Page 23 of Devilish Bully (Steamy Latte Reads Collection #3)
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.
Knowing that I never misread or miscalculate, I refuse to believe Kendall would walk away from me. She’ll never find anyone better, so this doesn’t make sense.
I scroll down to her name and hit call.
It doesn’t ring.
There’s only a harsh beep.
“Your number has been blocked by this user,” a message says.
I roll my eyes and pick up my desk phone, calling Kendall that way.
“Your number has been blocked by this user.” The message returns.
Groaning, I slip out into the hallway and request to use my receptionist’s phone.
It rings once.
It rings twice.
“Hello?” Kendall answers.
“Why would you block me, Kendall?” I ask. “That’s not very mature of you.”
“You’re the last person to teach anyone about the word mature.”
“Come to my office so we can talk.”
“I don’t have anything else to fucking say to you,” she hisses. “And the only two words I would ever want to hear from you are ‘I’m sorry.’”
“I’m not sorry.”
She ends the call, and I sigh and call right back.
“Your number has been blocked by this user.” The message returns.