THE BILLONAIRE OBCESSION

"Do you know what happens to people who waste my time, Miss Reed?"

The words sliced through the strained quiet, sharp as a dagger. As I stood in front of Jeo Donald's desk, my fingers clutching the edge of the folder I had just given him, my heart pounded against my ribs.

I took a deep breath. "Sir, I—"

His black eyes pinned me in place as they rose from the paper. Chilly. Making calculations. Deadly.

"Save your excuses." He spoke in a steady, frightfully serene tone. "I don’t tolerate incompetence."

In his office, the air felt oppressive. Nothing mattered, not the sleek black walls, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline of Los Angeles, or the subtle buzz of the metropolis below. Because the only thing I could think about was the guy behind that enormous glass desk, destroying my life with a single glance.

Joe Donald was more than simply my supervisor. He reigned with total authority like a king in his realm, and I had just committed the type of error that he couldn't overlook.

For three years, I had exercised caution. Always on time. Always effective. Invisible at all times. However, I had fallen today.

Additionally, guys like Jeo Donald did not overlook errors.

He went on to go over the pages I had double-checked before sending, saying, "You sent the wrong figures to the investors," "Do you realize what that cost me?"

My throat constricted. The financiers. The bargain. Since I supplied the erroneous predictions, the proposal as a whole was based on inaccurate information.

I stumbled, "I—I can fix it," I said. "I'll resend the correct files immediately."

Leaning back in his chair, Jeo observed me in the same manner that a predator observes its victim. "It’s already been handled."

I felt cold. That implied that he had corrected my error on his own. I had squandered his time, then.

I was essentially gone as a result.

"I should fire you."

It was the last word. Without hesitation. There is no place for debate.

Still, I made a very dumb mistake.

I said something.

"Please don’t."

The ensuing hush was intolerable. Something dark and inscrutable flared in Jeo's eyes, but his demeanor remained unchanged.

I ought to have stopped talking. I ought to have left and accepted my lot in life. However, I was unable to.

Because I needed this employment.

Because if I lost everything, I would be drowning in debt that I would never be able to escape, my mother's medical expenses would go unpaid, and my brother would not have tuition.

"Please," I said, a little softly.

Jeo's head cocked slightly. "Why should I keep you?"

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. How could I respond? That I put forth more effort than everybody else? That I never grumbled about staying late? My final hope was this job.

None of it mattered to Jeo.

Mercy was not the foundation of his kingdom. It was founded on strength, planning, and the removal of weakness as soon as it became apparent.

I was feeble.

And I had just given him the ideal justification for getting rid of me.

With a groan, Jeo snapped the folder shut. "You’re not indispensable, Miss Reed."

"I know," I said in a whisper.

"Then tell me," he said, tapping the desk. "What are you willing to do to keep this job?"

My heart skipped a beat.

The way he said it. How his gaze met mine. There was no doubt. Something else was involved.

An examination.

There was an unsaid tension in the air between us that made everything crackle.

"I’ll do better," I eventually replied. "I won’t make another mistake."

There was no grin on Jeo's lips. Something more hazardous.

"You won’t," he concurred. "Because if you do, you won’t get a second chance."

With trembling hands at my sides, I nodded.

"Now," he said, shoving the folder to the side. "Miss Reed, tell me. For what duration do you intend to struggle?

I blinked. "I don’t—"

He remarked, "You live paycheck to paycheck," with ease. "You work late hours, barely sleep, and yet, you’re always on the edge of survival."

Suddenly, the space seemed smaller. How was that known to him?

Joe moved forward and spoke in a tone that was almost personal. "What would you give to change your life?"

I felt a chill go through me.

My error was no longer the issue. Not about my work anymore.

This was a very other matter.

Something hazardous.

"I—"

Whatever was going to happen was cut short by a harsh thump.

Jeo's eyes darted to the entrance, and his face returned to the icy, unreadable mask he usually wore.

He shouted, "Get out," as if I were nothing.

And maybe I was to him.

I turned and headed toward the door, my legs shaky. But his voice interrupted me one final time before I could go.

"This isn’t over, Miss Reed."

I saw how his black eyes lingered on me as I gently moved my head.

Not like a manager observing a worker.

Similar to a monarch choosing to spare or kill his subjects.

I sighed apprehensively as the door clicked behind me.

It was safe where I worked.

For the time being.

However, I felt in my heart that something had changed.

Joe Donald had seen me.

And that didn't seem secure at all.