Page 8 of His Little Angel

“You did.”

For the past eleven years, since I’ve been managing my late father’s company, I haven’t allowed myself to use violence within its walls. We are powerful. Resourceful. Dangerous. We can kill without consequences—we have the connections and money to bury it.

It takes everything in me not to end this woman with a bullet.

“You belittled the system she built. You dismissed her role. And you put your dirty bag on her desk.”

“I—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize—”

“You’re not the right fit,” I bark. “Leave.”

This is the most merciful I’ve been in a long fucking while.

She practically runs out, stumbling as she goes.

Mila re-enters a moment later. “How bad was it?” she asks softly.

“She was disrespectful.”

“And?”

“And she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morelli. I’ll work on picking better candidates.”

“If they’re incompetent, they don’t get near your desk.”

No one gets near your desk.

Your desk.

Notthedesk.

Herdesk.

Herspace.

Herplace in my world.

“Sir… you do realize I’m leaving, right? That won’t be my desk much longer.”

“I’m aware,” I lie.

But every cell in my body screams the opposite.

Don’t leave—or I’ll lose my mind.

And I don’t know why.

Chapter Four

Mila

Well… that was a disaster.

I knew the interviews would be rough, but I didn’t expectthat. Every single candidate felt like a walking headache. The first woman sat at a desk that wasn’t even hers yet—mydesk—and started touching everything on it like a raccoon. What if a contract had been lying out? What if confidential reports were there? She wasn’t even an employee. She had no right to flip things over like she owned the place.

The next one practically fogged the hallway with her perfume. And her barely-there outfit? “Office vixen” wasn’t the job description, but she clearly hadn’t bothered reading the email. Or she just didn’t care.