Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
While I’d be pissed at anyone in the company abusing their subordinates, it’s even worse that it’s Riley being forced into all this work.
I could wring Sloane’s neck.
I swivel to the landline on my desk and punch in Riley’s personal extension, positively fuming. She answers on the second ring, sounding distracted.
“Hello?” she asks, the clatter of her keyboard muffled through the phone.
“Riley.” She squeaks in surprise, the sounds of typing stopping immediately. “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”
“Mr. D’Amico!” she says breathlessly. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right up.”
I hang up before I can call her a good girl, my anger soothed just by the sound of her voice. It’s not enough, though. Nothing short of Riley admitting the truth and knowing that I won’t let Sloane keep this up is enough.
Riley is mine, and I take good care of what’s mine.
She makes it up in record time, tapping out a hurried knock on my door barely two minutes after I hang up the phone.
“Come in.”
Her ponytail is frizzy, and she smooths a hand over it as she steps into my office, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The sight of her calves beneath the hem of her skirt conjures up the memory of that leg peeking out of bubbly bathwater. I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from growling at the thought.
“I’m so sorry it took me so long, sir,” she says, rushing over to my desk to place a file in front of me.
My brows furrow in confusion before I realize what she’s apologizing for. She thinks she took too long getting this file to me and that I’m frustrated with her.
God, nothing could be further from the truth.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever had get me reports this detailed so quickly,” I assure her. “You do excellent work. Sit.”
I keep myself stern and serious as I wait for her to sit, but I can’t help praising her a little. It’s true, but I’d say it even if it was a lie just to see the sweet flush of pride on her face. She tries to hide it by pushing her glasses up, but it’s impossible to miss.
I hate the way it vanishes as soon as I continue speaking.
“How long have you been doing Sloane’s quarterly reports?” I ask bluntly.
There's no point beating around the bush when we both know the truth.
Her hazel eyes blow wide with panic, and she glances down at the folder on my desk like she wants to snatch it back up. “I—No, sir, I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” I say sharply. “Answer the question.”
Riley bows her head, not meeting my eyes as she balls her hands into fists in her lap, sucking in a nervous breath.
“I—it’s not all the time,” she says quietly. “Sloane asks me for help occasionally when her workload is too heavy for her.”
I hum thoughtfully, glancing back to the reports I have on my computer screen that date back a year and a half.
“Occasionally?” I ask, watching Riley nod, stilted and unsure as she looks up again. “Sloane shouldn’t be asking her subordinates for help at all. She’s the department head, although I’m starting to rethink that decision. And ‘occasionally’ shouldn’t mean every quarter since you started, Riley.”
Riley pales further, the slight blush that decorated her cheeks when she came in nonexistent now.
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“It’s fine,” she insists, looking even more terrified at the thought of saying anything. “I like my job. I don’t mind a little extra work, and I didn’t want to cause any problems.”
A little extra work wouldn’t keep her here several hours after everyone else goes home every day.
I sigh heavily, a sharp huff of breath out of my nose. I’m pissed in all directions. At Sloane for daring to do this in the first place, at myself for not catching it earlier, and at Riley for not telling me.
Okay, I’m not mad at Riley, but I’m upset that she didn’t give me a chance to solve her issues until I inserted myself. She didn’t even let HR try to step in. I suppose I can’t expect less. She’s so sweet and is always willing to help others in the company. I’ve heard from other departments countless times over the past year about how helpful and kind she’s been.
Why would I think anything less in this sort of situation?
Not to mention Sloane isn’t the nicest person to work with. I don’t know why I’ve kept her around. All I’ve had are complaints against her.
“Am I going to be written up?” she asks meekly, and I look up sharply to see her shoulders trembling as she stares blankly at the hardwood floor. My mind unhelpfully conjures up the sight of her on her knees for me as I tell her we can work something out instead of a write up. I push the thought away without hesitation.