My Dark Romeo: The Unputdownable Billionaire Romance
Chapter 40

I strode through Costa Industries’ lobby, carrying a stack of documents. At almost midnight, I was in no hurry to return to my personal agent of chaos.

The building was dead, save for my father, whom, ironically, I wished was dead.

I barged into his corner office.

“It is common courtesy to knock before walking into someone’s place.”

I invited myself to the seat in front of him. “It is common courtesy not to fuck your son’s live-in fiancée.”

Senior’s mouth drew in a flat, dissatisfied line.

I would never stop reminding him he was in no position to lecture me about conduct. Not after I’d walked into my penthouse to replace my father eating my fiancée’s pussy for lunch.

She’d sprawled spread-eagle on our dining table, still in the Louboutins I’d gifted her for Christmas. As for Senior, he continued licking his own cum out of her.

I kicked Morgan out in her birthday suit, despite the fact that it was mid-December and colder than some chambers of my heart.

Enjoyed a whisky from my balcony as she did the walk of shame in nothing more than her heels before a cop car collected her.

Afterward, Senior and I struck a deal. I agreed not to narc to Monica that he cheated on her—again. In turn, he made me the youngest CFO in Costa Industries’ history.

At twenty-four, I handled billions in contracts. I did a fine job, but the master plan was always to reduce everything Senior loved to nothing but cinders.

He wanted heirs.

So, I gave him none.

He loved his company more than the oxygen he consumed.

So, I vowed to destroy the company, liquidate it, and burn the money, if need be, just to see the pain in his face before he croaked.

Morgan represented my one and only attempt at normalcy.

And my father annihilated this effort.

Senior pushed back in his seat. “Are you going to hold this over my head for eternity?”

His hands shook.

Lately, they always did.

I yawned. “You didn’t dent my car. You fucked my fiancée.”

His forehead creased like a crumpled napkin. “You haven’t used profanity in years. You’re changing.”

I was tired of people telling me how much I’d changed since Shortbread waltzed into my life. As it was, even in the midst of conversation, my thoughts wandered to Dallas.

Where else? I’d shown little interest in world affairs since my dick found out my wife’s pussy was its favorite location.

I boomeranged the documents on his desk. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

“Licht Holdings went public this morning.”

“Thanks for yesterday’s newsflash.” I rifled through the paper, hunting for a particular one. “I haven’t been able to sit down with Thomas Reynolds.” Mainly because I was busy breaking up a house party and attending to the important task of fucking Dallas’s pretty mouth. “But I spoke to him on the phone last night. He confirmed the DOD is leaning toward not renewing the contract with us.”

My father rubbed his cheek as if my words had slapped him. “Did he say why?”

“Our tech is dated compared with Licht’s.” I found what I was searching for—a list of weapons and artillery Licht Holdings manufactured for a fraction of our retail price—and slid it his way. “Not to mention, they’re simply more affordable. They manufacture in the South, while you stayed in New England, where minimum wage is much higher. They also struck some lucrative deals with steel and chip companies.”

Senior shoved the document back to me like a toddler refusing new food. “I don’t want to see this. I want you to come up with solutions.”

“Make me CEO and I will.”

“Do it. Then I’ll make you CEO.”

Senior once enjoyed a youthful, handsome face. When Licht Holdings entered the picture, I’d deliberately failed to stop them.

In the years since, he’d sprouted grays, wrinkles, and dark circles. Truth was, he loved Costa Industries enough to bow out and watch me save it.

It was his legacy.

The only thing his good-for-nothing father (see a theme here?) had left him.

“Look.” He tossed his arms up. “It’s no secret I’m no longer cut out for this. I’ve wanted to retire for a year now. The only reason Bruce is even in the running to take my place is because I cannot completely trust you not to do something deranged to get back at me.”

He’d hit the nail on the head, then rammed it through a twenty-inch wall.

But I’d hardly ever admit it.

“You think too highly of yourself. I want the CEO position because I deserve it. And because no one would take care of this company as well as I would. I am the heir apparent.”

“Also, apparently a vindictive asshole.” He raked his silver hair. “I’ve seen what you’ve done to poor Madison Licht for doing much less than I did to you.”

“Madison Licht is not poor, and the extent of what he did to me you will never know.”

“Even so, relieve us of the Licht problem, and I’ll give you the CEO position. One last hoop to jump through. Promise.”

I remained silent.

So long, in fact, he jerked his leg under the desk.

“I will need this in writing.”

He nodded. “I’m happy to sign.”

“My lawyers will be in contact with yours.” I collected my documents, happy to get as far away from him as possible.

“You should thank me, you know.”

Because clearly, being an accomplished waste of natural resources simply wasn’t cutting it, he had to be delusional about it, too.

“Which part?” I feigned interest. “The crappy upbringing or the bit where you ruined my one and only semi-normal relationship?”

Though it had to be said—Morgan bore responsibility, too.

No one forced her to open her legs to my father.

“The part where Morgan clearly wasn’t the woman you’re destined to marry, just as I warned you. In the few months you’ve known your wife, you’ve escaped your shell, lived a little, used your potty mouth again.”

“Yes, Dallas deserves a Pulitzer for driving me to sacrilege.”

“Point is, you found someone better.”

“You’ve taken a liking to her, haven’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Last time that happened, you acted on your feelings.” I stood. “There won’t be a second time, Father. If you get anywhere near Dallas, I’ll kill you with my own hands. Make it extra messy, too.”

His smile faltered. “Why do you think I’d make the same mistake twice?”

I towered over him. “Because you can’t help yourself. From the moment I was born, you wanted everything I had. And me? I’ve only wanted one thing you own—your title.”