Damn Marcus and our damn agreement.
I don’t have time for McCarson’s excuses and step in.
In a rather compromising position, Miss Aguilar is spread out on his desk with only a bra in sight. McCarson is standing behind his desk, his arms laced around her waist and he’s laughing at something she said. Bryce, who’s usual attire is a charcoal Harley Davidson t-shirt or a sweater and distressed jeans, is from East London. He supports a rich, Cockney accent and has an innate talent of doing the opposite of what anybody says.
His arrogance withers the moment his eyes flicker to mine. “Yeah, about that meeting…”
“May I have a word?”
“Can’t ya see I’m preoccupied?” Bryce’s disdain towards me shifts and dissolves as he stares down at my potential intern with a wolfish grin. “Don’t worry, babe. We have all the time in the world.”
I’m forced to avert my eyes when they continue going at it. My jaw can’t clench tighter, any more and the bone will launch out of my skin and boomerang across the room, knocking this Cockney out. But now that I think of it, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
No.
Get your head in the game, Giannotti.
“Mr. McCarson. A. Word. Now.”
“I said wait one fucking minute.”
“Miss Aguilar, if you could kindly give Mr. McCarson and I some privacy.”
“She’s busy too. Get out! We’ll tell ya when we’re done.”
A string of Italian curses spill from my tongue as I leave, slam the door shut and move up in the hallway to cancel their exaggerated moans. He’s doing it all purposely. For the love of God.
Luckily, I brought my phone to kill time.
Giulio: Let me fire him and I’ll give you anything you want.
Marcus: Okay, give me planet Mars.
Giulio: Grow up. Fuck it, I don’t need your permission. I’m firing him.
Marcus: Then I’ll call the police and tell them everything I saw… EVERYTHING.
And just like that, he wins.
Marcus has my entire life on a string because of one single action when I was younger. One move and now I can’t even terminate the contract of this Brit banging a woman at work.
Giulio: You owe me for this.
Marcus: You owe ME.
A few moments pass before Bryce McCarson’s door swings open and I intercept Miss Aguilar as she steps out. She glances up at me with a small smile, adjusting the chain of her bag. “Sorry, Mr. Giannotti. I don’t think I was cut out for the job anyway.”
We were supposed to sign the contract today. Now I need to find a replacement before Tuesday. It’s virtually impossible on its own and then if you add the fact it’s Labor Day weekend…Thanks, McCarson!
“I respect your decision.”
“Thank you. Goodbye, Mr. Giannotti.”
Inside Bryce McCarson’s office, I stare right through him. Unbelievable.
I’m beyond livid.
Bryce slips on his infamous vintage t-shirt, failing to cover up his heavy inked chest and full sleeves of tattoos. My patience snapped the first day he worked here and now that I can’t even get rid of the guy, I’m climbing the walls. Nevertheless, he isn’t going to win this. He made it clear that last time would be the last time. Now Bryce leans by his desk, arms crossed, with a smugness in his distant green eyes. “She’s really something, aye?”
“Sit down.”
Bryce’s smirk enlarges and his arrogance leads him to an assertive head shake, all the while whisking a hand through his dark brown hair, the same color as his short tamed beard.
“Sit down.”
Nothing.
“Why is it that my children listen better than you and they’re six?”
“It’s the way to live. You should try it sometimes. You’d probably like it.”
I step closer and cock my head to the side, intensifying the bad blood between us with one look. “What did you just say?”
“Ya need hearing aids?”
His rumbling Cockney accent vexes me. The fact he believes he can speak to anybody in this manner has me appalled to have him represent my business.
“Maybe if you found a woman to—”
“BRYCE!” I sneer, grinding my molars at every letter. Is he serious? “The next time you seduce one of my potential employees or existing clients and act smart about it you’ll have the most nominal fragment in correlation to my company. Is that understood?”
“Now, is that supposed to scare me?” Bryce scoffs with a wide smirk. “Because it’s not doing the job…which has me ask, does Marcus Giannotti know about your little scheme?”
“This is my company.”
“And Marcus hired me. If and when he sees fit, he will be the one to fire me. Not you.”
It doesn’t matter what I do, I can never get through to this man. Once he has his trademark smug smirk in place, it doesn’t depart from him, along with his dedication to consume me in rage.
Looking out the window, I focus on my heavy breaths. “You drive me insane. You really do.”
“Boss,” Bryce mocks, “well, that’s the first time a man has ever said that he—”
The neckline of his t-shirt is fisted in my grip before he can finish. The cords in my neck tighten, threatening to explode any second now with the amount of animosity coaxing my tongue. Our stubbles cross amongst the commotion, two flickering flames on the edge of engulfing at one more stroke of the match.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Building. Now.” My lips meet his ear in a staccato hiss. “Go home, screw your head on, and come into the office Tuesday as a proper thirty-year-old man.”
“I already did the screwing part.”
The unnerving comment has me release my grip and take a solid look at him. Bryce is solemn now, but I know it won’t last long. “You’ll return Tuesday morning dedicated to your job. Anything less and you’ll suffer the consequences. I won’t go lightly on you. End of discussion.”
“Nutter!” Bryce snarls, always needing to have the last word,
