Page 5 of Devilish Bully
“I said, for two years.”
“I don’t think that’s what you said at all.”
“Itwas.”
His lips curve into a slow smirk, though he doesn’t let it stay.
“When I send an email, I expect one of two things,” he says. “One, an immediate response or the completed work. So tell me why I don’t have six months’ worth of reports on my desk.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Care to share it?”
“It’s…complicated.”
“I think I’m intelligent enough to understand.” He rises to his feet, and the shift in height forces me to tip my chin up. “Start talking.”
“The last manager didn’t keep the best records and the guy before him was worse.” I pause as he steps closer, his cologne drifting between us—spicy, dark, and impossible to ignore. My throat tightens at how close he is. “Even though I’ve been here two years, I’ve got six years behind on records, because I’m trying to make sure everything is in perfect condition ahead of the IPO.”
“So you do realize I need this in three weeks, not three years?”
“I’m aware that I’m trying my best to get it done.”
“Let me rephrase.” His voice drops, sharper now, but the edge makes my pulse race. “In three weeks, the reports will be in my inbox. Yes or no?”
“I can’t predict the future, Mr. Pearson.”
“Well, I can predict afiring.” His gaze drags down, then back up, lingering for a beat too long before meeting my eyes again. “Twenty-one days. Reports in my inbox. Or you’re gone.”
I nod, not wanting to press my luck any further.
He steps back and pushes aside the “Hell on Earth” picture on my desk, revealing a private staff game:Pin the Horns on Satan.
He picks up the heavily pinned cork board that features his face, his jaw tightening as he studies it.
“I’ll hold onto this,” he says. “You clearly have too much free time.”
Stay still, Kendall. Don’t let him see the See You in Hell game on the far wall… Stay still.
His green eyes linger on mine a moment longer, heavy and unreadable, his lips parting as if he’s about to say something else—something he shouldn’t. But instead, he turns on his heel and walks away.
The moment the glass doors slide shut, my coworkers slowly return to the room—one by one—as if their blatant abandonment wasn’t on purpose.
“So…” Mindy hands me a cup of coffee. “How did it go?”
“He really is Satan.”
“What do we need to do?”
“Prepare for some serious overtime.”
“For every night this week?”
“Yeah, includingtonight…”
THE CEO
LUCIAN
