Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
LOLA
I think I'm ready to kill Enzo.
Slowly and with great pleasure.
It has been almost a week, and it is lonely at the top.
I get my work done on time, and the job that Luke showed me is easy, made easier by the fact that apparently Enzo likes to handle it all himself.
Except...
He also wants me involved.
I pick up my phone, having worked straight through morning break. Not because I want to impress Enzo, but because I don't. My job has always been my number one priority here, and I try to do the best I can.
But I worked through my break because I needed to keep my mind off Alex. And off the whole tantalizing, thrilling event that night when I brazenly broke into someone's backyard and got myself off in their pool.
Brazen? More like filled with terror I would be caught. Anything approaching brazen was an act.
"Lola." Enzo snaps the leather cover on his iPad shut.
I jump.
"What do you think you're doing?"
I glare at him as he stalks up to me in my office/the reception area, and I slide my phone away.
"Nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing. It looks like you're wasting time on your phone."
I wasn't wasting time. Okay, maybe I was a bit.
I was checking to see if Alex had texted me, but other than him saying his business trip got super busy and he would be in touch when he could, I haven't heard from him.
And I try not to take it personally. I really do.
But it is hard.
Especially with Atilla the boss glaring at me.
"What?" Then I swallow. "What do you want?"
"What? What do I want?" he mimics. "I sent you an email asking you to come into my office ten minutes ago, and you haven't bothered to open it."
I look at my emails and frown. There is nothing from him there.
Then I look at the other screen for his appointments and such. And there is an email, nestled among the emails he told me not to open.
"If you sent it to my work email, I would have seen it." I remain as professional as I can. "Or you could have used the phone."
There is a beat of silence that says way too much.
"The phone you're using on work time?" Enzo asks.
I grit my teeth and try to smile, but I can't do it.
The report hasn't come in from the PI, and by now I'm hoping it is a fucking hit job on him. Although, when Silas called to give me an update Wednesday, he told me he doesn't have much so far, and nothing to warrant running and screaming from, but he will keep digging deeper.
I slap it on the desk. "I'm not using it. I happened to look at it."
"Keep your socials to your own time and your phone away, or I will confiscate said phone. My office. Now."
He turns and stalks off, his phone ringing.
He pulls it out and starts talking as if he is picking up in the middle of a conversation.
I half rise.
Does he want me in there now? Or after his call?
If he wants someone to take minutes, then I'm the wrong person for that. I don't do minutes. I don't even know what it means.
Shit, I don't even know if people take minutes anymore.
I put my hands on my desk and practice slow breathing.
He pokes his head out of his office, phone away from his ear, and says to me, "What part of now don't you understand, Lola?"
God, I want to boil him in oil. And it doesn't help that beast mode suits him on some level. It gives him a hate-sex edge that I'm both drawn to and repelled by.
Repelled because how can I be attracted to him on the level of thinking of sex when I don't like him?
"Lola?"
Blinking hard, I blow out my breath. "I heard you. Do I need anything?"
He takes me in with long, slow contemplation, and flames lick up inside me. "Why, what did you have in mind?"
How that sounded like pure kinky sex is beyond me, but the dark throbs inside me as my panties dampen.
"Nothing at all." I cross to his office and go in, taking a seat on the other side of the desk from him.
He continues on his call. It is filled with silences, rapid-fire words about some business deal, and I tune out.
I honestly don't care about the market or what anything is worth in shares.
But I do some saintly work by sitting and waiting.
At least he is giving me reasons to find another job. But then again, bad bosses are everywhere, and I can't claim it is because of the pressure or that he was mean...
I slowly realize he has stopped talking, and now he is looking at me.
I blink as I return the stare. "Mr. Marino—"
"Call me Enzo. Everyone fucking does here because I told them to. And that was in an email I sent to your work account."
Heat starts to burn in my cheeks, and I put my hands on the edge of his desk. "I..."
"You only answer and open emails about your projects? Is that right?"
I don't mistake the gentleness for kindness as I nod.
His tone turns dangerous. "I'm the CEO, Lola. You open every email from me. Every single one. Including those to you from my computer to the personal assistant computer. You get me?"
I swallow. "Y-yes, Mr. Ma—Enzo."
"Good. Now, I need this report done this afternoon. It is a transfer, and it is important. So, try not to fuck it up like you did with the one yesterday."
