Even though I had a shitload of work to get through today, I couldn’t focus on anything after the nuclear bomb my parents had dropped on me.

So, I did what every other person in my position would do.

I stalked Morgan online.

I might have known her back in college—not that I really knew her that well—but I definitely don’t know Morgan now.

I don’t know what she’s been up to in the last nine years. Or if she’s still a massive bitch.

And do you know what I got for spending my day researching her?

Fuck. All.

She doesn’t have a Twitter or Instagram account. She does have a Facebook account—well, if it’s hers. I could only find one account for a Morgan Stickford in Chicago. But that was locked down tight—just like her legs had been in college—so I figured it had to be her.

After my unsuccessful Morgan stalking, I sent the boys an SOS text and asked them to meet me at Doyle’s. It’s an Irish pub that’s popular with the after-work crowd. I like it there. The feel is laid-back, and the food is great. Not that I feel like eating. But drinking? I definitely feel like drinking. That shows how stressed I am. I rarely drink during the week.

I push through the door into Doyle’s. I see Cooper’s already here, sitting at the bar, sipping on a beer.

Coop is my oldest friend. Even though I’m tight with Dom, Coop is my best friend. I’ve known him since high school. Went to Northwestern with me, which is where we met Dom. But Coop hadn’t needed to go to college. He’s richer than I am. I’m pretty sure he’s richer than God. He comes from old money.

I’m sure you’ve heard of Delaney’s. The big-ass supermarket chain.

Coop is the heir to Delaney’s. His great-grandpa started the business way back when, which he passed on to Coop’s grandpa. Coop’s mom was Grandpa Delaney’s only kid. And all she did was spend Grandpa Delaney’s money and get knocked up by Coop’s dad. Weird thing is, no one knows who Coop’s dad is. His mom has never said. To this day, Coop still doesn’t know. His mom’s a selfish bitch. She was hardly there while Coop was growing up; she was too busy traveling the world and finding the next man to marry. She’s been married eight times. I shit you not.

Grandpa Delaney raised Coop. Sadly, he died of lung cancer when Coop was sixteen. Coop didn’t take it well. He took it even worse when he found out that Grandpa Delaney had left him everything. He was sixteen and clueless. So, a CEO was brought in to run the company until Coop was ready to step into his rightful place.

He never has.

After he graduated college, he just bummed around for a bit. He still kind of does. He spends his days sleeping and his nights partying and screwing beautiful woman and getting his name in the gossip columns on a regular basis.

I think he’s capable of so much more. No, I know he’s capable of more. But I don’t push the issue. He’s my best friend, and it’s his decision how he chooses to run his life.

Unlike me. Apparently, I have no fucking say in what happens in my life.

“Hey, man.” I pat Coop on the back, taking the stool next to him.

“Hey. Your usual?” he asks me.

“Yep.”

He signals to the bartender and orders me a Corona.

“So, what’s up?” he asks.

“Everything.” My life. Morgan goddamn Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Ford.

I drag my hands down my face and let out a groan.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” I tell him.

The bartender puts my beer in front of me. I pick it up and down half of the bottle before putting it back down.

“Better?” Coop asks.

“Nope.” I slide a look at him. “Mom and Dad went behind my back and hired someone to come and work with me. A ‘co-CEO.’” I air-quote.

“Shit. You’re kidding.”

“Wish I were.” I sigh. “And it gets worse. The person they’ve hired to share my job with me is Morgan Stickford.”

“Morgan Stickford…” Coop’s brows draw together in thought.

“We went to Northwestern with her,” I say. “She always used to sit in the front row. Wore those baggy-ass sweaters all the time. I used to call her Morgan Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Ford.”

“Oh, yeah.” Coop clicks his fingers in recognition. “Curvy. Blonde hair.”

“That’s the one.”

“Fuck…she hated your guts in college, man.” Coop laughs as he picks up his beer and takes a drink. “Why was that?”

“I guess she thought I was a rich prick.”

“You are. But so am I. And she didn’t hate me.”

“Who didn’t hate you?” Dom drops into the stool next to Coop.

“Morgan Stickford,” Coop tells him. “You remember her from Northwestern?”

“God, yeah. Haven’t heard that name in a while though. I used to work shifts with her at Starbucks.”

Unlike Coop and me, Dom’s family wasn’t rich. He was at Northwestern on a scholarship. But he created this dating app after he graduated, and it went big. Really big.

“Did you?” I say to Dom. “How did I not know that?”

Dom shrugs. “She was a nice girl. Didn’t like you though, if I remember right.”

“She hated his guts,” Coop clarifies.

“Thanks for the reminder.” I grimace at him.

“I’ll have a draft beer,” Dom tells the bartender, who just approached. “Why are we talking about Morgan Stickford anyway?” he asks.

“Because Wild’s mom and dad just hired her to be the CEO at his company.”

“What?” Dom’s head swivels to me. “I thought you were getting the job.”

“I am. They are bringing her in as co-CEO. Apparently, they think I need a woman’s perspective to help me run the company, which is just fucking bullshit and a massive fucking insult.”

“Feel for you, man.” Dom pats my shoulder and then picks up the beer the bartender just put in front of him.

“What are you gonna do?” Coop asks me.

“Not much I can do.” I shrug. “Morgan’s coming in tomorrow, and the announcement will be made to the rest of the staff. Then, I have to share my company with her.”

God, I fucking hate my life right now.

And I know hate is a very strong word, so I won’t use it in reference to my parents, but I will say that I seriously, intensely do not like them right now.

“And that’s it?” Dom says. “You’re just gonna sit back and accept it.”

Coop laughs. “Come on, this is Wilder we’re talking about. No fucking way will he just roll over and take this. At least, not without a fight.”

“Oh, I intend to fight all right.” And I’ll fight as dirty as I need to. But I need to get my battle plan together, and I can’t do that until I meet with Morgan tomorrow and know what her deal is. “But, right now, I’m gonna have a drink with my buddies and maybe shoot some pool later. Who’s with me?”

“Always with you, man,” Coop says. “But I think we need something stronger than beer for this.” He signals the bartender. “Three shots of Jägermeister,” he tells him.

“No shots,” I tell Coop. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

I can’t be hungover when I meet Morgan. Especially not when I have to stand there during the big announcement of her new role in the company.

The thought alone makes me want to puke all over this bar.

“I don’t want a shot. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” Dom tells Coop.

“Stop being pussies, the pair of you. Just one shot won’t kill you.”

“Fine.” I sigh. “One shot, and that’s it.”

“Sure thing, man.” Coop grins.

The bartender pours out our drinks. “Enjoy.”

Coop picks up a glass and holds it out to us. “Let’s toast.”

“What the fuck do I have to toast about? How I just lost half of my company?”

“You didn’t lose half of your company, dickface.” Coop chuckles. “Morgan’s just taking half of your job.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” I deadpan.

“Why don’t we toast to Wilder finding a way to get rid of Morgan and get his job back?” Dom says.

“He hasn’t lost his job though. And wouldn’t that be more of a wish?”

“Are you two for real right now?” I stare at them both. “No toasts. And no fucking wishes. Let’s just drink, so I can try to forget about this shitty day and the even shittier day that I’m going to have tomorrow.” When Morgan Stickford comes into my office and invades it.

And, with that horrendous thought in mind, I pick up my shot and throw it back.