Page 6 of Devilish Bully
I don’t regret much about how I run this company. But if I’d done things my father’s way, I would’ve met Kendall Clarke years ago—and I wouldn’t still be thinking about her now.
I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women in my life, but never thought about any of them minutes after meeting them.
Let alone hours…
I’m still envisioning long auburn hair falling past her shoulders in waves, deep brown eyes that didn’t wither under any of my stares. The way her grey skirt clung to her hips was distracting in a way that had no place in my office, and those stilettos… sharp, precise, the kind of detail that pulled my thoughts somewhere they had no business going.
Then there was her mouth. Christ. Bow-shaped, defiant, every word out of it more temptation than professionalism. Exactly the kind of detail that makes me forget what the hell I was about to say—and I hate that she has that effect on me.
Okay. Maybe meeting her any earlier would’ve been a distraction.
“Miss Clarke is very well-liked and doesn’t have any infractions on her record.” Brian rattles off the deep-dive research I requested. “And, uh, it looks like she was handling the previous auditor’s work and running things whenever he slacked off on deadlines.”
“In that case, she should’ve been fired with him, correct?”
He shoots me a pointed look.
“I’m just trying to figure out how an entire department is years behind,” I say. “And also—how I’m just now finding this out.”
“Miss Clarke submitted a suspected fraud to Human Resources on Garrett.” He hands me a printed pink sheet. “You fired him before they could look into him, though.”
“Is it too late to look into this now?”
“I’ll get a private auditor on it.”
“Thank you.”
He starts to walk away, but I clear my throat.
“Where the hell are you going, Brian?”
“To get started on the auditing report… right?”
“Wrong.” I gesture for him to take a seat. “I need to hear everything else you’ve found on Miss Clarke.”
He blinks.
“Previous employers, references, everything.”
“Do you really need me to read over that now?”
“Yes.” I pick up my whiskey. “Right now.”
—
TWENTY-ONE DAYS LATER
THE ACCOUNTANT
KENDALL
I’m convinced there are only three types of assholes in this world: the ones who take a class and learn how to be one, the ones who are naturally born with it baked into their DNA, and Lucian Pearson.
And I’m pretty sure he’s ranked number one.
As if I needed a personal countdown clock, he’s invaded my inbox three times a day since we met with the same subject line: Rough Reminder: Quarterly Report.
It’s as if he thinks seeing his name flash on my screen will somehow make me work faster.
