Page 2 of Hollow House
I kept my head down, did my work, and steered clear of him when I could. All I needed was enough in my portfolio to apply to the bigger magazines, my ticket out of this small town.
Right now, though, I was stuck in the cheap office chair on the opposite side of his desk, uncomfortably shifting beneath his glare. I fidgeted with my V-neck sweater, trying to shift it to deter his wandering eyes, but they immediately dropped to my thighs exposed by the black miniskirt I wore.I cursed under my breath, wishing I was bundled up more.
“It’s time for your performance review,” he said, folding his hands on his desk.
“It’s October?” I questioned. “Isn’t that in another two months?”
“I’m doing an impromptu one for you,” he said with a shrug.
“Is that even legal?” I muttered.
“First part of your review: lacks respect for authority. You need to get a grip on this attitude you carry around the office.”
My hands clenched into firsts beside me, my ass sliding to the edge of the seat, ready to storm out. I didn’t have to put up with this insanity.
“Secondly, your performance lately has been lackluster,” he added.
“Excuse me?” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
“Lackluster,” he clicked, exaggerating with his tongue.
I cringed into the seat, wishing I could bleach my mind. Fucking creep.
“I complete all my work on time, I’ve taken on extra projects, and I have had zero negative feedback,” I started.
“You play it safe,” he said with another shrug. “There’s nothing spectacular about that.”
I almost growled, the low noise forming deep in my throat. The man who sat on his ass all day and harassed women for fun was critiquing my work product?
Fuck, no.
“We’re done here,” I said firmly as I stood.
“Sit,” he ordered, his tone impatient.
I stared him down, my skin on fire at the demand.
I didn’t sit, but I didn’t leave.
“One call to management, and you’re gone,” he hissed. “Don’t be an ungrateful bitch. I’m trying to help you.”
The smug smile on his face made me want to punch him square in the middle of it. Instead, I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. A single deep breath was enough for me to realize he’d follow through on the threat. The turnover in our department was proof enough.
“What do you want me to do?” I gritted out, still standing.
“Be a bit more interesting,” he suggested.
“How do you expect me to do that?”
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his short brown hair. The movement caused his shirt to rise and stomach to poke out a bit from the bottom. He raised a brow at me, and it took seconds of me staring blankly at him to realize what he was suggesting.
He couldn’t be serious…
“The most successful women here do what it takes to get to the top,” he said, his hand moving toward his zipper.
“I’m not—" I started.
“The miniskirts you wear, the slutty pink strands in that long, dark hair,” he said, his gaze turning predatory. “You’ve been practically begging me to notice.”
