Page 109 of Savage Bosses

Water Me

SAVAGE BOSSES

Lolah Lace

Chapter One

KYLE

T

he piercing sound of my obnoxious alarm shattered my restless sleep at 6 AM. I groaned, slamming my hand on the off button and squeezing my eyes shut. But sleep wouldn’t come again.

My mind was already spinning with thoughts of quarterly projections, new product launches, and employee issues. I had taken two weeks off to mourn the loss of my parents. I didn’t need two weeks, but the optics and the legalities forced it on me. People thought I was cold and heartless. They weren’t wrong, but I loved my parents. I was devastated, but I had to get back to work. As the owner, operator and CEO, I had to return, or the place could fall apart.

Sighing, I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, the hot water doing little to relax my tense muscles. I worked out too hard yesterday. I pushed myself too far. I’ve always been an early riser, even as a child, but lately, sleep had become more elusive. When you’re responsible for a multi-million dollar company and hundreds of employees, there’s always more work to be done.

After toweling off and dressing in one of my tailored designer suits, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My piercing blue eyes gazed back at me, hardened from years of responsibility. After college, I had founded and built FuSeWater with my father. I was the idea man, and he had the money. We made it into an international brand, but it had come at a cost. The company was my life, my everything, and I demanded the same level of dedication from my employees. I’d given ten years of my life to FuSeWater. I worked side by side with my father and now he was gone.

“Sir, your car is ready downstairs,” my housekeeper’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“On my way,” I barked, running a hand through my wet hair. I rode the private elevator downstairs and strolled to the gleaming marble foyer of my house. My driver, James, was waiting in the garage with the door of my Bentley open. James only worked a few days out of the week and on special occasions. I did enjoy driving and had plenty of cars to prove it.

“Good morning, Mr. Caldwell,” he greeted me. I merely grunted in response, sliding into the backseat. James knew better than to try to make small talk. I had work to do, emails to answer, and problems to solve. There was no time for idle chit-chat. He also knew I wasn’t in a talkative mood after burying my parents.

The short drive into the FuSeWater headquarters was spent responding to messages and reviewing sales projections. By the time James pulled into the garage where the executive parking spot was reserved for me, I felt the familiar anger simmering under my skin. If those projections didn’t start improving soon, heads were going to roll, just like Ed Stark.

Up the private elevator to the sixteenth floor, I smoothed the front of my suit jacket and placed my cell in my pocket. No briefcase, no computer bag, just me. I stepped out of the elevator to the reception desk. I never stopped here. There was no reason.

“Morning, Kyle,” a timid voice called out. Jenn, Jane, Jean, I didn’t know her name, leapt to her feet as I passed by. I gave a curt nod in response, not bothering to slow down or give her any actual eye contact.

My employees knew better than to engage me in idle chatter. To them, I was a dictator, but my success spoke for itself. And in this cutthroat world, there was no room for sentimentality. I was the bad guy and my father was the good guy. He’s gone now, and they’re left with me and they had to deal with it.

The receptionist was some young blonde placed there for clients as eye-candy. She didn’t do much but look pretty and greet clients and visitors. Her name wasn’t important, at least not to me. She had a job just as long as she didn’t fuck my brother. That was the quickest way to get fired.

My employees scrambled to attention when I strode through the open glass doors, their nervous gazes following me. They didn’t speak, and I didn’t bother giving them any attention. I walked by my brother Wesley’s office and he hadn’t arrived. He should’ve been here at 7AM. I was fed up with his bullshit, but he was family.

I turned the corner and ambled down the aisle, making a beeline for my corner office.

It was time to crack the whip. FuSeWater had risen to the top through grit and determination, not complacency, and I was determined to remind everyone of that. There were too many employees missing from the bullpen. I could see they were slacking off because I hadn’t been in-office for two weeks.

Right outside my office door, sitting at the desk, was a stranger. Where the fuck was Marjorie? I paid attention to detail and there was a young Black woman or African American, whatever they wanted to be called. She was sitting at Marjorie’s desk. I’d only been gone for two weeks and this.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded, my tone sharp. The woman looked up to meet my eyes. She was shocked but unafraid. She didn’t flinch, and her face didn’t change.

“Aerica Bolden,” she replied.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the new temp from Apex Staffing. It’s the start of my second week.”

“Is that so?” I studied her, taking in the simple gray pantsuit. Despite her unassuming appearance, she was striking, with shoulder-length black hair, dark brown eyes, and a no-nonsense expression.

“That is so.”

“Why are you at my admin’s desk?”

“I don’t know. This is where she told me to sit.”

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