Just a Bit Bossy by Alessandra Hazard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

 

The reception room outside Satan’s office looked exactly the same: intimidatingly fancy and intimidatingly quiet, as if people were afraid to breathe wrong.

Brenda smiled in obvious relief when she saw him. “I’m so glad you are back!” she said, half-whispering for some reason, as if Satan had super-hearing and could hear them through the closed door. “Olivia was so sure you wouldn’t return, but I hoped she was wrong.”

“Why?” Nate said, dropping a kiss on her cheek and studying her. “How are you? You look tired.”

Brenda sighed, glancing at the closed door warily. “I am tired. He’s been in a mood lately.”

“Isn’t he always?” Nate said with a snort.

Wincing, Brenda shook her head. “He’s been worse. Or we just got used to him being nicer.”

Nate looked at her incredulously.

Brenda chuckled, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “I know you don’t believe me, but he really was nicer when you were around. Less harsh.”

“Right, he just took out his bad temper on me,” Nate said, rolling his eyes with a smile.

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, he certainly took out his temper on Connor and Abel, but it didn’t seem to help. Abel left in tears yesterday, literally. I’ve never seen a grown man cry.”

Nate scrunched up his nose, unconvinced. He still didn’t buy that Ferrara could somehow be more horrible than he had been with him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m not here to stay.”

Her face fell.

Nate refused to feel guilty about it. “I just want to talk to him for a moment.”

She frowned, glancing uncertainly at the door. “He’s busy. He has a meeting with the marketing head right now.”

“You know what? I don’t care,” Nate said. “That’s the perk of not being his employee-slash-personal slave anymore. I don’t have to shake in my boots every time His Highness frowns. He’s not the boss of me.”

He strode confidently toward the door, ignoring Brenda’s feeble protests.

Except his confidence seemed to evaporate the moment he opened the door and was pinned under the heavy gaze of those black eyes.

Nate swallowed. He tried to summon the anger he’d felt just a few moments ago, but his thoughts kept scattering, the familiar urge to please this man creeping back. It was utterly disgusting.

Someone coughed a little, and Nate wrenched his eyes away from Ferrara’s.

He stared at the portly man, feeling his confidence and purpose come back now that he wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Hello, Mr. Jameson. How are you? Would you mind stepping out of the room while I talk to him?”

Jameson glanced helplessly at Ferrara.

Satan said nothing, looking at Nate with a strange expression. There was a hint of irritation there, definitely, but other than that, it was hard to tell.

“Leave,” he said at last, still looking at Nate.

Nate didn’t move, knowing the order wasn’t for him. It was kind of revolting how well he could still read this man and know the difference between Ferrara being a jerk toward him and toward someone else.

It seemed Jameson wasn’t as well versed in the demonic language as Nate was. He looked between Nate and Ferrara, his uncertainty obvious.

Nate took pity on him. “He’s addressing you,” he clarified.

When Ferrara didn’t deny that, Jameson hurried toward the door so fast it surprised Nate. The guy must have been in better shape than he looked.

The door shut behind Jameson with a soft click, and silence fell upon the room.

Since he didn’t have any excuse not to look at him anymore, Nate met Ferrara’s eyes again and tried to give him his angriest look. He was angry, dammit. He was here to tell Ferrara exactly what he thought of him.

But all that came out of his mouth was, “Why?”

When Ferrara just tilted his head slightly, Nate glared at him. “Why did you do that?”

The asshole quirked a dark eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Nate clenched his fists. “You made them all reject me,” he ground out. “All my job applications. All twelve of them. Don’t tell me you had nothing to do with it.”

The second eyebrow joined the first. A sardonic smile touched Ferrara’s lips. It didn’t touch his eyes. He truly looked like a demon. A creepy demon with eyes as black as hell.

“I’m flattered you think I’m omnipotent, but I’m not,” Ferrara said mildly, his soft voice completely at odds with the hard, intense look in his eyes. “People search for jobs for months and months. Maybe you simply weren’t qualified for the jobs you have applied for.”

Nate’s nails dug into his palms. “I was qualified for those jobs. I was overqualified for some of them. But apparently, despite the glowing recommendation letter you gave me, I’m not even good enough for the job of a QA tester. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“It does seem a little strange,” Ferrara said.

Was that amusement in his voice? It figured that the dick would derive amusement from someone’s misery.

Nate glowered at him. “How did you do it?”

Ferrara gave a shrug.

“Why did you do it?” Nate said. “I didn’t think you were that spiteful. I thought even you wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“I was simply making a point.”

Nate laughed. “And what point is that? Please enlighten me.”

“I didn’t say you could go. Until I say so, no one is allowed to leave this company.”

Nate stared at him. “You need help. Like, professional help.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Newsflash, asshole: we live in a free country. Your employees aren’t your slaves. Maybe things are different in Italy in some bumfuck Sicilian town or something, but you’re not there. The US Constitution. Give it a read sometime. Spoiler alert: no man has absolute power, not even the President.”

