“What are you talking about?”
“Before you came around, Tyler was on the verge of losing his position due to his . . . uncouth behavior. He’d slept with so many women that I’m sure he lost count. His dalliances were costing us, and when confronted about it, he refused to stop—which is why we were going to vote to remove him. Then you show up, and suddenly he says he’ll clean up his act.”
I glared. “So what are you saying? He’s just playing me?”
Charlie nodded. “Like a fiddle.”
“I think I’ve heard about enough of this,” I hissed. “I’ve let you waste enough of my time.” I rose from my seat, my latte still untouched.
“A word of caution, Miss Young,” Charles said, giving me pause. “Keep messing with Tyler, and you’ll likely find yourself without a job.” He looked me up and down critically. “And after everyone finds out you were Tyler’s little whore, you’ll only find work on the street corner with the looks you have.”
His words were more than I could take. Without thinking, I grabbed the latte and splashed it all over his suit.
“Fuck you, asshole!” I growled.
Cutting my eyes, I turned and walked out, leaving him sputtering.
Charles
I wiped the whipped cream off with a napkin and cracked a smile. There was fire in that one. I could see why Tyler was intrigued with her.
My intuition told me this one wasn't quite the same; she seemed more high class. Maybe that’s why Tyler was seeing her long-term—she represented a challenge.
Whatever the case, my mission was accomplished. I’d planted the seed in her mind, and her fears and insecurities would do the rest.
“Is everything alright, sir?” a light voice asked. I turned to see a waitress staring at me.
“I’m fine." I give her a smile and she smiled back.
“Why did that lady throw her latte on you?” she had to ask.
“Her boyfriend left her and she’s having a mental breakdown.”
“Oh that sucks. She didn’t have to take it out on you, though.”
I shook my head. “Nope, she didn’t. So . . . what’s your name?”
Chapter 9
Victoria
“We’re going to meet my father,” Tyler said to me.
We were riding in his limo, because Tyler had begun giving me rides to and from work in the lap of luxury. I was looking forward to going back to Tyler’s place and relaxing. That dream was shattered, however, once I got in the car.
He informed me that his father wanted to meet me. Since Tyler had agreed to clean up his act, his father wanted to meet me.
I was fine with it, but I now had doubts. Warnings from Tyler’s butler—and now, Charles Whitmore—had me on edge. I hadn’t spoken to Tyler about either one of them . . . yet.
“Do we have to?” I asked. “I’m kinda tired.”
Tyler shook his head. “It’ll only take a minute. He just wants to meet you and find out a little about you.”
I groaned.
Tyler placed a hand on my leg and I felt sparks through his fingertips. “Please, baby?” he asked me. “For me?”
I was shocked. I’d never heard him say please to anyone. And he topped it off with baby. I had to admit, I liked it.
“Say that again,” I urged him.
“What?”
“Baby.”
He leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips. “Please, baby.”
I decided then that I’d do anything he asked. “All right,” I said. “Whatever you want.”
* * *
When Tyler and I walked into the Locklin mansion, my jaw dropped . . . and it wasn’t because of the opulence of the place.
There, standing in the foyer with who I assumed was Tyler’s father, was my mother, decked in expensive jewelry and an evening gown that probably cost a fortune, a wine glass in her hand.
“Victoria?” my mother exclaimed with some surprise.
“Mom?” I asked in disbelief.
The man at her side grinned. He was dressed in a suit that looked even more expensive than the one Tyler wore. “Who is this pretty young lady?”
My mother regained her composure. “James, this is Victoria, my daughter.”
James walked forward and grabbed my hand. “You have your mother’s beauty,” he said to me.
I glanced at Tyler as a strange feeling washed over me. Something about this was all wrong. I knew this was too good to be true.
“Thank you,” I replied, a slight blush coming to my cheeks. “You’re too kind.”
Tyler was the first to figure it out. “Wait a minute,” he said. He looked at my mother, then back at me, his eyes going wide. “If this is your daughter, then that means I’m Victoria’s . . .”