His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,29

said. “Screw this, I’ll just go find him myself.”

“But, sir, you need to prep for the afternoon meeting. And I have some documents that need signing—”

“Who’s in charge here? You, or me?” Connor asked. He looked down at James’ hand on his arm.

James gulped and slowly removed his hand. “You, sir. As you wish.”

Connor was frustrated. The one time he actually needed to get hold of his father for a pressing business matter, and the bastard was nowhere to be found. He walked swiftly around the floor to his father’s wing and burst into the reception area.

“Oh! Connor, your father is indisposed—” His father’s receptionist stood up and waved at him.

“Is he, now?” Connor asked, and rushed to his father’s closed office door.

Connor flung the door open, only to find Sandra spread-eagle on his father’s desk with her skirt hitched up to her navel. Her tits hung out of her blouse while his father pounded into her, his trousers at his ankles.

“Connor!” she gasped, and rushed to cover her breasts.

His father turned slowly, as his fat and saggy ass jiggled below his button-up shirt. “I thought your mother taught you to knock,” he said.

“What,” Connor began coldly, “the fuck is going on here?”

“I—I came looking for you,” Sandra said as she pushed herself away from his father and pulled her skirt down. “This isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“It’s not what it looks like?” Connor said quietly. “It’s not what it looks like?” He could hear his voice start to raise, but he couldn’t stop it. His father’s receptionist shut the door behind him.

“It’s not! I swear,” she said. “I—I came here with a proposal for you.” She started to cry, but her bullshit didn’t work on him anymore. “I’m sorry! I want you back. I came to ask for you back. And then—”

“I figured you were too busy with your magazine shoots or whatever,” his father said. He pulled up his trousers and lit a cigar. “So I took her up on the offer. One of us may as well benefit.”

“You piece of shit,” Connor said. His fists were clenched, knuckles white.

“You know what I don’t get, though?” his father asked with raised brows. “This girl here, she says her name is Sandy. Seems you have a thing for girls with similar names. Is that just a coincidence, I can assume?”

Connor’s mind reeled. Sandra pulled at his arm, mascara streamed down her face. Be careful, be careful what you say.

“I used to want to be like you,” he told his father. “Or, at least, be as rich as you. But you’re disgusting, you know that? You filthy fuck.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, boy, you understand?” His father made a move for him, surprisingly fast, like one of those bulls in Central America that gets a hot pepper stuck up its ass during a rodeo.

Connor lunged away from his father instinctively, putting the massive oak desk between them.

“Stop it!” Sandra screamed from the corner of the room. Connor glanced at her and saw one of her breasts still hung out of her shirt.

“You shut the fuck up, you useless bitch,” his father told her. From the opposite end of the desk, he eyed Connor. “That the best pussy you could pull? It was subpar at best,” he said. “Maybe that new one of yours is better. In fact, I’m sure she is. I’ll have to sample it for myself.”

“Fucking asshole,” Connor said, and he raced around the desk at his father—who didn’t move or even flinch.

“What are you going to do?” his father asked. A mean smile unfurled from below that waxed mustache. “Hit me? Try it. See what happens. See if I don’t cut you off in a second.”

Connor breathed heavily, but some practical part of him must have been listening. “What about Mom…”

“Your mother? Your mother knows all about it!” his father said. “Boy, you really are thicker than I thought. But if you want to make her more miserable, give her all the gory details, be my guest.”

Connor growled, shocked at the raw noise that erupted from his throat.

“You listen to me. And listen good. If you step out of line, in any way, you’re done. You hear me?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Connor said. He turned on his heel and started toward the door. Sandra, still sobbing, started to hobble after him.

“Think about all you have to lose,” his father said, his voice almost lyrical. Connor stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Your trust fund.