Page 10 of My Boss

“The ink has run out,” I announce.

“What?”

What’s your problem, jerk?!

“The printer ran out of ink and I had to change the font color.”

“You could have sent the file to the department’s printer.”

Unfortunately… He’s right. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Okay. I’ll do it right away.”

Jan pulls up the cuff of his shirt and glances at his chic (and, to my eye, damn expensive) watch. I haven’t seen him wearing it before. How many does he have?

“There is no more time for that. Please take what you have. You will read everything to me in the car.”

Eeeek… What will I do? Where?

“I’m to go with you?”

Jan doesn’t answer, just looks at me with those gray frosted eyes of his that seem to say, “And which part of the sentence,You will read everything to me in the car, didn’t you get?” after which he walks away without saying a word.

Jackass.

“I’ll just put the printouts in my briefcase. I’ll join you in the parking lot downstairs,” I add, and in response, I hear only a grunt.

Engler walks to the coat pegs at the end of the hallway, puts on his coat and heads for the elevator.

Christ, what a strange creature he is. He could at least say, “Sure, see you later,” like a normal person. But he didn’t… Grumpy growler.

My screwed-up boss is tangible proof that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. The fact that he looks like fucking James Bond in that damn suit and unbuttoned coat doesn’t change the fact that he still remains a stiff Jan—a grim sonofabitch.

Just as I step out into the underground parking lot, I hear the sound of an engine starting up. I look around the rows of cars and notice the headlights of one of them on.

A big beast, with tinted side windows, probably expensive as hell, with the BMW X4 badge on the back. Well, yes, a fitting car for his ego. I walk up to the SUV, open the door and pack myself inside. Instantly I’m enveloped by the elegant interior, the masculine scent and the proximity of my boss, whose sturdy, exuding self-confidence posture seems to fill the entire space.

“I’m here,” I sound like a fool because, after all, he can see that.

“Do you have everything I asked for?”

“I do.”

“Please start with the balance sheets of the last five years in an antichronological order.” The car starts rolling out of the parking lot.

“There is no need for this. The year before the merger is enough.”

“Apparently you did not understand, so I will say it again. The customer has an audit for failure to report… ”

“I understood perfectly,” I interrupt him mid-sentence. “And the audit is unfounded. Spendimex had no obligation to report the merger. Their turnover in the year before the merger with Viramo and Kodo was forty-nine million, seven hundred and twenty-eight thousand euros. The notification obligation for Polish companies, on the other hand, occurs when turnover is above fifty million euros.”

Engler glances at me out of the corner of his eye. I think I surprised him.

“Please take out the printout with the turnover total.”

“We do not have an aggregate document. Each month is separate.”

He frowns.

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