Page 5 of Devilish Bully (Steamy Latte Reads Collection #3)

THE ACCOUNTANT

KENDALL

I wake up groggy on the couch, head pounding, and the first thing I see is Myra in the kitchen, blending some kind of pink concoction.

“What are you doing up so late, Myra?”

“Late?” She furrows her brow. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning, Aunt K. I’m making you a hangover drink since you have to be out of it…”

I glance at the windows, seeing only dark grey skies. “Funny. What time is it really?”

“10:05.”

My head hurts too much for early morning jokes, so I pick up my phone. 10:06.

OH. MY. GOD.

I leap up from the cushions and shove all the files into my briefcase.

Rushing to the bathroom, I take the fastest shower of my life, hoping the suds will wash the tinge of alcohol from my pores.

Drying off, I slip into a black dress and twist my hair into a topknot bun.

Trying not to hyperventilate, I make sure I have my badge and clearance before heading back to the kitchen.

“Here you go, Aunt K.” Myra hands me the bottle. “It’s kale, coconut water, banana, and almond milk. Oh, and here’s some dry toast to help, too.”

“Thank you, Myra.”

“I also ordered you an Uber while you were sleeping,” she says. “I told him to stay put and you’d pay extra for making him wait.”

“You really are the best, you know that?”

“Am I ‘best’ enough for you to not get mad about me telling the babysitter not to come today?”

“I’m going to let it slide…”

She gives me a hug. “Good luck at the all-hands meeting. Hopefully it’s not as bad as the last one.”

I kiss her forehead and step out into a drizzling and dreary Manhattan. A driver steps out of a grey sedan and opens the back door for me.

“You’re heading to Pearson Industries, correct?”

“Yes.” I slide into the backseat.

His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “I’ll get you there as fast as I can, Miss.”

“Don’t bother.” I sip my drink. “At this point, just take your time…”

The auditorium looks like it was modeled after an opera stage, as if Mr. Pearson wanted to compete for “most gaudy headquarters.”

Exhaling, I push the doors open and step inside, seeing that—thankfully—the meeting is already halfway done.

The board members—the “soulless ghouls” as we call them—are lined up onstage next to an oversized screen flashing recaps about the IPO we already know by heart.

Finding Mindy, I move past a few interns and slide into a seat beside her.

“I was just about to call the police to do a wellness check on you,” she whispers. “You alright?”

“Barely,” I mutter. “How is this so far?”

“Super fascinating. I’m learning so much.” She holds up her phone, a game glowing on the screen.

Perfect.

“Now for the big reveal that you’re all waiting for!” The lead board member, Penelope, squeals like this is actually exciting.

“After collecting and cataloging surveys from all of you here on the main campus—which is, wow —fifteen hundred employees, we can reveal Mr. Pearson’s overall score for morale. Mr. Pearson, could you join us onstage please?”

He rises from the front row, and even after twenty-one days, he looks better than in every fantasy I’ve had since.

The lights catch on the broad lines of his shoulders, on the perfect cut of his dark grey suit, the sharp line of his jaw.

Heat pulses low, sharp and fast, and I squeeze my thighs together as he glances at the crowd.

And just like that, my mind betrays me—dragging me back to the image I’ve been replaying night after night.

His hands pinning me to my desk, that mouth against my throat, his voice low and rough as he demanded I answer him with “yes, sir.” I shift in my seat, trying to focus on the stage, but the memory of his body against mine won’t let me.

I blink hard, willing myself to stay in the present, but all I see is the way his suit would look discarded on my office floor, the way he’d look above me if I ever stopped fighting him.

“Okay.” Penelope smiles when he reaches her side. “Everyone count down with me. Five. Four…”

No one in the audience joins her. Her voice echoes solo off the walls.

“Two… one!”

She lifts a remote and taps a button, and the screen flashes with images of the city before revealing the result.

92% Approval

A collective gasp fills the room.

There’s no way…

The board members applaud, but not a single clap sounds from any of us employees.

“I guess morale is a lot better than you expected, huh?” Penelope smiles at Mr. Pearson, motioning for him to take the mic.

“Thank you all for ranking me so high.” He smirks as if he knows his score is a fraud. “I’m looking forward to ushering in a new era of transparency here to make your time in my company better, and to show you that I mean that…”

He pauses.

“I’ll read some critical reviews at random to show you how serious I am about change.”

“What a great idea!” Penelope exclaims. “Here, let me put on the randomizer for you, so you can read them off the screen.”

Behind him, a score and a bolded paragraph appear.

“10 out of 10,” he reads. “Mr. Pearson is the best CEO I’ve ever worked for, and my only complaint is that he doesn’t get the recognition he deserves.”

I cross my arms. That review could only be written by one person—Brian, his personal lapdog.

“The next one is an eight out of ten.” He smiles. “My only issue with this company is that sometimes there’s not enough breathing time between tasks and communication.”

“I’ll do better with that.” He smiles at the crowd as if we’re his fans.

“I knew I should’ve slept in and come late…”

“Read the one out of ten, Mr. Pearson,” Penelope says.

“The what ?” He looks at her.

“Eh, I’ll read it.” She clears her throat. “If I could give this asshole a 0/10 I would.”

The entire auditorium falls silent.

Mr. Pearson narrows his eyes as she reads.

“He’s never been wrong a day in his life, turns our meetings—which he only attends DIGITALLY—into hostage situations, and I swear he cuts people off mid-sentence just to hear himself talk.”

I try not to nod; whoever wrote that has balls of steel, and I hope they’ll reveal themselves later so we can throw them a party in solidarity.

“Okay.” Mr. Pearson clenches his jaw. “As far as this review...”

“Hold on, wait. There’s more,” Penelope says.

“I don’t think he knows how to actually RUN a company, or how to treat employees.

And despite the fact that he has time to star on GQ covers, nab features on America’s Top Billionaires list, this asshole still has time to harass me (DAILY) about a stupid report. ”

Oh my god…That’s MY review!

The recognition of my words dawns on me, and my blood runs cold. Panicking, I search for the nearest exit sign.

Then again, no one knows it’s me, and I’m sure I’m not the only one he harasses. I can’t be.

“If he really wants to improve morale around this place, he can either start putting himself in our shoes or shut the fuck up and enjoy staying in his. Sincerely, Kendall Clarke.”

My face burns hot, but my hands are ice cold and slippery against the seat. My lungs won’t pull in enough air, like the whole room is closing in on me. I look down at my heels, praying they’ll move on to another review.

Nothing.

The only sound in the room is chairs creaking, people coughing, a soft squeal from the mic.

No, no, no. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. But the pinch on my wrist stings, and the room refuses to disappear.

I force myself to glance up, and every eye is on me.

Unsure of how to tell my colleagues to stop making it so obvious, I look around, and my eyes catch sight of Mr. Pearson glaring at me from the stage.

His lips parted, his arms crossed, he looks like he’s seconds away from firing me right here in front of everyone.

“Okay, so…” Penelope clears her throat. “Uh, would you like to respond to this particular feedback, Mr. Pearson?”

“Yes.” His eyes lock me in place. “I would.”

“We’re listening.”

“Thank you, Miss Clarke,” he says. “Thank you for telling me how you really feel.”

“Taking it in stride, that’s great. Let’s read some more, okay?” Penelope fumbles with the mic, desperate to move on.

“Yes, let’s…” He looks away, but his gaze continuously lands on me for the rest of the presentation.