"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.
* * *
Tyler
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.”