Page 89 of Brutal

My smile turns into a nasty sneer. I can feel it, and I can see from the way she’s looking at me that she’s figured out I’m on to her fucking game.

“When’s the board meeting, Caroline?” I reach down, closing the lid of her laptop.

Caroline startles, and says, “It got rescheduled. Too many people had conflicts, so?—”

“Bullshit,” I say, smiling widely. “You think I started a fucking IT-based company without knowing how to check deleted files? You fucking deleted it from the calendar, Caroline.”

Her lip wibbles. “Then you know when the meeting is.”

“I do,” I agree. “I was just waiting to see if you would fess up.”

She stares at me, and I see it when the desperation tips her hand completely. “I didn’t want to do it, Mr. Brutal. I swear. I?—”

I shove the picture at her. “Go home to your family, Caroline. And don’t bother coming back.”

Caroline continues to gawp at me. “What? You can’t?—”

“It’s my company!” I shout, unable to keep the anger at bay any longer. “I started it, I own it, and I will not let some secretary on a power trip jeopardize my entire life’s work.” I stand up, looming over her, and she quickly stands and backs away. “You could’ve come to me,” I snarl. “I’d have paid you twice what those weasels were paying you.”

Maybe.

Or maybe I’d have fired her anyway.

Caroline grabs her purse and slides her chair away from the desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brutal. They said?—”

I walk around the desk and grab the chair, shoving it toward the door. “Get the fuck out of here!”

She runs. She’s in some stiletto heels, but she fucking runs to the elevator.

I don’t feel better as I watch her go.

After an hour of revoking Caroline’s access to every fucking thing in the company — and putting her digital fingerprints everywhere they shouldn’t be — I roll my shoulders and stand up.

Fuck her.

Fuck them.

Fuck all of them.

I ignore the security guard on my way out, and he must see the thunderclouds on my expression because he doesn’t even try to wish me a good night like he normally does.

I get into my car, slamming my fists onto the steering wheel, and for a moment, I debate not even going home. I could just go to a bar and get smashed; I could go to a club and find something to take, anything, that would get my mind off of all of this.

In the end, I decide to break every single traffic law on my way back to the condo, only surprised to find that I didn’t cause any accidents and that I didn’t have a single instance of sirens and flashing lights behind me by the time I get there.

I almost wish I had, even though I know that’s stupid as fuck. I don’t need to get into it with a cop. I may have friends on the force, but that would change real quick if I got into an altercation with one of their own.

I dread going upstairs and seeing Mimosa, hearing her voice and having her attitude grate on my nerves.

I don’t really trust myself with her right now.

I don’t trust myself with anyone, but with her, it’s somehow worse.

I ignore the clerk at the front desk, continuing to the elevator and heading up to my penthouse. There are no boxes of toys this time, no gifts for Mimosa that make my heart beat harder and leave me wondering if I’m really that adventurous.

All I can think about is her refusal to be what I want her to be… And the fact that she wouldn’t let me say three little words I’d never uttered before in my life.

Maybe they were too soon, and maybe I don’t know if this is lust or love or something else, but she could’ve at least humored me.