Page 151 of Forbidden You

My jaw ticks.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you and, frankly, it’s none of my business, but ever since she quit, you’ve been a tyrant to work for. I heard you yelling at every single one of your editors just now, and the boardroom is on the other side of the floor.”

It’s like I’m being scolded by my mother, and I hate it. Mostly because it fills me with an amount of guilt I’ve been trying to avoid at all costs.

“I’m too old to deal with a dictator,” she continues. “I like to come to work because I enjoy it, not because I feel a responsibility to comfort my co-workers every day. I’d really like it if you changed your behavior in the following weeks. If you don’t, I’ll find a place to work where I feel more comfortable.” With that, she gives me a curt nod, then prances off though I have no idea where to, leaving me standing there, stunned.

Everything is fucking falling apart, I swear.

The world has gone fuckingmad.

I shake my head while my chest heaves, and retreat into my office. Instead of slamming the door like I did in the boardroom, I close it softly before sauntering to my desk with a daze sitting in front of my eyes. My eyes burn as I take a seat, disgusted by my own behavior, and I bury my face in my hands.

Did she just threaten to quit? I can’t fucking lose anyone else.

If she’s gone, I might as well pack up and sell the entire business, because really what’s the fucking use?

What the fuck am I doing?

***

The next day, I’m sporting a hangover when I slog into my office, even though I haven’t drank a drop of alcohol.

It’s the one discipline I’ve been able to keep… not drinking my sorrows away, and becoming an alcoholic. Well, that, and I’ve been doing a good job at not answering Kayla’s phone calls, although they stopped right after the funeral.

I guess she’s finally done with me.

Mission accomplished.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I halt when I catch my best friend sitting behind my desk with his feet propped up on the surface. There is a smug grin on his face when he locks his eyes with mine and I feel like slapping it off. That will get me in trouble with Rae, though, and she’s already pissed enough as it is.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I scold.

“I heard this was the seat of the biggest asshole in the country. Figured I’d take my place.”

“Funny.” I pull out the chair in front of the desk and take a seat.

Jensen’s wearing a black and red Hurricane’s varsity jacket, his brown hair all prim and styled, but it’s the amused glint in his eyes that tick me off. Considering the last time I saw him, I pissed him off enough to take an earlier flight after my dad’s funeral, he shouldn’t be smiling right now.

But he is.

Bastard is up to no good.

“Agnes called me.”

“What the—” Of course she did. She shook me awake yesterday, but after she told me she was taking the rest of the week off, I should’ve seen something like this coming from a mile away.

“Oh, yeah,” he beams cynically. “Said you were storming through the office like a raging bull. Making everyone cry and all that shit. ”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t make anyone cry.” I think.

God, I hope I didn’t make anyone cry.

“What are you doing, Bodi?” Jensen puts his feet back on the floor, leaning forward on the desk. His gaze is etched with concern, creating a lump in my stomach because I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I just want everyone to fucking get off my back.

“Trying to run a company, but apparently I need to treat them all like porcelain dolls,” I sneer.

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