Mr. Bossy Devil - Lindsey Hart Page 0,7

kind of at least semi-calmed down, is now so hard again, I can barely sit properly without the blood supply to my lower extremities being cut off.

Meanwhile, the glare Zoe is giving me could melt fucking concrete. It’s deadly, but it’s also hot.

“I…that’s…you can’t do that.” She deflates all at once, clearly not willing to risk other people’s livelihoods to make a point. “They have families, and some of them have worked here for decades.”

“All the more reason to change it up. Just as I said, fresh thinking often inspires innovation.”

“It’s security,” Zoe grinds. She’s obviously trying to keep her rage in check. “We’re already as cutting edge as it gets.”

I shake my head and make a tsk tsk noise with my teeth. “There’s always room for improvement.”

“There you go. I’m wrong, I’m too old fashioned, and I don’t have any good ideas. All the more reason to quit.”

“No, all the more reason to get some training. You don’t need to quit. What you need is a promotion. Maybe even think about switching to a different department. Something to change it up.”

“I like what I’m doing just fine. I have a great department and good staff. I’ve worked hard to be a fair supervisor and to make sure we’re doing the best we can at all times,” Zoe snaps. She realizes her mistake too late, and I know if she could kick her own ass right then and there, she would. I’d love to see her try.

“Well, then. Sounds like quitting isn’t an option.”

“It is. Because I can’t and won’t work for you.”

“Can’t? I’m not a monster. In fact, when the company does employee polling, they always rate high on happiness and are very satisfied with the opportunities for training, their pay, the benefits, their workload, and their work environment.”

“Only because if they didn’t mark satisfied, they’d probably get fired.”

“It’s anonymous. Of course.”

“Of course.” Zoe rolls her eyes. “And there is absolutely no way to find out who is unsatisfied. Come on. You work in tech. I’m sure there are ways.”

“Ways which I would never use.”

“Still.”

“Still.” I shrug. “Think whatever you will. I’m not here to change your mind. I am here to tell you that you’re not quitting. That’s final.”

“Final? Who are you to say what’s final and what’s not? You’re such a…such an…such an asshole! Wait, no, that’s too good for you. You’re cactus poop.”

“Cactus poop?” I must say, I’m surprised again. We haven’t talked about poop ratings since I was twelve. And there was one which we ranked cactus poop. I have to struggle really hard to hold back a smile. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Zoe’s eyes flash, and a pink flush creeps over her cheeks. “Yes, you do. I can tell. I told you that you’ve forgotten where you came from.”

“Unlike you, I still have my tattoo.” I hold up my palm. “And the scar here.” It’s true. A faint white line still runs across the upper part of my left palm, right where I cut it too deep with my dull jackknife. Yeah, I had to press really hard to get any cut at all, and I kind of slipped up at the end. It was about as gross and as painful as it sounds. I can say from experience that palms have a lot of nerve endings, and they take forever to heal.

“I…”

“You’re going to arrive at my house tomorrow night at six-thirty to discuss your role here and any future hopes and dreams you might have within the company and for the company? Sounds perfect. I’ll be waiting.”

Zoe backs up a step. Literally. She’s flustered now, and she’s looking to run. I also remember that about her. Her flight mode always did take precedence over any fight instincts. “I’m not coming to your house!”

“Alright. I’ll just have to fire…”

“Stop it!” Zoe’s hands ball into fists.

Maybe I was wrong about the fight instinct, and seeing her inner fire come to life is hot as fuck. Kind of literally, since my cock is throbbing again. It’s going to be a good half hour before I can safely leave this boardroom unless I use my bag and files and whatnot to cover my junk when I walk out. Even then, it would probably be pretty obvious what I was trying to hide, considering I’d have to hold it a foot away or risk damaging something. Mm, yeah, that’s not a risk I’m going to take. Ever.

“You’re such a prick,” she hisses.