Chapter 12
Jeremiah
Despite contract hours, this was what I expected of my employees. It was why making a first impression was so important. If people didn’t fear me, they wouldn’t perform. From the looks of it, I had succeeded with my first impression.
I strode down the long hallway toward my office, people’s voices hushing as I walked past, making the sound of my footsteps fill my ears. I stopped short when I saw Sadie wasn’t at her desk.
What. The. Fuck.
Her purse wasn’t in its usual spot on the floor.
Her laptop wasn’t even opened. There was no coffee on her desk.
She wasn’t here. I stretched my fingers in irritation before stepping into my office and sitting down in my office chair.
The absence at her desk was even more noticeable as it was directly across from me, making my irritation grow even more.
I needed her this morning. My schedule was jam-packed.
She should know that, since she had access to my entire life’s schedule.
I impatiently drummed my fingers on the smooth surface of my desk before turning my computer monitor on.
Once the screen glowed brightly, I opened up my calendar to review it myself.
Each minute that ticked past, and every meeting and task my eyes skimmed over, I could feel the heat rising to my face.
This. Is. Bullshit.
I was about ready to call Sadie and tell her not to bother coming in, but then she walked in, making me slam down my office phone. It was 8:30. She sat down at her desk, placing her purse on the veined gray floor. and reached for her laptop without so much as a look in my direction.
Before she could even open her laptop, I barked, “Sadie. Get in here.”
She looked up at me suddenly before standing from her chair.
She walked quickly toward my office and my eyes looked over her outfit in irritated disgust. If she was going to arrive after me, she should at least look good doing it.
Why be late if you’re going to look like that?
I didn’t know what the hell she was wearing today.
A pair of ill-fitting pants and a too-big sweater. Neither did anything for her.
Stupid fucking ugly sweater. That was all I could think as she stepped into my office.
“Nice of you to show up,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” she asked.
“Sit,” I ordered her, ignoring her question.
She took the seat furthest away from me, crossing her legs in those hideous black pants.
Why did she dress like she wants to be invisible?
It was like she had no respect for herself or her beauty.
Beauty I had seen firsthand. All of it. In its bare, brazen glory.
Not only had I seen it, but I’d kissed it.
Tasted it. Consumed it. Now, seeing her like this, it just pissed me off even more.
“D-did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
She looked scared. So scared, I had to avert my gaze from her wide green eyes that searched for answers from me.
I knew I was no saint. I knew I was the big, bad Mr. Mason.
But she’d been working with me for a week.
I thought she would be used to it by now.
Seeing how she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, I could see her unease around me.
I didn’t like it. To be the cause of such unease did something foreign to my chest and what beat inside of it.
Did she think I was really that terrible?
I knew I hadn’t made her life easy working for me, but that was just the nature of the job.
I couldn’t feel bad for it. I was the CEO.
I wasn’t here to make anyone comfortable.
My business ventures thrived off of fear.
I reminded myself of that as I forced myself to look at her, ignoring the hairline crack in my chest. I tried to ignore the way she nervously fiddled with her fingers in her lap.
“Why are you late?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and folding my hands on my desk.
“L-late?” she asked, looking around the room for a clock. Her eyes found one to the right of her, sitting on the large bookshelf against the wall. “It’s eight-thirty-two…”
I followed her gaze to the clock and looked sharply back at her.
It grated me that she was no longer trying to impress me like she was last week by coming in the early morning hours.
From what I had gathered from security, she had shown up at seven a few times last week.
Maybe she had grown comfortable with underperforming.
Had I been too soft on her? I would have to remind her exactly who I was.
“From now on, I want you here at eight a.m. Not a minute later. Understood?” I asked sharply.
She bit her lip, a nervous and distracting habit. I let my eyes dip momentarily before snapping them back up to hers. It looked like she wanted to say something. God. Did I have to coax every little thing out of her? I looked at her, impatience clearly etched on my face.
“Since I’ll be coming in an hour early, does that mean I get to go home at four?” she asked, her voice meek.
I let out a laugh. She had to be messing with me. Since when did this woman ask for anything? And since when did anyone ask for anything of me? Her face remained neutral, awaiting an answer from me. I stopped laughing when I realized she wasn’t joking.