Glaring at him, I narrow my eyes. "I did it exactly how I was trained to do it."
"I saw. But did I not spend an hour showing you how to do it for me and the way I want it done?"
"Yes."
"And yet, you did it the other way."
I nod. "The other way is more efficient."
"So, you defy me?" He taps his hand on the edge of the desk.
"If I do my regular work your way, then—"
"What? They will still understand it, and it is more efficient. Fewer mistakes."
My hand balls into fists. "I don't make mistakes."
"Do it how I asked you to. And get this one done by this afternoon. Three p.m."
"Yes, sir."
"And, Lola?"
I look at him. "Yes?"
"Did you help your father by just doing things how you wanted?"
Streaks of heat pass through me, and I'm on my feet so fast my head spins. "You don't mention him, understand?"
But Enzo leans back in his chair and watches me with naked interest. "I think I'm your boss, so I can ask that."
I'm placid. Normally.
I like to keep to myself. Mostly.
I'm not violent. At least, I never thought I was, but he makes me want to launch myself at him and pummel him. Scratch out his eyes. Plunge the decorative letter opener on the desk into his chest.
Of course, I don't do anything of the latter.
But the rest?
I growl low and lean on his desk. "You might be my boss, but the history between our families should stay that—history.
" What am I doing? I make myself straighten up.
Step back. "And if you must know, no. I didn't help Dad do anything.
I don't even really know much of what he did, except do jobs for turncoats and criminals like you and your father. "
His eyebrows rise. He places a hand on his heart. "I wasn't that old when they fell out, Lola."
"Older than me."
"True, but do I look like I'm dabbling in bad shit?"
Before I can say a word, he holds up a hand.
"Forget it."
I just glare at him.
"And, Lola, whether you learned to do things from your father, a stranger on the street, or someone else here, it is irrelevant. As long as you work for me, you do it my way."
I swallow over the lump in my throat, over the fire and anger and resentment that makes the backs of my eyes hurt.
"Yes... sir." And I turn and walk to the doors.
I'm almost there when he speaks.
"Where the fuck are you going, Lola?"
"To do the work you want me to do, sir."
He smiles slow, sexy, smug.
I want to smack it off his stupidly good-looking face.
"We still need to go over what I called you in here for. So, turn around and sit down."
"Yes, sir."
The smile grows.
It is going to be a long, horrible day.
The meeting he calls me into with him is nothing more than a flex. He is in control. He is pulling the strings.
And my brain tries to escape numerous times as he tells me how to do my job.
I know how to do it.
Even the way he wants it done isn't rocket science.
But I bite down on the sighs, stop the eye rolls, and listen, and when it is done, I breathe out my relief and get to work.
It is mundane, but I do all my tasks like he asked me to, and then I start more of the data entry and funds transfer tasks he set me.
I also go over it all.
I don't understand him. I don't need to be up here. I don't need the promotion...though the money is good. Because it is like he did all that and is now being extra hard on me, like he wants to prove to me that just because we once knew each other as kids, I'm not getting special treatment.
But as lunch approaches, I stop.
Something is wrong with the transfer I'm working on, and I go over it all to make sure it is not me.
It isn't.
Numbers aren't matching.
I reach for my phone because I want to look something up to do with the company the transfer is with. It is their money coming to us, but while the surface looks good, hidden in the center are some fudged numbers.
Maybe it is a mistake, but I could see it getting lost, and I want to know about their reputation.
I'm not a banker, I'm not an accountant, but something feels...off.
Enzo's voice comes from ahead of me. "What the fuck did I say about phones?"
I scream and drop my phone.
"How not suspicious at all." A muscle in his jaw twitches as he holds out his hand for it. "Keep your personal shit to your personal hours."
"I'm not giving you my phone."
"You are. And I warned you."
Panic flares.
What if he looks at my messages, sees the ones from Alex?
God. What if he sees the photos?
I don't think and slam my heel down on my phone, the screen crunching beneath my force.
Enzo stares at me like I lost my mind.
I probably would, too.
It is about now that common sense rushes in.
How would he see if my phone is locked? He couldn't.
And as we stare at each other, I can see that maybe killing my phone was a tiny overreaction. Okay, maybe a major one.
He looks at me like I'm a total nutjob.
Heat radiates off my face.
"You smashed your phone?" He sounds amused. "To avoid what?"