Page 19 of Abyss

A snarl built inside me as I curled my hand in a fist, watching those tits swing.

God, how I wanted to fuck them right in that moment,imagining my cock sliding in between them while she licked the pre-cum off my tip.

And just like that, I was more furious with that image—and the fact that any asshole looking in her direction was probably imagining the same thing—than the fact that she’d come in late.

A smirk ghosts over her lips as she leaves the paper on my desk before turning around to sashay through the door, leaving me completely dumbstruck.

“Hudson? You still there?”

Jared’s voice has me bouncing out of my daze before I clear my throat and pick up the paper she left. “Yeah, I . . . let me see what I can do.”

I skim through what looks like . . .a fucking resignation letter?!

Dear Mr. Case,

Effective immediately, I’ve decided to disembark the pleasure cruise that is Case Geo. Thank you for giving me a glimpse of your management style and for this very memorable character-building experience. Unfortunately, I won’t be staying on for more of the fun and festivities.

Wishing you all the best in dressing-down your next admin.

Regards,

Kavita Jain

Motherfucker!

“I know it’s last minute, but this is a big project for us.” Jared’s voice jolts me once again into action and I’m rising out of my seat as he continues, “We want to make sure anychanges in your staff work for us, too, especially for such a key role since your admin is one of our primary contacts with Case Geo and does so much more than just manage your calendar. I don’t expect any issues, given Silas already liked Kavi’s work, but it always helps to meet in person.”

With my heart hammering in my chest, I hang up with Jared and crumble her resignation in my fist. Then, I do something I’d vowed never to do.

I chase after a quitter.

Chapter Seven

KAVI

Iwouldn’t describe myself as assertive or fierce, save for one situation in my past.

Even when warranted, I don’t generally defend myself or have overt emotional reactions leading to tantrums or meltdowns. I don’t rage or throw vases against walls; I never pound my feet or jab my finger in the air to make a point.

Instead, I tend to be mild-mannered and inward. Calm and composed in most situations.

It’s not to say I don’t feel such emotions as anger and bitterness, because I do, just like anyone else. But generally, I keep them bottled up, hidden behind placatory nods, fidgeting fingers, and rapid breaths.

I suppose it’s my way of sticking it to those who want to see a bigger reaction. Those who expect me to burst into tears and beg for mercy after having pushed me to my limits.

But on most days, I’m satisfied knowing the joke is on them.

That they’ll never get the reaction they’re waiting for. They didn’t when I was in high school—when I was mockedand bullied for everything from my clothes to my shapely body to the crumpled-up dollars Mom shoved into my pocket for lunch—and they won’t now.

Which is why it shocks me to have witnessed a side of myself today I’ve worked hard to conceal.

Who was that woman demanding an apology and holding her ground? Where did she come from?

Did I really strut into my dickface boss’s office to hand in my resignation, dripping with overt sarcasm and disdain? Was that really me, or did I somehow inhabit someone else’s body? Someone far more audacious and fearless than I’ve ever been.

But God, it felt good.

Not that he’ll shed a single tear. The gorgeous bastard’s probably smirking, silently pumping his fist in victory, but at least it felt good to me.

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