Page 6 of Devil In A Suit, Vol. 2

As I ride the elevator up to his floor, I begin giving myself a pep talk like an Olympic athlete. I give my arms and legs a little shake like I’m standing at the starting line of a race. In and out. Drop the folder, turn, grab the elevator before it can close, jump in, gone. It’s that easy.

As soon as the doors begin to slide open, I burst out, crossing the outer office in just a few steps. Alec is away from his desk, which means no chit chat to slow me down.

Yes.

I’ll just leave it on his desk and never have to so much as see Jared.

I reach out to drop the folder onto the leather desktop mat and grab a sticky note to let him know that it came from Robert.

As I’m bent over the desk, writing quickly, I hear a door open behind me and my mouth goes dry.

A throat clears.

I whirl around just in time to make direct eye contact with The King himself. If he’s surprised to see me, he betrays it not at all. It’s like there’s a glass wall between us, and nothing can penetrate.

He glances around the outer office quickly, and when he sees I’m the only one there, he huffs out a little sigh, then turns back to me.

“I need coffee,” he says, his face completely blank. At this moment he’s acting as if he couldn’t pick me out of a lineup, like I might as well be a temp sent over from some anonymous agency. “Three Splendas.”

And then he steps back into his office and his door slams shut. No please. No thank you. Not even a question mark. An order.

That’s all I get. A coffee order like I was working at a drive thru window.

I’m shaking as I rise from my desk and make my way to the break room, a journey barely a hundred steps down the hall. I clench my fists as I wait for the coffee machine to fill the paper cup, then reach into the cabinet for the Splenda. But there are only two yellow packets anywhere in the break room. I give myself a few minutes to search, but when I come up empty, I take the cup of coffee and head back.

I’m shaking with equal parts anxiety and rage as I head toward his office.

When I get to his door, I take a deep breath to try and simmer down to at least the temperature of the hot coffee in my hand, then I give his door a cursory knock as I enter.

He’s behind his desk flipping through a stack of files. His jacket is off, the sleeves of his tailored dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. I try not to look at the tanned skin, the dark hair on his arms making him look even more manly and powerful. I quickly flick my eyes to the wall of windows behind him, where I have a perfect view of the Charles River and Cambridge beyond.

“Coffee,” I say, holding out the cup in one hand, the Splenda in the other. He looks at it like I’ve just tried to offer him a cup full of toilet water. He appears to have no idea how angry I am, or that his decision to dismiss me had any affect at all. And he doesn’t appear to care. The silence hangs heavy between us, and I know what’s coming, because I know how Jared King operates.

“I said three Splenda,” he says, his voice a cold, sharp steel knife cutting through the silence. “It was a simple task.”

The words hit me like a slap, my veins pulsing ice cold. I go rigid for a moment, a thousand options running through my brain. How dare he act as if I’m incapable.

The rage bursts out of me like a geyser. I slam the cup down onto the center of his desk with so much force that half the coffee overflows onto his desk, sending a tiny waterfall of coffee down into his lap. He jumps back, his chair rolling across the rug, his hands raised as he avoids the hot liquid.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says, his voice surprisingly controlled. But his eyes are burning with anger.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking!” I snap. “What the hell am I doing taking this shit from you?”

His face jerks towards mine, and I see something on his face I’ve never seen before.

Surprise. I’ve managed to surprise Jared King.

Oh, but I’m not even close to done.

“Last I checked, both your legs were in proper working order, so why don’t you get your own goddamn coffee?” I say, remaining rooted to the floor in front of him. I cross my hands over my chest.

His eyes flicker to my cleavage and then back to meet my gaze once more.

He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“You know why? Because you’re so used to treating everyone like they’re beneath you that it’s practically second nature. You bark orders like we’re all mindless drones, like we don’t deserve respect,” I say, matching his cold, cutting way of speaking. It feels good to channel him in this way, throwing it right back in his face. And now that I’m warmed up, I can’t stop. “You know what? I was absolutely right when I said you were coldhearted and cruel. In fact, I was holding back in that email. You’re also a selfish, entitled man whore with no respect for anyone around you, and frankly I don’t give half a damn if you want to fire me for saying so.”

When I finish, my heart is racing and my chest heaving. At this point I’m just waiting for him to throw me out. I’ll be lucky if I get to leave without security escorting me, but at this second I don’t care. It feels so good to yell at him, to tell him exactly what I’m thinking.