Page 45 of Deceived Wrath

"Seriously, you don't need to keep checking up on me," I snap the second the call connects.

"Are you sure about that? Because I have an angry investor on the phone that says otherwise."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the meeting you just blew off."

"What meeting?"

I put the call on speaker and load up my calendar on the monitor. I scan through everything I have scheduled for today. When I don't see the meetings I asked Fiona to reschedule for today, I frown.

She assured me she would take care of it.

I'm just about to make a note to reprimand her for making such a small mistake when I realize my error. "Oh, fuck."

All morning I've been looking at my schedule fornextFriday.

I quickly click through to the current day, and that's when I see it, front and center. The meeting with the Stratford Group.

"Yeah. Oh, fuck!" Kieran practically yells down the phone.

"It was an honest mistake."

"You're a Sullivan, we don't make mistakes."

"It will be easy enough to rectify."

"It doesn't matter. What you just did has set an impression of our company as being unreliable. That's not something you can just rectify, Cormac. I thought the whole point of you having an assistant was to take care of shit like this."

"You're the one who wanted me to hire an assistant! I never wanted one in the first place."

"So, you're saying this was her fault?"

I release a breath as I rub at my jaw. "No. It wasn't."

Kieran scoffs. "Unbelievable. If you can't handle the responsibility?—"

"I can handle it," I say through gritted teeth.

"Can you?"

"Yes."

"Don't make me regret making you CEO." He hangs up.

I tighten my grip on the phone, wanting nothing more than to launch it across the room.

I never asked for this position, and I'm starting to think Kieran only put me up for the job to prove that I'm the weak link of the family. And I'm not exactly doing a good job of proving him wrong.

A knock sounds at the door, and I bristle, the last of my patience evaporating. "What?"

The door tentatively opens, and Fiona appears, clutching a stack of paperwork.

"I have those client reports you asked for."

I frown, noticing the flush to her cheeks.

It's the same flush she had last night when I caught her outside my office.