Becoming Tyler Kramer: The Hidden Billionaire Boss’ Revenge

Chapter 2

Tyler turned a confused expression to Ashley Belarnt, his supervisor’s boss. The young lady flushed lightly, adjusting her weight against the desk as she wrapped slender arms around herself.

“I…I should get back…to Raymond, if…if…there’s nothing else,” he stammered again, but he did not move. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, as if afraid she would touch him.

Ashley sighed heavily, shaking her head slowly as she shifted her gaze from Tyler, her cheeks reddening.

“Raymond’s on assignment. I need you to report to me for the rest of the week,” she said gently, almost apologetically.

“Wha–” Tyler stuttered, but was interrupted.

“There’s no need to disturb yourself with direct reporting, Ashley! We can take the information for you,” Adrian, the blonde assistant, called out, a bit too loudly.

“He’s right, Ash,” Brandon, the dark-haired one, concurred, also too loudly.

Both younger men eyed the tanned fellow who often hooded his eyes, wore horn-rimmed glasses when a simple operation could have solved whatever vision issues he had, slouched when he stood or sat, but somehow managed to move like a tiger.

Both were red-faced at this point, but for a far different reason than their boss.

Tyler stared at his knees, shoulders hunched, face pale.

At twenty-eight, Tyler was one of the older people on Ashley’s floor, where most staff were twenty-five or under. The young heiress had taken up her role at the age of twenty and had wanted people she could ‘relate’ to.

Lord Belarnt, however, had ensured that a few older, more experienced people were on hand to help them keep things on track. People like Tyler.

“Come on, Adrian, Brandon, there’s no need for all that,” Ashley chided her assistants. “We’re all like family here. You’re making Tyler nervous!” she admonished them, her anti-clockwise stare causing her skirt to draw up higher on her left thigh.

Tyler held his breath.

Ashley exhaled and stood. She stepped to Tyler’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tyler could hear the grating of Adrian’s and Brandon’s teeth.

Babies! He grumbled in his mind. She’s your boss, not your f*****g girlfriend! What’s all the attitude for?

He inhaled a flowery, musky perfume and knew Ashley was taking advantage of Tyler Varsen again. Her fingers were on his shirt buttons – under his tie – her shoulder was at his cheek, her breast almost grazing his chin.

Tyler Varsen jolted lightly and turned his pale face away, not too much; otherwise, he would graze her, which was what she wanted. But Tyler Esteil was not ready to leave Raymond. Not yet.

"You don't need to worry," she murmured, her voice too husky for the environment. "Raymond needs to do some work himself, or you'll never get any rest."

Esteil wanted to stand. Varsen sank lower into his chair.

“Ashley!” a deep voice rumbled, the annoyance of the owner clear.

The heiress jumped, her hand dropping off Tyler’s broad chest. She straightened her skirt, rubbing her palms on the front, exactly how Varsen had done on his trousers not five minutes earlier.

Esteil exhaled mentally. Varsen was frozen in place.

“Dad!” Ashley called out nervously, “When did you get here?”

“You! Out!” Lord Belarnt, the second-wealthiest man in Ashrone, bellowed.

Varsen did not try to confirm who Lord Belarnt was speaking to. He rose quickly, and, without glancing up, slid out of Ashley Belarnt’s office as her father shot very choice words at his daughter.

Adrian's and Brandon's eyes followed the wide back and strong arms of Tyler Varsen as he left. They had been nervous of him from the first day the slightly distracted, soft-spoken inspector, built like a sleek jungle cat, had walked into this very office to give a report.

And every day after, as he came in more frequently and stayed longer, their nervousness had only increased, until the day he walked in and left with a promotion letter and a reassignment notice from the regions to the Bell Tower.

That tingling in their minds had never relapsed, and a mild irritation had developed into something very closely resembling spite.

==========

Tyler headed back down to this office.

“Hey, Raymond! How are you?!” he called out cheerfully as he answered his desk phone, reading the caller ID.

“Tyler! Where the f**k have you been?!”

“I went to Brighton…I told you about it. You said I should take the –”

“I know what I said, Ty! But you stayed too long! Why didn’t you call me?” Raymond demanded.

Tyler rolled his eyes as he gazed out of the 37th floor of the Bell Tower, one of the most beloved, iconic landmarks in Salvena City. It was a cloudy day, and there was dense fog in the city.

‘Fog,’ but it had nothing to do with the weather. It was the mines. The gems were reacting to the exposure from the atmosphere. It happened occasionally, but never with any rhyme or reason.

Some said it was nitrates in the air, others said it was oxygen. The health inspectors were on the job; they would clear it within the hour.

Tyler stared, mesmerized by the power of the gems beneath the city. He could feel them, pulsing in his veins, even now, from the 37th floor of the 55-floor skyscraper.

Some days, it gave him headaches; other days, it soothed him, helped him remember why he loved being alive.

Days like today.

“Tyler? Ty! Don’t zone out on me, Inspector Varsen!” Raymond called out exasperatedly.

Tyler smiled lightly. He liked Raymond. The boy was as spoiled as the others, but he had potential. He was also curious about things and had a penchant for asking very good questions.

But Tyler was not here to make friends. He was here to win assets. And if that failed, access.

For Tyler, Raymond was both, just like his cousin, Ashley Belarnt.

“It’s a foggy day,” Tyler commented flatly, and Raymond immediately calmed down.

That was the other reason he liked the younger man. Tyler Varsen didn’t need to pretend too much around Raymond.

“You doing okay?” Raymond asked carefully.

At the office, only the two of them knew that Tyler sometimes fell sick when the fog came. Not always, but there was never any indication of which occurrence would cause an episode.

In one of the incidents, before Raymond had finally come to believe the fog was an issue, Tyler had slumped, falling to his knees in their office.

The supervisor had rushed to the wall-to-ceiling glass, glanced down, and seen the evidence.

There had been no fog earlier that day; it had come suddenly, as it usually did, and Tyler, who had been stuck at this desk since morning, had simply slid off his chair.

“Yeah, I’m inside. It was clear on my way in. Guess a new vein opened or something cracked –”

“Or someone is doing something without a permit,” Raymond cut in.

That’s my boy, Tyler mused, his smile widening.