Page 9 of Handsome Devil

He smirked. “I don’t like cats or dogs, actually.”

The vehicle screeched to a stop. We both decanted into the frigid night and walked into GS Properties’ building. The twenty-four-hour security guard greeted us with a sleepy nod.

We took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Once at the office, Tate strode to the filing cabinet in my open-space office and, with a theatrical flourish, shoved it to the floor. The drawers spilled, the files flying out in every direction, skating across the floor.

My breath caught in my throat. He just ruinedmonthsof work. Each folder was organized alphabetically, and within it, every document was filed in chronological order.

Tate leaned a shoulder on the doorframe to his office, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Time’s a wastin’, Miss Bennett. The files aren’t going to sort themselves, and we need to find that certificate so we can open the Swiss bank account Monday morning. Ten o’clock meeting, remember.”

Actually, nine thirty, you arse.

I swallowed down a chain of outrageous profanities that’d make a sailor blush. “May I check your desk first? I am certain I put the certificate on it, notarized and apostilled, prior to leaving the office this afternoon.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Of course not.”

His eyes tapered with suspicion. He knew I didn’t miss a chance to dish it out as good as I got it.

“I’m calling you much worse,” I clarified. “Normally behind your back. But since you’re acting especially egregiously tonight, I don’t mind telling you that you’re a sadist and an asshole.”

“Bold of you to speak to your boss like that,” he assessed, but he looked amused more than anything else.

“You’re not going to fire me,” I sighed, a hint of sadness in my voice. “I’m far too competent. Besides, for whatever reason, you’re hell-bent on keeping me and making my life a living hell.”

“I love that you think you’re something special. That makes one of us.” He tapped a finger to his lips contemplatively. “As I said, the certificate is not on my desk. No, you may not go into my office—my personal space—and look for it.”

“Personal space!” I cried out. “I order yourcondomsfor you.”

“How does this invade your personal space? You’re not the one I’m using them with.”

True, but I was also the one to approach his hookups with an ironclad NDA and ask for their clean bill of health and proof of contraception. My boss was wildly unfond of the idea of reproducing. It was the one thing we agreed on.

His DNA should die with him. Preferably soon.

Tate used his wingtip boot to shuffle some papers around. “Go on. Start searching for it.”

I crossed my arms. Every muscle in my body trembled with rage. I was about to do something foolish, and I didn’t even care.

I was done being his pushover.

Yanking me from my birthday celebration was the last straw.

“Pick up the files, and put them on my desk.”

Noplease. Nokindly. He could sod right off.

“Pardon?” He arched a thick eyebrow, the sharp blade of a warning dragging through his voice.

“You heard me. I’m not one of the supermodels on your roster. I’m not going on my knees for you,” I enunciated slowly. “Pick up the documents, and put them on my desk. I will not buck, Mr. Blackthorn.”

“If you don’t—”

“I won’t,” I cut him off matter-of-factly. “So I suggestyouwill. Unless you want to look for a PA first thing tomorrow morning. I heard Rebecca is looking for a full-time position.”

Rebecca was my replacement on my rare off days. A darling girl, but one who could definitely use honing on her organizational skills. “Go on then. Call my bluff.”