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“I am.”
I let out a breath through my nose and narrowed my eyes, feeling my face begin to heat.
“You know, this is why you’ve never been promoted.”
“And why is that, exactly?”
“Because you’re looking for shortcuts.”
“That’s not true,” she blurted out, her hands curling into fists.
I struck a nerve. Something I was used to doing by now. Each time I did, I learned something new about her. It was like a game, seeing how far I could push her.
“Isn’t it?” I cocked my head. “Tell me, why haven’t you been promoted? I looked at your file. You’ve never so much as gotten a raise in the five years you’ve worked here.”
“Maybe it’s because, based on what I overheard between you and the managers last week, anyone with a shred of power in this place is an arrogant asshole,” she said, her voice raised.
“Excuse me?” I asked coolly, trying to hide the fact that I was both impressed and turned on. With the way she was talking to me, I was ready to leave another handprint on her ass.
“And you…” she continued.
“What about me?”
“You and your impossible standards. If you expect someone to go above and beyond for you, then you should pay a wage that matches their efforts.”
I sat back and let her words absorb. She hadn’t exactly asked me for a raise, but may as well have.
And according to her file, she was due for one.
More than one. This was probably the first time she had ever brought it up.
I hardly knew anything about her, but this felt like a first for her. I wasn’t about to shoot her down.
“Fine,” I growled. “You get a raise starting today. Twenty-five percent.”
She looked taken aback before gathering her wits.
I leaned forward, placing the palms of my hands on the desk and narrowing my gaze. “But it means I’m going to work you harder. And if you drop the ball, it’s immediate termination. You want more money, you earn it.”
She stared back at me, her expression unreadable now, but then a heat rose in her eyes.
A seething fire danced against the emerald green.
There was anger there. White-hot anger. Seeing her like this sent a thrilled shiver up my spine, and I was thankful for the desk that stood between us as my pants grew tighter.
This girl.
She was going to keep me on my toes. One minute, I was disgusted by her choice in frumpy clothes, and the next I was internally begging to see what was underneath them.
She was powerless one minute, and demanding the next.
She was driving me insane, and because of it, all I wanted was to make her mine.
It was maddening. And all this because of one night alone with her.
“Fine,” she said without so much as a thank-you, when I knew damn well it was more than the raises she’d earned combined. Whatever. It was no skin off my back. I had plenty of money to give, but only if the person earned it.
“Now”—I averted my gaze back to my computer—“this is what I need you to do within the next hour…”
She reached for a pad of paper and a pen from my desk. I rattled off a to-do list that easily took up two pages. She frantically took notes, her scribbles growing more sloppy with each task.
“Did you get all that?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Good. I need that done in the next hour.”
“The next hour?” she stammered.
“You want that raise?” I reminded her.
She let out a breath as she met my challenging stare. She bit back what I’m sure was a venomous string of words, embers still flaring in her eyes. I swallowed hard, feeling myself growing even harder under her heated gaze.
“Now go,” I said, practically shooing her out of my office.
Sadie stood, her hands gripped tightly around the legal pad in her hands.
She walked out the door without a word. I watched her through the open door as she sat at her desk, immediately dialing numbers and talking quickly.
She was frazzled and all over the place, but her looks were even more distracting.
I pressed the palms of my hands against the leg of my pants and smoothed out the fabric that strained against me.
This was a problem, and I didn’t have a cold shower as an option to remedy this.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the situation concealed by my desk.
Her working for me was going to be a disaster, in more ways than one.
I tried to focus on the files on my desk, but my thoughts kept drifting to her.
I had so many questions. For one, how had she even survived this long living in Manhattan on the salary she had prior today?
The building we lived in was definitely not in her budget.
I might have owned the most expensive unit in the place, but I could guess the other units weren’t cheap either.
The rent of living in that place was obscene. I shook my head. It didn’t make sense.
Then I had a thought.
Maybe Sadie had some sort of side hustle to keep up with the cost of living in the heart of Manhattan.
I wondered what it could be as I watched her type on her laptop.
She needed to remember her responsibilities were here.
Whatever else it was she was doing, she would have to drop it if she wanted to continue to work here.