Page 25 of Brutal

I grit my teeth, counting to ten. Then fifteen. Then twenty. She gives me that moment to absorb her words rather than barreling on, which is probably for the best.

“Have there been any people who like me?” I ask bitterly.

“Oh, you aren’t so bad. When you’re well-rested,” Caroline says with a touch of humor that I don’t find particularly welcome.

“It’s not my fault everybody’s so needy,” I grumble.

“They are,” she agrees. “Which is why you’re going to take two weeks off for some well-deserved rest and relaxation, and you won’t check your email or your work phone during that time. I booked flights to Honolulu and Ibiza, if you’d like to go to either of those places during your time off. Really get away from everything.”

When I was young, even trips to the neighboring state had been out of the question. Now my assistant books first class flights to multiple locations just in case I’m interested in going.

Ibiza sounds nice, actually, but I realize… two weeks, completely free of work duties.

Two weeks where the only thing on my calendar is Mimosa.

“Nah,” I say, smiling. “You can cancel those flights.”

It really would be nice to take a break to be at home training Mimosa. I could spend hours torturing her, forcing her to show an emotion that isn’t fucking fake.

“I’ll take a nice, deserved staycation. Or maybe I’ll drive somewhere. Nobody else needs to know where the fuck I am,” I say with more cheer.

“They don’t. I’ll be vague about your whereabouts though, so they won’t bother you as much.” Caroline sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. “Unfortunately, the next board meeting really couldn’t be moved, which is why your vacation is only two weeks long.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” I tell her. “Just send me any documents I’ll need to prep for that.”

“Of course. I’ll have everything summarized and ready for you when you return.” Caroline smiles at me, like this is all a done deal.

It sounds almost… reasonable.

I hate it, but it does.

“You’ll be fine without me?” I ask her.

Caroline shrugs. “For two weeks? Yes, I think I’ll survive.”

I can’t believe my fucking assistant sent me on a forced vacation.

On the other hand, isn’t a good executive assistant meant to be near psychic? I guess she earns her pay.

“Then let’s wrap up whatever we need to do today to prepare for my vacation,” I say.

“Right away, Mr. Brutal.” She stands up, heading to the door. Before she opens it, she turns around and says, “Thank you for listening to me. We can set up an auto-forward so you don’t even get tempted to read your emails?—”

“Stop,” I growl at her. “Don’t push your luck.”

She lets out a little snort, shaking her head before leaving my office.

I grab a clicky pen and start fiddling with it.

Vacation.

Vacation. Just me and Mimosa, having fun.

I keep clicking the pen, trying not to focus on the fact that my gut is still not on board with the entire idea.

I leave at quarter to five, paperwork completed and caught up on. I’m pretty sure Caroline has been planning this for a while, because most of the work had already been wrapped up.

Whatever.

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