Page 64 of Embriagado

“Who was that?”

Rubbing my temples with my eyes closed, I sighed. “You’re still here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I looked up at him. In all honesty, I was sure that by now, he’d beg me to fire him or, at the very least, snap like he did that first time. Only he didn’t, and instead, he kept doing the insane tasks I’d tossed at him. Soon, I’d run out of ideas. If I thought that sending him out of town to buy me sea salt you could get at any grocery shop, as I did last week, would push him over the edge, I turned out to be wrong. Incredibly so. Because here he was, insufferably stubborn, begging for my attention. And yet, knowing it was my choice to test him, I couldn’t complain, not until I was sure he fitted my plans.

“About what?” I asked, not bothered by the eager look on his stupid face.

“I need to take tomorrow off.”

My eyes darted to his name tag. Once again, he’d put it on the wrong side.

“So? Can I?”

What would it take for him to learn it should be worn on his right side?

“Are you even listening to me?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I was distracted by your stupidity, yet again.”

“Huh?” he frowned, and I found it to be incredibly annoying.

“Your name tag. Move it to the right side.”

Looking down at his chest, he shrugged. “Whatever…” He began fixing it. “So, can I take tomorrow off?”

“And why would you need a day off? I thought you were desperate for money,” I said, watching his fingers fumbling with the pin.

Please stab yourself.

“It’s my little brother’s birthday⁠—”

“No.”

He quickly looked up, his eyes meeting mine as pure anger crossed them.

How sweet.

“Why not?” he grunted like the juvenile he was. He might be twenty-four, and yet he had the brain of a toddler. The temper of one as well.

“Because I said so.”

His jaw twitched, and I loved the way it looked like he was a second from exploding. Would it be bloody?

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that, right?”

I hated when he cursed. Unfortunately, his vocabulary was reduced to fuck, shit, and a few other lovely slurs. But not in the mood to educate him, I stayed quiet and signaled for him to come closer. Possessing the intoxicating combination of stubbornness and obedience, he moved toward me, stepping right in front of my desk.

“What?”

“Come closer, I don’t bite,” I said, getting up and hovering above my desk, my hands flat on the hardwood.

A jolt of worry glinted in his eyes, one that mixed with lust, before he did as I asked and leaned close. Focusing on his thick neck and the visible outlines of his muscles, I bit on my bottom lip before cupping his jaw. He grunted at the force and tried pulling away when I kept him close.