Razor: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (23 page)

"Do you do this often?" I asked before we got down to business. I was intrigued by Victoria and wanted to know more about her.

Victoria shook her head. "Only when I'm called to, which is rarely. This wedding demanded a lot of fittings, so Christine sent a small army to help out." She shook her head. "But I didn't expect that I'd end up fitting you."

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Well, for one, I hear that you’re some big shot.”

I nodded. I'm not very humble, so I wasn’t going to act like I was. “I’m the co-founder, along with my father."

Victoria fingered the measuring tape. "That's amazing. You look young. How old are—"

"Twenty-five," I replied.

She shook her head. "I'm just twenty-two. I couldn't fathom accomplishing what you have at that age.”

"I did have a lot of help from my father," I admitted. "From a young age, he's groomed me in business and economics. But I've grown into my own man now."

"I see." After a moment of awkward silence, Victoria cleared her throat and said, "I'm going to need you to take your shirt off."

I was happy to oblige. I slowly unbuttoned my dress shirt, staring at Victoria all the while. I slipped it off my shoulders and tossed it on the bench, my washboard abs proudly on display.

Victoria stared at the muscles etched across my stomach for a moment, and I didn't miss the flash of admiration in her eyes before she stepped forward with the measuring tape. I tried not to smile as I noted her trembling hands.

"Can you raise your arms above your head?" she asked. Even her voice had a slight tremor in it.

I did as she asked and she moved in close, wrapping the tape around my torso. I peered down as she worked, noting the fullness of her hair. Up close, I could smell the fragrance she had on, a pleasant peach-like scent that reminded me of a fresh summer day.

"You have a nice, slim waist," she said quietly with admiration as she worked. I liked when her hands brushed across my skin. They felt soft and pleasant. "But broad shoulders. Are you a swimmer?"

"I work out a lot and jog," I replied. "At least five times a week."

"I can see that," she said after she'd moved up and down my torso three times. She moved back over to the bench and picked up her clipboard, scribbling something down. Then she turned back around to face me, biting her lower lip.

"What?" I ask when she just stood there looking nervous.

"Uh, I could get a more accurate measurement if you take off your pants," she finally blurted out. "But it's totally up to you . . . and leave your underwear on," she amended quickly when I begin to tug at my dress pants.

I grinned at her and dropped my trousers to the floor. Now I was in nothing but my boxers with a cute girl staring at my junk.

"T-T-This will only take a moment," she stammered, her eyes flitting away from my crotch area. I had to grin. I was so enjoying this.

She approached me slowly and then bent over slightly to wrap the measuring tape around my inner thigh. Her hands were inches away from my junk and it was an effort not to pop wood right in her face.

"Even your thighs are muscular," she muttered in awe.

"Wouldn't it be better if you got on your knees?" I asked her when she appeared to be having trouble getting her measurement.

She paused as if shocked by my suggestion. "I'm good," she replied shortly.

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

"I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

I shifted on my feet, my cock and balls coming dangerously close to touching her hand. "I know what will help you relax."

She peered up at me. "What?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you have nice, dick-sucking lips?” I asked. I had no idea where the hell that came from. Of course I was thinking it, but I didn't exactly mean to blurt it out.

Victoria straightened all the way. "Excuse me?" Her voice, which had been soft, was now hard and filled with hostility.

I stood there for a moment, not sure if I should try to lie my way out of my flub. Fuck it. Might as well roll with it.

"You have nice lips," I compliment. "They’d look good wrapped around my dick.”

"Fuck you!"

The smack of flesh was loud, but I barely felt it as my head snapped slightly to the side.

Victoria didn't wait around for my response. Scrambling quickly, she gathered her stuff and then ran out of the dressing room.

H
e's a pig
.
A freaking handsome pig, but a pig nonetheless. What's worse is that I couldn’t stop thinking about him or his amazing body. I could still see his chiseled frame in front of my eyes.

