Anaconda: A Sexy Romantic Comedy

by Landish, Lauren

  "Fuck that." The idea appalled me. I'd been in a serious relationship before and it didn't turn out well. I'd worn my heart on my sleeve only to get fucked royally in the end when I caught her cheating on me. On me.

  After that, I'd decided that no girl was worthy of my love, and my new motto was to fuck 'em and then leave 'em.

  Jeff stared at me. "This isn't a game, Tyler. You need to seriously get it together or face losing your position in the company." He paused, smirking once again. "Charles Whitmore is looking to take your spot if you don’t shape up."

  I stared at him incredulously. "Is this a fucking joke?" It had to be. I couldn't imagine my father listening to such bullshit. Charles Whitmore, my nemesis at Armex, had swiftly risen through the ranks of the corporate world. Although pretty douche, he was only a few years older and a pretty shrewd businessman—as much as I hated to admit it.

  Still, there was no way he could fill my shoes. No fucking way. This had to be one huge conspiracy by my lesser peers to fuck with me.

  Jeff shook his head. "Nope. Not at all."

  "I don't believe this," I growled. "I'm going to talk to my father about it. I don't believe for one second that he'd ever go against me."

  Jeff leaned back in his chair and continued to grin at me, making me want to smash his face in. "You do that."

  * * *

  "You have become a liability to the company," my father said to me. I was standing at his desk in his swanky office within his three-story mansion, and I needed a strong drink to take in what I was hearing.

  I studied him with disbelief. My father's a big man, barrel-chested with greying hair, and a complete egomaniac. He was dressed in a business suit, his tie loosened and his blazer draped over the back of his chair.

  I thought Jeff was blowing hot air when he told me that my father was in compliance with this nonsense. To hear it from the horse's mouth enraged me.

  "Word of your . . .” my father paused, searching for the right word to describe my antics that had riled everyone up, “play has gotten around and is traveling around the corporate circles."

  I began to protest, but my father raised a stern finger to quiet me. "Ordinarily your behavior wouldn’t be a problem. You’re a grown man who’s free to do whatever you choose when it comes to your personal life. But, a large demographic of Armex customers hold family values in high regard. If you continue to . . . misbehave in public, then the board will vote to replace you.”

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

  “I founded this fucking company with you,” I growled as I stabbed a finger at the ground, anger burning my throat. “You can’t replace me.”

  My dad stared at me calmly. “Yes, you did. And despite your bad habits that you've developed over the years, you are a wonderful businessman—shrewd as they come. But in order for our company to survive, concessions must be made. Clean up your act—or else.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” I shouted, unable to control my anger any longer.

  He didn't answer, but he didn't have to. He was dead serious. He wanted to out me. His son. Me, who'd helped him build the company from the ground up. And for what? All because I scorned relationships and liked to get pussy whenever and however I wanted?

  “Listen to yourself!” I continued. “If you had any balls, you would tell them to go fuck themselves. I’m your son, for Christ’s sake! Armex wouldn’t be shit without me.”

  His jaw bulged and he gripped the edge of his desk, a sign that my words had gotten to him.

  “Charles Whitmore?” I demanded. “Charles fucking Whitmore?”

  “He’s shown himself to be an exemplary employee, and he wants to see this company to the next level . . .”

  Unlike you.

  His words trailed off, but I heard the unspoken meaning behind them.

  Clearing his throat, Dad stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “I’m sorry that you're angry, son. But this really shouldn't be a problem. The solution is simple. Stop with the public womanizing and keep your job.”

  “You let those assholes vote against me, and I’ll make sure you regret it.” The words left my lips before I could stop them.

  He paused for a moment, considering my words. Finally, he said, “Choose your battles carefully, son.” He shrugged on his coat. “I’m going to pick up Martha from the Bolingers’. They're planning a dinner party for an event later this month. If you haven’t dug yourself into a hole by then, I expect you to attend.” He walked from the room, leaving me standing there simmering with anger.

