty's name, and put a note to the side. "Just one more thing for her to bitch about when she comes back."

A knock at the doorway caused me to jump.

"Hey new boss lady!" April chirped cheerfully, popping her head through the doorway. "When did the wicked witch die and make you the new queen?" She stepped fully into the room, a stack of papers in her hands.

As usual, I thought she looked adorable. Her hair was pulled into two little girl ponytails on either side of her head, and she wore a white tank top and a white skirt embroidered with some kind of sparkly studs. Spiked boots adorned her feet.

If there was one thing I could say about April—she knew how to dress.

I groaned. "Please don't. I'm already nauseous and the day isn't half over yet."

"Oh please, I would kill to be in that chair," said April.

I stood up and motioned to Christine's seat, which we all had dubbed 'The Throne'. "Be my guest."

April clutched her papers to her chest and shook her head, her tails shaking about. "Nope. She put you in charge, not me. Though why she did that boggles my mind."

Actually, Christine had eased up quite a bit since Tyler had shown up. She hadn't been Mother Theresa by any standards—she was Christine Finnerman, after all. But she’d started to give me a little more responsibility, like today, for example. All of the useless errands she used to put me on, she made the newer girls do. I appreciated it and welcomed the experience.

“I’m basically here to take messages, not much else. But I agree, she has been a little different.”

“Must be something in the water,” April muttered. Then she shook her head. “But you might want to sit back down, because you might not like what I’m about to tell you.”

“What?” I demanded, gripping the edge of Christine’s desk, my heart beginning to pound. I eyed the papers April held with a sneaking suspicion.

“Christine was supposed to be a panelist for a modeling audition today.”

“Huh?” I asked in confusion. I was relieved and confused at the same time, and I had no idea what April was talking about. I usually handled Christine’s schedule, and I knew nothing about this.

“The male modeling auditions for Christine’s underwear line. It’s today. From time to time, Christine sits in. I thought you knew that?”

Before I could reply, April continued talking. “Anyway, me, Gabe and a couple of our co-workers are sitting in.” She beamed at me, shaking her pony tails with glee. “And guess who is filling in for Christine?”

“Me?” I squeaked in disbelief.

April nodded, jumping up and down with excitement.

“But she didn’t even tell me this!” I protested. I’m all for the extra responsibility, but I didn’t know the first thing about judging models, especially male models. Not only that, Christine hadn't told me a thing about it, robbing me of the chance to prepare.

If I held them to the standards to Tyler, they'd probably all come up short anyway.

I had no idea why I thought of that right then.

“It’s Christine. I don’t question anything she does,” April said. “I learned that a long time ago.”

"Oh God," I groaned. This is going to be a nightmare.

"Don't worry," April soothed. “Look at the bright side, at least you get to look at some hot guys modeling underwear. There's going to be so much eye candy you'll get sick! Heck, maybe you can even find you a cute guy to have some fun with.”

"Please," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

April laughed and glanced down at her watch. "Come, let’s go. The models are going to start pouring in here in the next fifteen minutes. We need to have our butts glued to our chairs ten minutes before."

"Alright, alright!" I conceded, grabbing one of Christine's notebooks off her desk. "I'm coming."

* * *

B
y the time
we got to the auditioning room, I was at least somewhat versed on how to judge the models.

Of course I can pick who I think has the best body, but I was told to give preference to those that were in a particular age bracket and had an
edgy
look. They had to be fit, but not overly muscular.

The auditioning room was large, with brick walls and clothing racks lining the perimeters. A table, where the judges were sitting, was at the back of the room, and a large platform where the models would be standing was erected in front of it.

April and I made our way to the table. I quickly greeted Gabe and my co-workers and then sat down beside April in the middle seat. After a moment of discussion, the auditions began.

"Bring them on in," April called, clapping her hands together.

"Oh, I so can't wait for this," Gabe said excitedly, wiggling in his seat.

Oh god
, I thought. Gabe was going to have a fucking field day with this.

On April's command, one of the waiting interns opened the doors and a line of men wearing just white underwear flowed into the room.

Though I'd seen men in their underwear before, I couldn't keep from blushing at all the bared flesh before me. And bulges. So. Many. Bulges.

Just keep repeating to yourself they're all gay,
I told myself.
So you don't get any ideas to procreate.

It was hard, though, with so much temptation in front of me. This type of job definitely was
not
for me. And if I was having trouble focusing, Gabe definitely shouldn’t be here.

Chiseled jaws, chiseled thighs, chiseled abs everywhere. Perfect, white smiles. Almost too perfect.

April smiled at the first round of men that lined the platform. "Thank you all for coming. The wonderful Mrs. Christine Finnerman couldn't be here today, so her right hand assistant, Victoria, will be sitting in her place helping us judge. You all will be judged by certain criteria that Christine is looking for right now. If you’re a good fit, you'll be called back in. If you don't hear back from us . . . well, you can always try again next time. Christine is always changing what she’s looking for, so don’t get discouraged if you’re not chosen.” April looked around at all the young, half-naked men. "Any questions?"

