Page 22 of Devilish Bully (Steamy Latte Reads Collection #3)

THE CEO

LUCIAN

Back in Manhattan

The following weekend

Kendall is still flushed when she starts pulling her dress back on, her hair loose around her shoulders, her skin marked where my mouth had been a few minutes ago. I’m lying back, watching her, already thinking about pulling her down again, when she pauses at her bag.

She pulls out a file and places it on the desk. “I meant to give this to you yesterday,” she says. “Can you sign it? You don’t have to read much—I already wrote it. You’d just need to put your name at the bottom.”

I push myself upright, taking the file. “What’s this?”

“A reference letter.”

The words land sharper than they should. “For what?”

Her eyes flick to mine, guilty, hesitant. “I was planning to quit before.”

I stand. “Before what?”

She swallows. “Before sex. I still want to keep getting to know you, but… I know this promotion isn’t permanent.”

“It can be,” I say, the words coming out harder than I intended.

She shakes her head. “I’d like to do what I love. Numbers. Audits. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

I clench my jaw, looking down at the letter again. My name already printed neatly at the bottom, just waiting for a signature like she expects me to bless her exit.

“I’ll sign it a few months after the IPO,” I say flatly, setting it aside.

“I thought you were done with the IPO,” she says. “You said your father was right.”

“He was, but I still reserve the right to want to go public and cash in on all my hard work.”

“ Your hard work?” She scoffs. “You know what? Signing that reference letter right now would be for the best.”

Something inside me snaps. “You don’t get to walk away this easily. You wanted to play at being in my world, and now you think you can just hand me paperwork like I’m your HR assistant? No. That’s not how this works.”

Her cheeks flush with anger. “I didn’t want this world. I wanted to do my job, Lucian. You’re the one who dragged me into your office, your meetings, your bed. And now you’re acting like I owe you my future for it?”

“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.