Page 13 of Austin

With my arms up, I try to free-fall back, but the damn chair doesn’t budge. Instead, it catapults me straight up, interfering with my desire to cause havoc in any way I can.

He hangs up the phone, and I know he’s gonna discuss Missy, but I don’t have the patience for that this morning.

Instead, I point toward the door where the assistant will sit. “Is she hot?”

Bryce growls at me. “It’s her first day.”

“So?”

He rises from his desk and gives me a pointed glare. “I just met her an hour ago. The temp agency hired her.” He walks away from his desk and into his private bathroom, leaving the door open as he adjusts his tie.

He looks so much like our father did at his age—dark hair over a serious brow and square jawline. He never misses a shave or a morning at the gym. And at six foot three, he looks like he can conquer the fucking world.

Except for me, of course.

“I call dibs on banging your new assistant,” I shout out. I’m fucking with him. He knows I don’t date women who work for us, but I’m trying to point out that he shouldn’t either.

His deep voice booms from the bathroom. “You can’t call dibs on my secretary.”

“Why? You want a crack at her first? I hear that didn’t go so well for you in the past.”

Bryce walks out of the bathroom, his jaw clenched and his fists balled tight. “Can we please discuss the issues at hand and not what your actual hand will be doing when you don’t get in her pants?”

I grin. “It’s on. You know I love a challenge.”

Bryce shakes his head as he reaches for a folder off his desk and slams it on the table in front of me. “Bolton Energy is shopping for ad space. They’re the biggest residential solar energy company in the world, and everyone from NBC to Amazon is pitching them for placement.”

I lift the colorful file off the glass table and thumb through it. I’ve seen their ads before. They usually feature a family of four having dinner in their home that’s completely run on green energy.

I notice an article about water recycling and how they’ve developed a cost-effective machine that can be installed on any home boiler.

“It’s an amazing company, but I don’t see how the content we’re providing is something they’d want to invest in.” I don’t even try to hide my dismay for where the company our mother built is heading.

Since Dad gave Missy a position in the company, our content has been a far cry from the down-home roots we used to have. Now that she’s part-owner, I can’t even imagine what she’ll do.

Bryce runs a hand through his dark hair, my comment aggravating him, to say the least. “No shit. That’s why we need to restructure and get the content back on track. If you didn’t dick around so much and actually helped run this company, I wouldn’t be going head-to-head with Missy on a daily basis and losing every fucking time.”

Here we go again. The conversation we keep on coming back to. I jolt up from the seat and get eye-to-eye with him. “Tell me how you really feel,” I spit out.

“It’s time you grew the fuck up and started pulling weight around here.”

I can feel my jaw protruding through my skin with how hard I’m clenching my teeth.

“We are one wrong move away from losing this company. Dad and Missy are going to sell it piece by piece to the highest bidder unless you get your shit together and fucking help me.”

The notion of our family business being sold shocks me. Not that I don’t think my father and stepmother would try. Neither of them cares about Sexton Media. All they see are dollar signs, and this company is worth a pretty penny.

My brows furrow as I try to figure out what in the world Bryce is talking about. “They can’t do that without a majority share in the company. You, Tanner, and I have fifty percent between the three of us.”

Bryce does an abrupt about-face and walks to his desk. “You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea about what?”

He picks up an email that’s already printed out. “You’re way too … you this morning to know just how close you are to losing your shares.”

With a confused frown, I take the paper from him and look down at the subject line.

RACING TO THE GRAVE