Page 40 of Filthy Boss

“Shit,” I said again as her photos loaded on the screen. “So much for whacking off to Candice’s tits.”

There’s Candice at a business event.

There’s Candice at a fundraiser.

There’s Candice at a formal dinner.

There’s Candice with a group of sorority sisters.

There’s Candice in her cap and gown.

“Son of a bitch,” I said with a sigh. I pushed the computer away in disgust and picked up the coffee cup. “Are you really that fucking boring, Candice Carlson? You couldn’t give me one decent tit pick to start my day?”

My iPhone buzzed with a text message from Henry. He was downstairs with the car. Crap. My quest to learn more about Candice Carlson would have to wait.

I stared at her utterly boring profile picture for a moment.

I closed the laptop and shook my head.

Candice Carlson needed a little excitement in her life.

And fortunately for her, I was just the guy to give it to her.


I handed the driver my suitcase so he could stow it in the trunk, then climbed into the back of the limo to sit next to Henry, who grunted at me and continued fiddling with his phone.

“Bad manners to use your phone at the table, my son,” I said, shaking my head at him.

“Sorry, just shooting an email off to Stan Roberts at Goldman confirming our flight time for today.” He tucked the phone inside his Armani jacket and directed his full attention to me.

“So, how was your weekend?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t do much. Just flew out to Vegas to look at the Ferrari I bought.”

“Did you drive it back?”

I snorted at him. “You don’t actually drive a car like that Henry. I had them load it onto a climate-controlled car hauler I borrowed from Earnhardt for transport back to Chicago. It should arrive in a day or two.”

A look of judgment came to his eye. “How much did you end up spending? On a car?”

I waved a hand at him, as if the question smelled bad, but not as bad as my answer. “I spent more than I should have, but not as much as I would have.”

“Tanner, how much?”

I blew out a long sigh. “Twenty-eight-point-seven mill for the car and another ten-percent in auction fees,” I said, shrugging off the number like it was pocket change, because that’s what it was to me. He scowled at me. “Okay, so it went a little over estimate. It’s not a big deal. In five years, it will double in value.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m always right.”

“Are you?”

I glanced over to see him scowling at me. I held out my hands and asked, “What’s up your ass this morning?”

“Your little show on Friday with the Goldman people is what’s up my ass,” Henry said. He gave me the look my dad used to give me whenever I disappointed him, which was most of the time. He shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue. “I’m not going to let you blow this deal, Tanner. It’s too important.”

“I’m not going to blow the deal, Henry,” I said, giving him a dismissive wave. “I really don’t understand why you’re so upset. I thought I was quite the gentleman in that meeting.”

“Of course, you were.”

He blew out a long breath and shook his head again. Some days Henry shook his head so much that I expected it to come loose from his neck.

He said, “Do you have any idea the position you have put me in with the Goldman people? And with Anderson, asking them to completely rework their executive team’s schedule for the week?”

I huffed. “I don’t give a shit about the Goldman people. They work for us, remember? And the Anderson executive team will be out on their ears the moment the final documents are signed if they’re not careful.”

“Well, I do give a shit about them,” Henry said seriously. “Unlike you, I don’t have billions of dollars that lead me to think that I can be a total ass in front of people. Honestly, Tanner, sometimes you act like a spoiled teenager rather than a successful business man. What is your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal,” I said with a sigh. “I just get bored and I like fucking with people. I keep telling you to stop making me attend meetings, but you keep insisting on bringing me along.”

“Because, like it or not, you are the face of Wright Enterprises. You’re the bad boy that gets all the press. You’re the guy that does the Ted Talks that make millennials hang on your every word and spend millions on your products.”

“Do they really?” I asked, pretending to be serious. “Hang on my every word?”