Page 33 of Devilish Bully
“Increments of sixteen thousand, twenty-four thousand, thirty-six thousand…” Kendall shakes her head, her voice cutting sharper with each number. “It should be up to three million if you stashed it away in a money market account, right?”
“This matter really doesn’t concern you, Miss Clarke.” Penelope looks at me for help, but I don’t offer her any.
“So, it’s not enough for you to get paid six figures a month for merely consulting,” Kendall goes on, relentless now. “You want to take the company public, cash in on all your shares, and bring in someone who will let you funnel even more money out in kickbacks. That’s not strategy—it’s theft dressed up in designer suits.”
“We’re doing what’s best for Pearson Industries.” Penelope hisses.
“Then tell him the truth,” Kendall snaps. “Tell him he doesn’t need to go public at all. He’ll make the same amount staying private and making acquisitions instead. It’ll just take three years longer—and you don’t want to wait that long, do you?”
What the…
“I’ll return to talk to you—along with the rest of the board—when we don’t have an intern spouting her opinion.”
“Miss Clarke is not an intern.” I can’t keep the venom out of my voice as I grip Kendall’s hips, grounding myself on her presence. “Answer her question.”
“No.” Penelope shakes her head. “I only answer to you.”
“I’m telling you to answer her questions.”
Silence.
“So it is true…” I shake my head, letting go of Kendall’s waist.
“I’ll speak to you in a minute, Miss Clarke.”
She storms out, her heels snapping against the floor, her fury echoing long after she’s gone.
And I’m left staring down a board that’s been plotting my downfall under my own roof, in my family’s house, while the woman they call an intern just fought harder for me than anyone else in this room.
THE ACCOUNTANT
KENDALL
If I wasn’t fired before, I will be now.
Not wanting to make a scene or pull Myra away from having fun, I’m in my suite lining up our suitcases.
One packed, one to go…
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Lucian’s voice makes me look up.
“Home,” I say. “After I pack up the rest of me and Myra’s things. I’ll get us an Uber so you don’t have to worry about bothering one of the drivers.”
“Hmmm.” He shuts the door. “Why?”
“Because I’m sure you’re pissed at me for getting involved at a level where I don’t belong, and you need time to process things, so—” My sentence ends on his lips.
As his mouth claims mine, he pushes the luggage handle from my hand, sending the suitcase to the floor.
The kiss deepens, wild and consuming, and then his hand slides up my thigh, pulling my skirt higher until there’s nothing between us but heat.
“Lucian—” I start, but the rest dissolves into a gasp as his mouth trails down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. His fingers slip beneath my lace, teasing, testing, until my body arches against his touch.
And then he replaces his hand with his mouth.
The first sweep of his tongue shatters me. My head falls back against the pillows, one hand tangling in his hair as the other fists in the sheets for balance. He holds me open, steady, relentless, devouring me like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can feed him. The heavy curtains muffle my broken cries, the dim lamplight catching on the sweat already slicking my skin.
Every flick of his tongue, every deep pull, builds higher and higher until my voice is echoing his name in pleas I can’t stop.