And I didn't want to think about how good looking he was, with his strong jawline that looked sharp enough to cut glass and his incredible, deep-set blue eyes that made me want to swim in them. And the way his lips curled up into that playful grin that said he was a mischievous bastard?
Shit.

And I can’t forget his scent. My God, what it did to me. When I was up close on him, all I could smell was pure masculinity. The scent had been like a powerful aphrodisiac. It made me dizzy with lust.

What made me even more mad at myself is that I’d wanted, more than anything, to see what lay underneath his boxers. If the bulge that he sported had been any indication, then Mr. Tyler Locklin was carrying around a monster.

I was pissed at myself for being attracted to him. I'd never had a guy talk so boldly like that to me before, and by default, I shouldn't be having sinful thoughts about him. But being enclosed with him inside that small dressing room made me weak in the knees.

Inside, he'd radiated a cool confidence and power that overwhelmed my senses. And when I saw him drop his dress pants . . .

I angrily pushed the lustful thoughts away and tried to get as far away from the dressing room as possible.

It was only after I was in the middle of the hall that I realized what I'd done. I slapped Tyler Locklin. It wouldn't be so bad—he'd definitely been asking for it—if he wasn't some powerful executive that happened to be paying my boss an obscene amount of money to outfit an entire wedding!

There’s no way I'm going back to apologize
, I told myself.
He totally deserved it.

I suddenly jumped at April's voice. "Did you get Mr. Locklin's measurements?"

I turned around and saw April holding a pile of things in her arms. "For the most part," I said.

April gawked at me. "What the hell do you mean?"

"Look, I couldn't help it. The guy is a total asshole!"

April glanced at the dressing room Tyler and I were in. "What are you talking about? It seemed like you two were friends?"

I scowled. "I don't know him. It's just some crap he made up. He's just some arrogant, rich prick." I shook my head angrily. "I can totally see why Christine said he was going to lose his job.”

"Hey Ladies," Tyler broke in. He'd snuck up on us. I would never admit it, but I loved the deep, rich timbre of his voice. It was so sexy . . .

"How's everything going?" His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at me as if the dressing room fiasco had never happened. He didn't appear to be mad that I’d slapped him, which was a relief, because I feared that he'd go back and tell Christine.

"It's going well. We almost have everyone's measurements and are just waiting for the last few stragglers to show up." April looked at me uncertainly, then back at Tyler, unsure what to think. "Everything went well with your measuring, I hope?"

Tyler nodded, his eyes still on me. I had to look away. His gaze was so hot that it made me feel like I'd catch fire. "Victoria is very good with her hands."

I was speechless at Tyler's audacity.

April beamed. "That's wonderful!"

"Yep. We had so much fun catching up on our past that she’s meeting me at Roxy's at eight tomorrow night."

This time I nearly choked on my surprise, and Tyler only smiled wider at my reaction.

"Wow." April tossed me an envious gaze, seemingly not noticing that my mouth was open so wide that an elephant could jump through it. Then she gestured at a group of workers nearby. "Can I show you what Christine has planned before we leave?"

"Certainly." Tyler turned to me and tossed me a playful wink. "Catch you later, Victoria." He walked off with April, leaving me standing there in disbelief.

Did he really think I was going to show up at Roxy's tomorrow?

"Who the hell was that!" I heard Gabe exclaim behind me.

I swirled around to see him staring in Tyler's direction.

"That," I said, "Is Tyler Locklin. A rich, misogynistic pig." Gabe stared at me. "Why do you say that?"

I proceeded to tell Gabe what happened in the dressing room, making sure to leave out my extreme attraction to him.

"That's all he said?" Gabe asked. "And you're pissed off about that? Girl, you should've told him to whip it out!"

I rolled my eyes. I should’ve known better than to expect sympathy from Gabe. "Not a chance."

Gabe turned his eyes back on Tyler. "I wish he'd say that to me. Damn, he's hot AND rich; doesn't get any better."

"Gabe!" I protested.

"What? It's the truth!"

"He asked me out," I said a second later.

Gabe turned on me, wide-eyed. "He did?"

