Page 142 of The Re-Proposal

I step into the lobby. There’s a crowd in front of the elevator, but one look at my face and they part like the Red Sea.

“Why are you talking to me and not your security team?” Clay asks from the phone.

I step inside the elevator, slam the button and tilt my head up. “Because I’m going to need a new security team.”

“Cody…”

I hang up.

When I get upstairs, my receptionist shoots to her feet.

“Call ineveryguard on duty,” I growl, moving past her.

She rushes to pick up the phone.

I stride into the conference room and fold myself into the chair at the head of the table. My cold expression doesn’t break when the security guys knock on the door.

“Come in.”

They don’t.

They all bottle-neck the entrance, prodding each other to walk in first.

I remain quiet, staring straight ahead.

Ice King.I’ve heard the whispers. It’s no secret that my employees have a healthy dose of fear for me.

It’s deserved.

Especially in this case.

“You won’t like what happens if you waste any more of my time,” I growl.

The guards file in, each of them taking a chair.

I press my palms against the table and rise. “Are you aware of what just occurred in my parking lot?”

“S-sir.” The head of the team lifts a hand. “We alerted the police. Zalbany got a good look at the guy’s face. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get away with this.”

I chuckle low in my throat and watch grown men try not to piss their pants.

Leveling the team leader with my lifeless stare, I say, “Who’ll make sure he doesn’t get away. You?” I motion to the guard who first took chase. “Or you?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

I slam my fist against the table.

Everyone jumps.

“Do you know what I hate the most?” I hiss.

Crippling silence fills the room.

“It’s people telling me how sorry they areafterthe damage has been done. Does ‘sorry’ make anything better? Does sorry bring people back to life?”

The guard shakes his head.

I give them my back because I can’t stand the sight of incompetence. “Report to HR and hand in your badges.”

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