Page 6 of Serving the CEO
I spentas much time in my office as I did in my apartment, and I’d spared no expense in making this a place I felt comfortable and could enjoy being in. My desk was custom-made and my chair was the best money could buy. High-end electronics covered my desk, and a flat-screen television hung on the wall above my minibar. That, of course, was stocked with only the finest liquor. The couch against the other wall was where I sometimes slept if I pulled an all-nighter, so it was almost as comfortable as my bed.
My apartment was home, but my office was my kingdom.
And the king worked as hard as he played.
I skimmed the notes in the folder and considered the error that had been made. It hadn’t cost the company much more than time, but time was money, and I didn’t tolerate mistakes.
The supervisor had made several notes, including that this was the first time the employee had made such an error, and the employee had notified the editor as soon as she’d discovered it, even though it was on the weekend. This allowed the supervising editor to stop the project before it progressed, which saved a considerable amount of money.
However, if the employee hadnotmade the mistake in the first place…
I closed the file and tossed it on my desk as my assistant rang.
“Yes, Anamaria?”
“Ms. Griffin is here. Shall I send her in?”
I eyed the folder. Griffin was punctual. I’d give her that. “Not yet.”
I rose and went to the coffeemaker, starting a single cup as I stared out at the city. My office took up a large corner unit in a tall building, but there was nothing to see outside except more buildings and gray sky.
With coffee in hand, I returned to my seat. I took a sip of the steaming brew and flipped through the file once more before closing it.
I pushed the button to connect me to my assistant and said, “Send her in, Anamaria.”
The door opened and the young woman who came in was tall and curvy, with long dark hair and wide hazel eyes. Her face was expressionless, but the way she twisted her fingers together told me how nervous she was. I didn’t blame her. She’d fucked up.
I didn’t ask her to sit. There was no point.
“You made a mistake with one of our biggest releases we’re putting out this year,” I said bluntly.
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. I—”
I cut her off. “I don’t care to hear excuses.”
She blinked, snapping her mouth closed but holding my gaze levelly. Hot splotches of color stained her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. I almost admired her for it.
“You’re fired.”
“I…what?”
Now she swayed and reached out with one hand, grabbing the chair I’d refused to offer her.I wanted to think it was an act, but my gut said she wasn’t that good of an actress. That just pissed me off, though.
Why did she have to do that, look all shocked, and makemefeel like an asshole? She’d made the fucking mistake. Not me.
“You heard me, Ms. Griffin,” I snapped. “You’re fired. Please empty your desk and go.”
She swallowed, then nodded and turned, walking with slow but steady steps, her shoulders and spine straight. She didn’t close the door.
Annoyed, I got up to do it myself and glanced toward my assistant’s desk. Anamaria wasn’t alone. She was talking to the girl and as I reached to grasp the doorknob, Anamaria’s gaze came to me, green eyes sharp with reproof. I scowled but didn’t address either woman as I closed the door.
Returning to my desk, guilt tried to worm in, the file on my desk mocking me.
“Shit,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache started to edge in. I grabbed the file, shoved it into the basket, and called Anamaria.
She came in, brow arched in inquiry.
“Get rid of that.” I pointed at the file.
