Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I stare at my mom’s steady face. My eyes move to my dad’s face. His expression is blank, giving me nothing.

“Is this a joke?”

“No,” my mother says softly. It’s the voice she used when I was younger and I was upset, and she was trying to soothe me.

The pacifying voice.

I used to love that voice. Now, I officially hate it.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Language, Wilder,” my mom chastises.

Like now is the time to quibble over my use of the English language.

My wide eyes go to my dad. “Am I not getting the job?”

I see a flash of dismay in his eyes. “Of course you are,” my dad says, his tone resolute. “The job is yours, Wild. Without a doubt. Your mom just thought—”

“We both think”—my mom flashes a stern look at my dad—“that you could do with the support that having a co-CEO would offer. It’s a lot of work, running a business of this size.”

“I know. And I’m fully equipped and ready to do so. That’s what you’ve been training me to do for the past seven years. Jesus, I’ve been working toward this ever since I started coming in with you both when I was a kid. I know this business inside and out! No one knows the lingerie business better than I do.” I’m getting louder and louder, but I can’t help it.

A co-CEO. A motherfucking co-CEO!

“Wilder, we know how experienced and knowledgeable you are. It’s not about that. Your dad and I have successfully run this company together. Lots of companies nowadays have co-CEOs. There are a lot of benefits in having a partner to run the company with.”

I want to have an actual honest-to-God tantrum. Throw my toys out of my crib. Yell at them that they’re wrong. That I could run this company with one arm tied behind my back while blindfolded. I want to pull the how-could-you-do-this-to-your-own-kid card. It might work on my dad, but I know it wouldn’t work on my mom. She’s a tough cookie. My throwing a hissy fit would only reinforce to them that they made the right decision to hire this new person to come and work here with me.

No, what I have to do is be mature about this.

Tell them that I’m dismayed that they did this. Not pissed. Dismayed. Especially because they went about it all covertly and behind my back.

But I’ll make sure to work with this new co-fucking-CEO asshole and be nice as pie.

And, in reality, I’ll be looking for a way to get rid of this job-stealing asshole while proving that I’m more than capable of running the company alone. My company.

I take a calming deep breath and place my hands, palms down, on my desk. “Well, I can’t say that I’m happy about this turn of events because I’m not. But it’s your company, and you’re free to do as you please with it. Yes, I’m your son—your only child—and heir. But you raised me right, and I’ll go along with whatever you think is best for the company.” Okay, so I’m laying it on a little thick, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, and guilt is the only card I have to play here.

“Wilder, I know you’re thinking that we made this decision to bring someone else in because we think you can’t run the company alone. But that’s not the case.”

“I’m not thinking that at all. I know I’m more than capable of running the company alone.” My surly words echo my thoughts.

Okay, so my attempt to guilt trip them didn’t last very long, and that smart comment is definitely not going to help my cause, but I just couldn’t help it.

At my tenacity, I see a small smile touch my dad’s lips, which tells me this was more my mother’s idea than his. That gives me a boost, knowing that he’s not one hundred percent on board with this, so he’ll be easier to sway when the time comes.

“Of course you are, Wilder. But what’s made this company so successful is the male-female dynamic from your father and me.”

“So, from that, should I take it that you’ve hired a woman?”

“Yes. We’ve hired a female co-CEO to help you run the company. I love you, Wilder. You’re my son. You’re incredibly bright and talented. But, when it comes to women, you don’t have a clue. You don’t understand their wants and needs.”

I’m mortally offended by this. I know women’s needs very well, but it’s not like I can vocalize this to my mom. I mean, no guy wants to share his sexual expertise with his mother.

My brow goes up. “That’s a very sexist thing for you to say, Mom.”

My dad smothers a laugh.

My mom throws an annoyed glance at my dad and then looks back at me, her brows furrowed in annoyance. “I meant that you don’t understand their wants and needs when it comes to the actual items. That can only come from being a woman. And having both a male and female viewpoint helps enormously with the business we’re in. My view comes from a woman’s perspective—of actually wearing and understanding the product, the issues of materials and comfort as well as the look. Your father’s perspective is in sales and focused on branding. Together, we’ve been a formidable team. I want that for you.”

“I’m not marrying this chick.”