  Martha was his newlywed wife. I’d only met her twice, once at the wedding and another time at a family function. She was nice enough, I guess, but a woman who had no real assets to speak of. It was a mystery why my dad chose to marry her.

  “Oh, trust me, Dad,” I said to myself as I walked over to the cabinet behind his desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy along with a glass. I needed something to drink to calm the frustration that I felt. “I have every intention of fighting this battle.”

  Chapter 3

  Tyler

  "Your life is over," I said, smacking down a glass on the bar counter.

  Brad, my childhood best friend, peered over at me, his eyes bloodshot. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, while I was still dressed in my work clothes, black silk slacks and a white dress shirt. I usually dressed well when I went to clubs, flaunting the fact that I had money. "Why do you say that?

  We were sitting in a popular bar, you know, one of the trash dens that the company doesn't want to see me in. After my explosive blowout with Dad, Brad called me, saying that he was having relationship problems in the form of his fiancée practically forcing him to give her an official wedding date. To make matters worse, the wedding she wanted was going to cost a fortune and would temporarily bankrupt him.

  I'd told Brad that I would meet him and we could both talk about our problems.

  "If she’s already calling the shots now," I told him, "then what do you think it's going to be like when you're married?"

  Brad let out a groan and stared down into his glass with a forlorn expression. "Don't remind me, man. I'm already fucking stressed the hell out. I've only been working at the law firm for less than a year. How the fuck does she expect me to afford the kind of wedding that she wants?"

  "What does she want?"

  Brad made a sour face. "Everything. I mean, like, her family is huge. She has like ten sisters who must have a hundred little girls, and she wants every last one to be flower girls. She wants to rent out the Promade and have the wedding out on the lawn, complete with an orchestra, band and entertainment. Not to mention, she wants me to provide the clothing for all her immediate family."

  I let out a low whistle.

  "Tell me about it," Brad continued. "I don't know how Katie thinks we can afford it. I know I have a pretty good job, but damn, at least give on something. If it wasn’t for all our student loan debt, we could probably swing it.”

  I signaled the bartender for another drink—a slender girl dressed in a cut-off top that bared her midriff. She smiled at me and scurried off to the mixer. She wanted my dick, I was sure of it, but I wasn't interested. I usually didn't go for girls who had tattoos, even though I had a couple myself. It was just one of my hypocrisies.

  "Where does Katie work again?"

  “She’s a groomer. She loves animals." Brad laughed. "Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she'd want me to dress the damn dogs in tuxes too."

  "I feel your pain, brother," I said. I really didn't. Brad, I think, had fallen into a trap. After my one true relationship had failed, I'd lost belief in true love. Brad would wind up regretting getting married and getting stuck with kids, mark my words.

  Of course, I didn’t want to tell him what I really felt, because I thought it would only piss him off. He had too much invested in this Katie chick at this point, and I've learned it's better to let people make their own mistakes rather than try to dissuade t
hem.

  The bartender chick walked over and placed my drink down before me. I reached into my pocket to pay for it when she stopped me.

  "It's on the house, handsome," she purred at me with a wink and strutted away to serve some other drunk patron.

  Brad shook his head and eyed me with disbelief. "Un-fucking believable. She all but bent over and asked you to fuck her."

  "I'm glad she didn't," I said, grabbing the drink and turning it up. "She's not my type."

  Brad stared at me. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

  I didn't respond. Instead, I roved my eyes over the crowded bar. I saw plenty of girls, all dressed up with tons of makeup, and a few in fuck-me pumps, but none that interested me.

  "So what's up with you?" Brad asked, making me turn my attention back to him. "I've never seen you turn up so many so quickly before. What's got you so bent outta’ shape?"

  "My dad’s thinking about replacing me at the company."

  Brad's jaw dropped. "You're shitting me."

