Page 32 of Unsuitable

Reaching for the handle, I turn it and let myself in his office before closing the door behind me.

I turn to face him, and he’s leaning back in his chair, arms on the rests, staring at me with those coal-black eyes of his.

My stomach flips, and I suddenly feel queasy. I bind my hands together in front of me.

His eyes follow the movement and then shoot back up to my face. “Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

I guess the nice clothes-bringing-and-apologizing Kas is gone, and Kas-hole is back.

I swallow nervously. “Mr. Matis, I know this is only my second day working here, and I really do hate to ask…but I was wondering, if I came in an hour early on Friday and worked through my lunch, would it be possible for me to leave at four instead of six?”

“No.” He sits forward in his seat and turns the chair to his computer.

Bolts of frustration and anger fly around me, buzzing like bees in my head. I’m not normally quick to temper, but this guy makes me want to scream my head off.

Dropping my hands to my sides, I curl my fingers into my palms. “Mr. Matis, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important—”

“And what’s so important that you have to leave work? A hair appointment? Nail appointment?” His eyes drag over me. “But then, looking at you, I’d say it’s neither of those things. So, what is so important that you have to leave work early?”

Mother…effer.

I take a step back, affronted. “I’m sorry, but have I done something to give you the impression that I deserve to be talked to like this? I know I’ve been in prison, but that doesn’t give you the right to judge me for it. You don’t even know me.” Even as I say the words, I know how ineffectual they are because they sound weak to my own ears.

Fire lights his eyes. The look in them makes me want to take a step back.

He looks like a scary-arse fire-breathing dragon.

He leans forward, pressing his hands to the desk. His voice is so low that I feel the temperature in the room drop. “Trust me,” he seethes, “that’s not what I’m judging you on.”

What?

“God, you’re a—” I bite my lip to stop the words from coming out.

“I’m a what, Daisy?” Then, he smirks.

The bastard smirks.

I have a vision of wiping that smirk off using the chair he’s sitting on.

I’ve never been one for violence, but this guy just brings it out of me.

Closing my eyes, I blow out a calming breath, wishing I were anywhere but here.

Why does this guy hate me so much?

“Unless you’re a magician or you’ve figured out the theory of time travel, I’m still going to be sitting here when you open your eyes.”

Argh! I want to throttle him!

Going back inside for murder is looking pretty appealing right now.

Two days, and I want to kill my boss already. This is not good. I need to get a handle on this and find a way to deal with his Kas-hole-ness.

He’s just a man. A man whose opinion of me doesn’t matter.

All I need from him is the paycheck at the end of every week.

I can do this. I’ve handled worse.