Page 35 of Devilish Bully
“You don’t understand what I’m saying to you.”
“I understand perfectly.” Her voice shakes but doesn’t break. “You’re offering me more chains. And I’m saying no.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Don’t be arrogant.” She grabs the file back from the desk. “I don’t need your letter. I’ll find another way—without you.”
The finality in her voice rips through me like glass. I should stop her, tell her she can’t walk out on me, not now, not ever. But I don’t.
I watch as she slings her bag over her shoulder, her chin high, her eyes furious and shining. She doesn’t look back when she leaves, the door shutting behind her like a verdict.
For a long time, I stand there in the silence, the echo of her words still burning in the air.
Then I sit at the desk, staring down at the unsigned letter, and for the first time in years, I can’t focus on a single number in front of me.
—
WEEKS LATER
THE CEO
LUCIAN
Every morning since Kendall quit, my office door has turned into a slot machine. Every time I open it, I’m hoping for the jackpot—Kendall Clarke sitting at her desk like nothing happened. Instead, all I get are three blanks in a row.
This morning is no different. The door creaks open, my chest stupidly tightening with expectation—only for Brian to stroll in instead.
“Brian, can you let me know when I can expect Miss Clarke in today?”
“Huh?” He arches a brow. “Is there a new Miss Clarke you’ve hired recently?”
“Funny.” I shut my laptop. “Kendall Clarke.”
“She quit, sir.”
“No, she just said she was quitting,” I say. “She was just being irrational in the heat of the moment.”
“HR signed off on her resignation, and so did you…”
I blink. “I was just calling her bluff.”
“Well, I guess she was actually holding a royal flush,” he says. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“She’s not coming to our dinner with Worthington tonight?”
“I doubt it.”
“What about on a personal level?” I ask.
“Sir, I think you need to go home and rest,” he says. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“So, she really fucking broke up with me…” I arch a brow. “After she was in the wrong?”
“I’m going home.” He walks to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No, wait,” I say. “Come back here for a second.”
He shuts the door on his way out, leaving me alone.