I nodded. "But I don't think I'm going to go. Not after how he treated me."

Gabe scowled at me. "Are you crazy? You'd better go. He's a wealthy man. Think about it for a second.”

It will never be serious anyway,
I thought to myself.
Because he's obviously a womanizing pig.

I decided that I was wasting my time. Gabe would never see from my point of view. "I've got to finish up my tasks before we pack up," I said.

I walked off before he could offer a protest, and tried to push images of Tyler’s chiseled torso and large bulge from my mind.

I
stepped
into my dad's office and gently shut the door behind me. "You rang?"

Dressed in one of his tailor made business suits, my dad was standing before his office window with a glass in his hand and the other stuffed in his pocket. He turned around, and I didn't miss the spark of rage that flashed in his eyes.

This would be a good meeting.

"Where were you today?" He asked quietly. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was super fucking pissed. Exactly what I wanted.

I eased into the office, stopping near his desk. "I was at the Promade, getting fitted."

Dad frowned. "Getting fitted? What the hell for?"

"You know Brad? Well, he's getting married to the love of his life, except he couldn't afford to pay for the wedding his fiancée wanted. So I offered to fund all of it, including tailor made suits and dresses made by Christine Finnerman."

My father’s lips curled up in contempt. "You took off an important day for something that could be done at any time?"

"Not any time. I'd scheduled fittings for two days. It was either today or tomorrow. I chose today." I shrugged my shoulders.

The veins stood out on his neck. He was boiling. "We had a meeting today. Charles Whitmore spoke."

I nodded. "I'm aware of that. In fact, it was the reason I took off. I can't tolerate two seconds of that blowhard."

My father gripped his glass so hard I thought it might break. "His presentation involved some important revelations about our company!”

“And your point is?”

“That you’re being a difficult son of a bitch.” My dad stopped himself and closed his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and then slowly let it out. When he reopened his eyes, they were more focused. “Tyler, there’s going to be a vote,” he said quietly.

“On?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

“Your removal.”

I knew the words were coming, but it hit me like a punch in the gut. It was my turn to get pissed. “Do you really want to do this, Dad?” I asked. “Because this can get really messy.”

He stared at me unblinking, unperturbed by my threat. “I’m sorry, son . . . but you leave me no other choice. Your cavalier attitude about the company and your contempt for the rules have shown that you’re unfit.”

I snorted with disgust. “And Charles Whitmore is?” He opened his mouth to reply, but I interrupted. “You know what? Don’t even bother. If you try to remove me, I’ll make sure to make your life a living hell.”

My words didn't produce a visible reaction, but I knew he was simmering with anger.

“See you in the boardroom,” I said.

Then I turned and walked out.

I
t was an hour until eight
. I was at home in my small apartment, which cost an overpriced arm and a leg. I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror, arguing with myself. I couldn't decide if I was going to go to meet Tyler or not. I'd had a particularly stressful day at work with Christine sending me all over the building for menial tasks.

I'd pissed her off because I spilled her morning coffee all over her cashmere sweater. I thought for sure I was fired in that moment, and I'm sure she was tempted, but she probably figured it would be more fun to continue torturing and humiliating me.

With the stress of the day still weighing on my shoulders, I felt like I needed a release.

But that wasn’t the real reason why I was so conflicted. Images of Tyler’s rippling abs and muscular body continued to torment me, filling me with a burning lust that was both startling and exciting.

During my high school and college years, I’d had a couple of boyfriends, but nothing that ever amounted to anything. Most of the relationships had ended in heartache.

And none of my boyfriends had the ridiculous confidence—and overpowering arrogance—that Tyler did. Arrogance that should have repelled me from him, but instead drew me to him like a moth to a flame.

He’s rich, powerful and handsome
, I told myself.
And he wants me to go on a date with him. What harm can come from it? It’s not like he’s asking me to marry him, and it’s likely he’s just looking to have a little fun. After all the stress I’ve been going through working for Christine, shouldn’t I have a little playtime for myself?