  I shook my head and proceeded to tell Brad everything. "They said I need to stop frequenting clubs, present one included, and picking up random chicks," I said as I got to the end of my tale. "And I should focus on cleaning up my image."

  "I don't know, man. Maybe they're right," Brad said after a moment of thought. I should have known better than to try to get sympathy from him. "A man in your position should be held to a higher standard. Fucking a new slut every weekend doesn’t exactly scream professionalism."

  "That's the thing," I said. "What I do on my own time is none of anyone else's business."

  "True," Brad agreed. "But it is when it affects the business's image. I don't know how you can't see that. I mean, get a grip already, Tyler. You're not fucking nineteen anymore. You should be thinking about settling down and starting a family in a couple of years."

  I swallowed back my anger. Brad should’ve had my back, but deep down, I knew he was right. "That will never happen. The family part, that is. And there's no way I'm going to stop fucking who I want, when I want."

  Brad shook his head at me.

  "In fact, just out of spite, I'm going to continue to do what I’ve been doing. Let them come for me. Fuck 'em."

  "Seriously?"

  "I just need you to represent me when they do." I rolled my shoulders. "Things are about to get ugly."

  Brad went slack-jawed. "You want me to represent you against Armex?"

  "Yeah. I'm going to call my dad's bluff. There's no fucking way I'm going to let him replace me without a fight. If the board votes on me, I'm going to sue their fucking pants off to take my half of the company."

  I gave Brad a direct look. "And I'm going to need your help when I do." Truthfully, Brad was a newbie lawyer and didn’t have much experience under his belt, but he was absolutely brilliant, and I knew he’d fight for me harder than anyone else. If I was going to go toe-to-toe with my father, I wanted him on my side.

  Brad stared at me a long time before letting out an explosive breath. "Alright, man," he said finally, "but I want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into if it comes down to that."

  "Of course." I smiled at him and clasped his shoulder. "I knew you'd have my back."

  Brad still looked sour. "It's just one more stressful situation to add on top of this God damn wedding."

  "Let me handle it," I offered suddenly. Brad had agreed to represent me, which was no small thing, since Armex was armed to the teeth with high-powered lawyers. I wanted to reward his loyalty.

  Brad immediately held his hands up in protest. "C'mon, man, you don't have to do that.”

  "It's no problem," I insisted. "In fact, my position at the company affords me a lot of connections. I can get a designer to handle everything. Katie will love it."

  Brad was in awe. "You'd do that?"

  "Hell yeah, man. It's supposed to be the most special moment of your life. You deserve it."

  Brad would never admit it, but I think he was getting slightly emotional on me because his eyes became watery. "Thanks, man, I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

  I casually signaled the girl for another drink, and she practically abandoned a patron mid-order in her haste to serve me.

  As I watched her sashay over to the mixer, I thought, maybe it's time to try something new.

  She was over with my drink in a few seconds, setting it down before me. I gave her the look. The look I gave to all the girls before I'm ready to fuck them, and her body trembled slightly.

  I threw back my drink and replied to Brad, "Don’t' sweat it."

  Chapter 4

  Victoria

  "I have a client that needs a wedding gown designed," Christine said to me as I sat down her steaming mug of coffee on her desk. She was nosing through the latest catalogue. "He also needs fittings and measurements for about one hundred wedding guests."

  That sounds like an awful amount of work.

  I stepped back and folded my hands before me respectfully. "What client is this?" Steam from the coffee reached my nostrils and I felt slightly nauseated. I’d made coffee so much for Christine that I’d come to hate the smell of it.

  I thought to myself, or maybe it's just her that I can't stand.

  Christine glanced up at me as if annoyed by my daring to ask a question. "A young man by the name of Tyler Locklin, co-founder of a company called Armex. From what I hear, he's quite a scoundrel. And if the rumors are true, he'll be out of a job soon." Christine glanced down into her coffee. "However, that won't stop me from working with him. I happen to know his father, James, a very cold, calculating man with deep pockets. His son will be paying dearly for my talents."