Most of the them shook their heads.

April smiled wider. "Alright, let's begin. First man up! Please state your name before walking down the runway."

"Aubrey."

Aubrey was a skinny blonde guy, with high cheekbones, blue eyes, and an average package . . . though we weren't supposed to be judging bulge sizes. Besides that, he certainly fit the bill, but I wasn't too impressed by him.

Aubrey walked down the platform onto the runway with an awkward gait, his expression stoic and lifeless. He posed for a moment and then walked toward the judges, turned, and then made his way back onto the platform.

April scribbled something on her notebook and I wondered if I should be doing the same.

"He's too skinny," Gabe whispered. "Even by industry standards."

"Well?" April pressed me. "We don't have all day, Vicky. You gotta be quick."

"I wasn't impressed," I admitted finally, feeling sick to my stomach.

April nodded and then turned to beam happily at the young man. "Thank you for coming, Aubrey. You'll hear back from us if you’re selected.” I watched her cross the young man's name off the list as he walked off.

"Don't worry about it, honey," Gabe whispered to me, seeing the trepidation on my face. "That guy will find work with one designer or the other. And stop worrying about judging these dudes. They got into modeling to be judged on their looks and bodies, and if they can’t handle it, they don’t need to be in this business."

Gabe's words did little to ease me of my anxiety as the next guy stepped up.

"Jake."

Jake was tall and auburn-haired with a masculine jawline and a toned body. I had to admit that I liked what I saw.

He walked down the walkway with a smile, winking at the judge table before walking back. Even his butt was cute.

"He's a keeper," Gabe whispered immediately.

In thought, April chewed her pen for a second and turned to me. "What do you think?"

"I'm with Gabe, but are we supposed to sit here and discuss them all or can we just scribble down our thoughts and move this along?”

April stared at me for a moment before shaking her head. “Just trying to get you used to it all, honey.” She turned her head to Jake. “Thank you, Jake.” She smiled at the handsome man. "Next!"

I sat through the next wave of models, trying to be the best judge I could be. I hated every time I had to be truthful and vote against a candidate, but over time my anxiety waned just a bit. I realized that I had a long way to go before I could even aspire to be in a position similar to Christine.

An hour later, and we’d dwindled the room down to just a dozen or so remaining. The eye candy was nice and all, but I’d had enough. I was ready to go.

After another contestant left, I took a sip of the bottled water I had in front of me and lowered my head to check my notes while the next guy stepped up and announced his name.

"Tyler."

My head snapped up fast at the deep, familiar baritone. I
knew
that voice. But it can’t be, can it?

What in the hell?

There, standing on the platform like he owned it and making the other men around him look like little boys, was Tyler in all of his masculine glory, a cocky grin on his face and that mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

How the hell did I miss him?

I froze, staring at Tyler, who was looking at me with that grin that I’d found so hard to resist. My whole body was trembling.

April seemed to still have her wits about her. “What are you doing here, Mr. Locklin?" she demanded.

Tyler kept his eyes on me. "What do you mean? I'm here to model underwear . . . like everyone else."

April scowled. "Really? All you’re doing is disrespecting the judges and all the models here, wasting everyone’s time.”

Tyler shrugged. "I had to do what I had to do.”

April glanced at me, noting that I was frozen in place but trembling. "Well, it's obvious that she doesn't want to talk to you. I think you’ve done enough."

“Speak for yourself, honey,” Gabe interjected. “He can disrespect me all he wants, whenever he wants,” Gabe said, admiring Tyler's incredible body.

"Shut up, Gabe!" April snapped. She turned her eyes back on Tyler, her expression stony. “Please leave, Tyler.” April said coldly. “We need to finish this up.”

Tyler didn't respond, and instead made his way toward the judges’ table. By this time, my heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe.

"Victoria," Tyler pleaded. "Please talk to me. I can explain what happened that night you walked in on me and Candice. If you let me." He reached out his hand to me when I didn’t respond. “Come on,” he urged, nodding toward the exit. “We can go out into the waiting room and talk."

I stared at his hand like it was poisonous, dueling emotions roiling through my body like a tidal wave.

“Tyler, don’t make me have to call security,” April commanded.

Tyler ignored her, pleading with those beautiful eyes of his. “Please, Victoria. All I’m asking for is a chance to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, to hell with this,” Gabe chipped in. “Vicky, you best take your cute little ass out there and hear him out! The man is making a fool of himself just to talk to you.”

Gabe’s words had a slight effect on me as I stared into Tyler’s handsome face.

Maybe I should hear him out
.
I mean, Gabe might be right. Why would Tyler go through all this trouble to see me after all this time unless he cares for me?

I almost did it. I almost reached out and took his hand.

"I'm calling security," April growled, taking my silence as proof that I was mortified and didn’t want to talk to him.

"Don't!" I jumped to my feet, grabbed my water bottle and dashed the rest of the contents into Tyler's face. "Go fuck yourself!" I yelled.