Razor: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance(67)

"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 f*cked 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 f*ck '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 f*cking 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 f*cking way. This had to be one huge conspiracy by my lesser peers to f*ck 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."



* * *



"You 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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 * whenever and however I wanted?

“Listen to yourself!” I continued. “If you had any balls, you would tell them to go f*ck 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 f*cking 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 *s 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.”