Page 24 of Reluctantly You

It makes me more angry, pissed even.

The little shit.

I knew who he was the moment I met him and even before that. When his dad told me all about his son, listed off all his bad qualities.

He never deserved the position.

I admit I fucked up when I promoted him.

And now I see why. He seems to lack motivation, seems to lack the drive it takes to get to the top. He should have never been made director. He should have never been given a job here at all. No one has anything good to say about him. No one even knows him.

But then again, he’s Daddy’s boy. Although, perhaps not so much. Not if his father sold this company out from underneath him, without even informing him.

I did like watching Mitchell’s face when I told him.

It was the disappointment of a boy realizing he’s going to have to actually work for what he gets. That he will no longer be handed everything on a silver fucking platter.

I don’t feel sorry for Mitchell Morris. I loathe him.

My fingers loosen and leave his neck. He’s left sagging against the wall, his chest moving up and down in deep breaths.

“So now that you’re done throwing your tantrum. I’d like to talk to you about your work performance.”

His eyes, never having left mine, widen slightly. He wets his lips and straightens up, the bulge in his trousers unmistakable.

But like fuck I’d ever touch him. Not like that.

And anyway, it seems he has someone for that. A little twink named Kyle. Or perhaps a variety of them. Not that I fucking care. He can meet whoever he wants as long as it’s not on company time. I won’t be paying for him to have his dick sucked. I refuse.

“I have places to be,” he says, and I scoff.

“Like the gym? Where you can stare at other men while they try to work out?”

“I don’t do that.”

But he does. I saw the way he looked at me in my swimsuit. Not that I reciprocated. Mitchell does nothing for me.

Nothing.

“The only place you need to be is here. With me. We have things to discuss if you’re going to continue working here.”

His cheeks go red once more, and I can see the steam billowing off him.

God, I want to fire his worthless ass.

“Let’s take a seat,” I say, gesturing toward his desk.

He scoffs. “I’ll fucking stand.”

I stare at him. Unbelievable. The gall he has to act like this when I’ve been more than lenient with his appalling behaviorand work ethic. When I tried to make this work, tried to be reasonable. He’s left me no choice.

“Fine,” I say and then lay into him.

“I’m writing you up for your work performance. Since starting here, I’ve seen that it’s been subpar at best.”

He turns to look away from me, his cheeks still flushed with anger. His fists are balled up at his sides and he stands before me like a petulant child.

“You’ve been late to work, refused to attend my meetings, and have done sloppy work. Not to mention the blow job you were getting on company time.”

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