“Of course not!” My mother’s laugh tinkles around the room.

“Your mother just wants you to have a counterbalance, Wilder,” my dad says.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“Because we weren’t sure that we were going to find the right person to fit the role.”

“And, now, you have?”

“Yes.”

“Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if you hadn’t found the right woman for the job?”

My mother’s shoulders lift. “We would have crossed that bridge when we came to it.”

I know my parents love me, but this sure does feel a lot like betrayal, and it tastes bitter as fuck.

“We’re not doing this to hurt you, Wilder. You know we’ve only ever had your best interests at heart.”

“Mmhmm.” I fold my arms over my chest. “And how long will I be co-CEOing for?”

My mom’s brows draw together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how long will I have to share my job for?”

My parents glance at each other and then back at me.

“Well, we’re not sure…exactly,” my mom answers.

“So, that means, I will one day have the company to run alone?”

My mother looks at my father again. But he’s looking at me.

“Yes,” he says decisively. “Wilder, you know the company will be yours when your mother and I are gone. And you can do as you choose with it then.”

“Well, I’m hoping you don’t go anytime soon, and I’d quite like to run the business solo well before then.”

“Let’s put a pin in this for now.” My mother claps her hands together, ending the conversation.

Put a pin in it? Jesus fucking Christ. We’re talking about my life here, and my mom wants to stick a pin in it.

But I know that pushing the issue right now will get me nowhere. I need to tackle this again—and soon—but at this moment in time, I need to deal with the crap they’ve just dropped in my lap.

“So, when do I get to meet this mystery woman?” Who’s stealing half of my company.

Okay, she’s not actually stealing it, but she’s definitely stealing half of my job.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I echo.

“Yes, she’s coming in first thing tomorrow morning to meet with you. And then, afterward, in the weekly meeting, we’ll formally announce her new role along with your step up as co-CEOs.”

Co-CEO. The word makes me want to vomit.

If I didn’t love my parents, I would legit strangle them right now. With my bare hands.

A day. I’ve got a motherfucking day to get my head around this…this curveball that they’ve thrown at me.

“I know you’re worried about this, Wilder, but Morgan is great, and you do actually already know her,” my mom says.

That brings my head up. “I know her?”

Please God don’t let it be someone I slept with. Not that I do much sleeping with the women I have sex with. I’m not one to hang around after the deed is done.

“Morgan told us that you went to Northwestern together,” my dad says.

Morgan. Northwestern. Went together.

This isn’t sounding good.

And knowing my fuck rate at Northwestern, my odds of not having screwed this chick are diminishing by the second.

I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “What’s her surname?”

“Stickford,” Mom says. “Morgan Stickford.”

Ah, hell.

Morgan Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Ford.

Relief and dismay sweep through me in equal measure.

Relief because I definitely didn’t sleep with her in college.

Dismay because she hated me in college.

Which was a shame because she was a pretty thing. Well, her face was, which was always on show—as her hair was habitually tied back into a ponytail—unlike her body, which was always covered up with ugly-ass big sweaters.

And she was so damn serious all the time. Hence the nickname Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Ford.

She never went to parties. She spent all her time either in the library or with her nose stuck up the professors’ asses.

I never once heard of her socializing or saw her with any friends. She was a stuck-up bitch who thought that she was better than everyone else. Me included.

Morgan Stickford took an instant dislike to me from the word go without even bothering to get to know me.

She came to the conclusion that I was an overprivileged, womanizing man-whore.

Okay, so I did have certain privileges growing up because of my parents’ success, and, yes, I had a job to walk straight into out of college, but believe me, my parents made me work for it. Nothing has ever been handed to me. I’ve earned everything I have.

And, sure, I liked ass. I still do. But, back then, I was young and horny. Hot college girls were everywhere, and I made sure to screw almost all of them.

Except for her.

Because she took one look at me and thought she had me pegged. When, in actuality, she knew fuck all about me.

Did it annoy the shit out of me? Sure, it did. But I wasn’t going to lose sleep over a stuck-up bitch who went around and made snap judgments about people she barely knew.

But then that was nine years ago. A lot can change in nine years. Maybe Morgan Stickford has changed.

Well, I hope to fuck she has because, for the short-term—until I get rid of her—I’m stuck with sharing my company with her.