For the first time in more than a decade, I existed beside my father without wanting to punch him in the face.
After all, I needed his mouth functioning for the announcement he planned on making in—I checked my Rolex—the next eighteen minutes.
We sat before the entire board and major stockholders during Costa Industries’ annual shareholders meeting. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
We’d collectively spent the first thirty minutes gloating over Licht Holdings’s downfall, this morning’s leaked mugshot of Madison and his father blown up on the projector screen behind me.
Things had fallen into place. And soon, after the short recess, Senior would officially announce his retirement and nominate me to take his position.
In the corner, Bruce sulked, clenching a complimentary breadstick in his fist.
It was a pity I derived no triumph, no pleasure, from knowing I would soon be announced as the CEO of Costa Industries. I didn’t actually want the position. Only for as long as it took to destroy the company.
As for Bruce, he’d never sparked genuine conflict in me. I knew as soon as I pushed him out of my path, he’d be unmemorable and insignificant, despite his lingering sour presence.
Kind of like a fart. But one on a fat payroll.
I checked my group chat when a message buzzed in from von Bismarck.
OLLIE VB
How much do you guys wanna bet the local prison population also finds Madison Licht’s face punchable?
ROMEO COSTA
I would honestly rather they find it fuckable.
ZACH SUN
Never mind that.
What’s happening with the CEO position, Rom?
ROMEO COSTA
It’s mine.
Any minute now.
Licht Holdings is out of the game.
Bruce is eating his emotions.
While I was pulling extra hours, he was pulling the new receptionist.
Barely twenty-two years of age.
Senior didn’t like it.
Neither did her husband, who is threatening to pen a tell-all.
ZACH SUN
I’m proud of you.
(Pretend I care enough to mean what I just said.)
OLLIE VB
Don’t mind him.
I’M proud of you.
Your dedication to ruining others can only be paralleled with that of Stefano DiMera.
ZACH SUN
I am unfamiliar with this name.
Politician? Historical figure?
OLLIE VB
Days of Our Lives character.
Super villain.
Makes Billy the Kid look like a kitten.
ROMEO COSTA
One question, @OllievB—why?
OLLIE VB
You forget my life consists of breathing and getting paid for it.
Daytime TV was all I had going for me before streaming networks got into the game.
I frowned at the text box on my phone, losing both the thread of conversation and my patience.
OLLIE VB
Don’t slam it before you try it.
That time when Marlena was possessed by the devil was wild.
The exorcism scene is some of the best TV I’ve ever seen.
ZACH SUN
That’s because amateur porn comprises most of your screen time.
OLLIE VB
Amateur porn just hits you different.
You can suspend your disbelief that these people are actually stepsiblings, you know?
You can never do that with established porn.
ZACH SUN
Suspend your disbelief?
You just recited a plot line from a soap opera in which a woman levitates around the room with no eyeballs.
You know Santa doesn’t exist, right?
OLLIE VB
Of course, he does.
I saw him at the mall just this Christmas.
ZACH SUN
You desperately need a hobby.
OLLIE VB
I know.
But Rom won’t give me his SIL’s number. 🙁
ROMEO COSTA
She is too young fo
I was about to inform Oliver of how close he was to being canceled by his childhood friends when I noticed something astray.
Whispers ping-ponged across the room, volleying from one shareholder to the next.
Cara dashed to me from the refreshments table, pocketing her phone along the way.
She leaned into my ear, voice low. “Madison and his father are out on bail.”
Shit.
“Already? It usually takes forty-eight hours for a bail hearing.”
“Their lawyers expedited the hearing, and well, the Lichts still have many friends in D.C.”
Madison’s threat echoed in my skull. The cretin had the spine of a gumdrop, but when it came to Dallas, I refused to chance it.
I palmed my phone, shooting a text to Alan, who I’d rehired this morning. He wasn’t set to resume his protection duties until tomorrow.
ROMEO COSTA
Can you start early?
ALAN REECE
Early when?
ROMEO COSTA
Early now.
ALAN REECE
I’m on a flight to Potomac from New York.
I’ll land at BWI in an hour.
Thank fuck.
Cara left while I issued an alert to my estate security team, demanding them to raise the threat level to yellow and follow proper protocol.
Beside me, Senior rose, taking his place before the microphone on the podium.
“Welcome back, gentlemen.”
In the audience, Marla Whitmore’s lips pinched together. As our only female board member, my father relished in pretending she didn’t exist.
It made the fact that she refused to kiss his ass far more enjoyable.
“As we resume this meeting, I’d like to make an announcement. It’s one I’m sure you all have expected for quite some time.”
At the edge of the room, Cara waved her phone, capturing my attention again. Mine buzzed with a text seconds later.
CARA EVANS
Emergency.
ROMEO COSTA
Can it wait?
He’ll make the announcement any minute now.
And sure enough, Senior did.
“Effective immediately, I am retiring as the CEO of Costa Industries. My last act as CEO will be to announce my nominee as successor…”
CARA EVANS
I just got word that Madison Licht is on the way to your home.
Dallas is home.
I shot out of my seat, sending it flying behind me. It slammed against the wall, leg snapping.
My father chuckled into the mic.
“Easy there. I haven’t even announced your name yet, Romeo. Kids these days…” He shook his head. “So vigorous.”
Scattered laughter bounced off the walls. I strode straight toward the exit behind Senior, eliciting a frown between his sunken cheeks.
“Where are you going, Son?” His words traveled through the mic to every speaker in the room.
I didn’t answer him.
He gestured for security to block my way. Four suits surrounded me, fanned out in a semicircle.
I could take them. I had ample experience fighting and panicked urgency fueling my cells.
But in the interest of time, I turned to Senior. “Madison Licht is out on bail and headed toward my home. Toward my wife.”
“Alert your security.”
“I did.”
Around us, whispers from the shareholders gained volume.
Bruce poked his head from the pastry tray he’d taken his emotions out on, seeing the sun peek past the clouds for the first time since my father informed him of his decision.
Senior cleared his throat, unused to having his authority questioned in such a public manner. “There’s nothing more you can do. The annual shareholders meeting only comes once a year. Sit down.”
I pivoted to his lackeys, ignoring my father. “One million dollars to each of you if you step aside.”
They glanced at each other, trying to gauge whether I’d follow through on the promise.
“The offer reduces by a hundred K with each passing second. One—”
They scattered out the door.
From the podium, Senior still hadn’t gotten the hint that destroying Costa Industries meant jack shit compared to Dallas.
“Sit down, Romeo Costa Jr., or so help me, you will never step foot in this room again, let alone as CEO of Costa Industries.”
I bolted out the door and never looked back.