  I'd never heard of this guy, his father, or their company, and I was surprised Christine kept up with gossip outside of fashion. After all, she lived and breathed it. "Will I be working with him?" I ask.

  Christine stared at me for a moment with surprise, and then burst out laughing in a way that made me clench my teeth together. "Oh no, you silly little girl. You'll be helping a small army of fitters and designers get the measurements right for the wedding guests. I've already called and have April and Gabe assembling the team. You'll go along and do everything April tells you to since . . .” Christine paused to look my red dress up and down critically. "she actually has fashion sense."

  I clenched my fists. Christine really rubbed me the wrong way. Every day.

  Just a little while longer, I told myself. And that door is going to open up.

  "When do we start?"

  Christine picked up her coffee and took a sip before replying. "Today."

  * * *

  "Holy shit," April swore as we stood outside the back of Finnerman's headquarters, a large corporate building in the middle of downtown. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

  Despite Christine's annoying penchant for comparing me to her, I liked April. Unlike Christine, she was surprisingly level-headed and treated people like human beings. As Christine's head assistant, she was in charge of the more labor-intensive duties like the one we were about to embark on.

  "No shit," Gabe, April's assistant, said. Isn't that funny? Even the head assistant to Christine has an assistant. Blonde, good-looking and armed with dimples, Gabe happened to be gay, which I'm sure had given more than a few girls heartache over his lifetime. He was dressed in simple jeans, dress shirt and a tie, his blonde hair gelled and spiky.

  April shook her head. "I don't know what the hell she was thinking when she took on this client. We'll be swamped for days." April turned to me, biting her lower lip. "Vicky, I'm going to need more help from you than usual."

  I eyed her with apprehension. "What kind of help?"

  "Help keep track of the measurements, who’s been fitted, all that kind of stuff."

  "And who’s the hottest guy packing the most heat," Gabe added in, brandishing a twelve-inch ruler that he randomly pulled out of his pocket. "After all, aren't we going there to do measurements?"

  April and
I cracked up and Gabe winked at us mischievously.

  "So can I count on you?" April asked when we stopped laughing.

  I sobered quickly. Despite knowing that I wouldn't be mistreated by April, somehow I knew this undertaking was going to leave me exhausted, overworked and under-appreciated. But what other choice did I have?

  “Of course,” I replied.

  Chapter 5

  Tyler

  "I'll be along to help you in just a minute, Mr. Locklin," said a girl who introduced herself as April. She was obviously in charge of the fitting operation. She was a small, mousey thing.

  She was dressed in a flowing, flowery dress that reminded me of summer, her hair pulled back into a business-like ponytail. She was cute, in a wholesome, girl next door way, but she wasn’t my type.

  Usually, if I can't imagine a girl's lips wrapped around my dick, I know she’s not for me.

  Crossing my arms across my chest, I casually leaned against a column in the large reception hall with private dressing rooms I'd rented out for Brad's wedding and for him and his fiancée's family to use for the fittings. Both families would be stopping in and out all day to get measurements. "No problem," I told her. "Take your time."

  She beamed at me for a moment before leaving off, shouting orders. I watched her in boredom, my thoughts wandering.

  This is all so unnecessary, I thought to myself as I stared at all the hubbub of activity.

  The sad thing is, what Katie wanted cost a fortune, even without hiring a top designer to design it all. Luckily for Brad, I was footing the bill. For me it was just a drop in the bucket. It was the least I could do.

  Brad's fiancée had been very particular about what she wanted each and every person to wear, including me, Brad's best man.

  Normally, I'd have told Brad to tell his fiancée to fuck off. My closet back at my penthouse was lined with top of the line tuxedos that would beat anything worn by men from either side of their families. I didn't have to wear something else just because Brad's prissy fiancée had control issues.