Page 28 of Devilish Bully
By Thursday,we’re touring the newly remodeled lounge; its pictures will be featured in the spreads for the big IPO party.
The furniture gleams under industrial lights, sleek nap pods line one wall, and a ridiculous juice bar has been installed like this is some kind of luxury resort.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Penelope beams at us like a proud parent. “The employees will love it, productivity will soar, and the press will have a field day. But this is only the beginning, Mr. Pearson. We’ll need to look into childcare, an on-site gym, maybe even wellness retreats. It’s all about shaping a brand-new culture.”
Lucian’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue.
I glance at him, watching the way his shoulders stiffen with her every word, and the realization starts to click.
Not all of this is his fault. Some of it is being forced on him. The shareholders, Penelope, the board—they’re all pulling strings, and he’s the one tangled in the web.
For a moment, I feel a flicker of sympathy, like I’m seeing a crack in the armor he wears so tightly.
Then he catches me looking, and the smirk that curves his mouth makes the sympathy vanish as quickly as it came.
Okay. No. It can’t be.
He’s still the devil deep down.
THE CEO
LUCIAN
“Dahlia bouquet for a Miss Kendall Clarke?” A deliveryman steps into my office on a Wednesday, armed with the largest pack of blooms to date.
She should’ve dumped him by now…
“You can bring them over here,” I say. “Thank you.”
He nods and places them on the edge of my desk, gently fluffing them and freeing the envelope before walking away.
I brush my fingers over the envelope, tempted to tear it open myself, the paper crinkling under my grip. But the door opens before I can, and Kendall walks in.
She smiles at the flowers as if they belong, then settles into her chair like nothing about this is strange.
I can’t take the suspense any longer.
“Kendall,” I say, tapping the side of the vase hard enough to make the water ripple. “Who the hell are these flowers from, and why do they keep getting delivered?”
“Um…because someone sends them to my job?”
“Is this someone your boyfriend?” I cross my arms. “Does he know who’s been devouring your pussy?”
She blinks.
“If I knew you liked flowers this much, I would have some delivered for you, too. Except I’d probably send them daily instead of weekly…”
A slow smile spreads across her face and she stands, walking toward my desk, hips swaying just enough to remind me of every reason she’s a distraction.
“Well, I do like flowers,” she says. “And I keep them all in a room with a back balcony at my brownstone, so I can reseed them when they’re gone.”
“That’s very nice, but that’s not answering who they’re coming from.”
“My mom,” she says, smiling and tearing off the tag. Her fingers fidget with the edge until it shreds in half. “It’s a subscription she started when I…” Her voice trails off and she shows me the note.
No matter how hard it gets, don’t forget…
You’re not just working for yourself anymore.
