Page 60 of Broken Headboards
Chapter Twenty-Four
Austin
One hundred.
There are one hundred clients under the Oakmont name. Meaning, I work directly with one hundred businesses and cater to their various furnishing needs. Some date back to the early days, when my great grandfather was around, while others have been recently attained by yours truly.
And, honestly, it’s probably more than a hundred at any given time. Some people argue that one company can’t handle it allanddo it well, but, baby, would I be here if we couldn’t? That’s what Oakmont is known for, we know how to handle any client and can deliver any project—it’s one of our specialties.
Sure, there’ve been some complaints, but to be successful in any industry, you’re going to ruffle a few feathers. I know I’ve definitely ruffled more than my share. But they always come crawling back, one way or another.
And, I know, my reputation precedes me. But the only reputation I truly care about is the one attached to Oakmont. People can think whatever they want about me, like that I have a constant parade of women spreading their legs for me every morning, noon, and night—rumors always have a bit of truth in them after all—but as long as their satisfied with my work, then that’s all that matters.
Although recently, my parade is gradually dwindling down into a one woman show.
Two.
Oakmont has had two competitors in its lifetime. Both of which have the power to uproot the life of everyone who gets an Oakmont Furniture Inc. paycheck every month.
You know me, I don’t take competition lightly.
When everyone and their damn brother moved their factories over to China to cut overhead costs, it almost tanked us—because we never wanted to take our jobs or our company out of America. We’re born and raised in the US and our furniture is too and always will be. We never had any intention of leaving our home. But because of that we scraped by, which meant cutting costs wherever we could. Yeah we owned our own business but our lives were never glamorous. Nothing like what my life is today. The moment I took over, everything changed. I revamped our business model and made some hard calls—ones that my father and grandfather never approved of—but it worked out for the best. If it wasn’t for me we’d still be the mom and pop shop barely making it.
And now, that I’ve had a taste of this life and how it feels like to be the fucking King with his own empire, there’s no way in hell I’m going back.
Then there’sDominaDesigns and its headmistress Tess Armstrong. They’re—well—sheis our only seriouscompetitor. And not just in the competition for Clarendon Tower—Dominais a serious contender in the industry. Another few years and they’ll be as big as Oakmont. They’ve impacted a few of my sales in the past by steering a few clients over to them or low-balling us in other business venues. I told you she’s always been a thorn in my side.
In the Clarendon Tower competition she’s making me fucking work for it. I never thought this contest would be as close as it is. We’re going into the last round fucking tied—30 to 30.
But I have a feeling, even after this, she’ll have an effect on me. Tess is already doing shit to my head no one has ever done before.
Ten.
We’ve officially been out on seven dates, but I count all the little times too. The drinks after the first Board meeting in the lounge, a random encounter at the gym, and a glance in the hallway. I count everything when it comes to her.
See… she’s fucking with my head.
That’s what makes this so hard. Any other competition and I would be guns-a-blazing, not thinking twice about destroying anyone. I would leave them in the dust and stand Rocky-style on their ashes. Ok, I’m not that maniacal, but I do fucking love winning.
But don’t get me wrong, I’m also not saying that I’m going easy on her and letting her win. Fuck that. I didn’t lose my mind completely. But with every round, a twinge of guilt nags at me and it keeps growing with every step I take forward. It’s not a feeling I’m used to because I live to win but I don’t fucking like it one bit.
Why did I have to fall for my competition?
Fifty.
That’s how many times Tess has said my name. And, I’m that fucking sap who loves hearing it roll off her tongue. I never in my wildest fucking dreams would’ve thought that I’d be saying these types of things, but here the fuck I am, confessing my feelings. Jesus Christ have the tides changed. It still doesn’t sit well me.
But my favorite moment of Tess saying “Austin”is when she moans it. It’s mid-orgasm and her body shudders in bliss around me—on top or underneath me—and she sighs against my skin. I’m telling you it’s become a starring feature in my highlight reel. Tess is so much better than a fucking half-baked sex montage in my head. I can’t get enough of everything about her.
Or even when she just announces my presence in a room, greeting me in the lobby or at a restaurant. I only want to hear my name fall from her lips. I need to commission her to make my own theme song really.
Two.
I’ve watched two friends of mine change their ways. Almost three, if you count Taylor and his fling with Ashley.
I’ve stood next to two of my boys on their wedding days watching them devote and commit their life to a one woman. There fucking batshit crazy…that’s what I thought at least. I never understood it. Yeah Serena and Sonia are smoking hot with slick tongues—but it’s still fuckingforever.
How can you just give up your life for woman?