Ferrara didn’t look fazed in the slightest. “You’re to return to work effective immediately. Go to HR and sign the contract. It’s ready.”

Nate didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the face. It was like talking to a wall. “How are you even real? You’re like the stereotypical horrible boss on steroids on top of an insufferable egomaniac who can’t take no for an answer! No, I’m not going to be your goddamn PA—I’m a game designer, not a glorified manservant! I want to make games instead of running errands for you—or for anyone else. Is that so hard to grasp?”

For a moment, Nate thought Satan wasn’t even going to bother replying to him.

But at last, Ferrara spoke. “You want to work on making games.” It was a statement.

“Yes!” Nate huffed. “Did you honestly think being a PA was my life’s ambition? I’ve always been clear about why I became your PA. I thought we were on the same page about it.” He paused, as something occurred to him just then. Raffaele Ferrara wanted him back as his PA. It was probably stupid that he hadn’t thought about the implications of it before. Ferrara wanted him back. He wanted Nate back badly enough to go the extra mile and stop other companies from hiring him.

Nate cocked his head to the side, eyeing his ex-boss thoughtfully as he tried to digest that. “You said you did it because no one is allowed to leave the company until you say so. That’s bullshit. I’m sure plenty of people have quit in the past. Heck, your latest PA quit yesterday—because apparently you reduced him to tears. But here you are, bullying me into coming back. What gives? What, Connor and Abel refused to suck your cock or something? Or did you like my mouth better?”

Although it was just snark, he saw Ferrara’s gaze flick down to his mouth. It was blink-and-you’d-miss-it fast, but since Nate was still unhealthily attuned to the infinitesimal changes in Ferrara’s expression, he didn’t miss the look.

He laughed, equally incredulous, furious—and absurdly pleased. God, this was fucked-up. Why the hell did he feel pleased?

“Seriously?” Nate said. “Wow, I’m flattered.”

The look Ferrara gave him could have frozen hell. “If you really think your mediocre blowjob skills are the reason I want you back, you’re delusional. You’re simply less incompetent than my other assistants, and training another semi-competent PA is a waste of my time.”

Nate smiled sweetly at him. “Right. Then I guess you wouldn’t mind not having my mediocre blowjob skills at your disposal anymore. Even if I were to come back, I wouldn’t suck your dick again.”

“So you are coming back.”

Nate thought about it for a moment. He did like this company and its people—present company excluded. He could come back, but on his terms.

“I have conditions,” Nate said. “First, I’ll be your PA only until the end of the year.” He raised his hand, forestalling any objections. “In the meantime I’ll find and train up a good PA for you, someone who won’t have a nervous breakdown every time you frown. After that, you’ll transfer me to the game design department and leave me alone.”

Those black eyes stared at him for a few seconds before their owner nodded.

Feeling a little suspicious of how easily Ferrara had agreed to his conditions, Nate said, “And I’m not sucking your dick again. I’m serious about it. If I’m to really stay and work for this company, I don’t want my coworkers to think I got my job by sucking the boss’s cock.”

Ferrara’s expression flickered for a moment, becoming less impassive, but then it was smoothed back into the inscrutable mask he normally wore. “Fine,” he said.

“And I want a raise,” Nate said, knowing that he was pushing his luck, but curious how far Ferrara was willing to go to have him back. “I want my salary doubled.” That was a ridiculous demand—he’d already been paid very well.

But Ferrara just gave a clipped nod.

Nate looked at him incredulously, but okay, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll go to HR now.”

Ferrara just turned back to his computer, and taking it for the dismissal it was, Nate left, his mind still reeling.

God, did this man have some kind of superpower of bending other people’s wills? Nate had come here to tell the asshole what he thought of him, but instead he had somehow ended up accepting his job offer. It made no damn sense.

His sister wasn’t going to be impressed.

 

***

 

It was disturbingly easy to slip back into the role of Raffaele Ferrara’s PA. Nate was kind of embarrassed to admit it, but he’d really missed the challenge of it and the absolutely crazy, hectic pace of his life.

What he didn’t miss was the way his world once again revolved around his horrible boss. Nate felt like he spent every waking moment either with Ferrara, or thinking about him and his orders and needs.

Speaking of Ferrara’s needs, there was one need that remained not addressed. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Nate could feel the tension and frustration mounting in Ferrara with every passing day, betrayed by the sharpness of his voice and the shortness of his temper.

It was also betrayed by the way those dark eyes sometimes tracked his lips when Nate spoke. It made Nate warm and fidgety, his mouth going dry as he imagined—

He adamantly quashed those traitorous thoughts, but they kept resurfacing. Fuck, he really needed to find a nice woman who’d let him suck her cock, so that he’d stop imagining sucking his boss’s. But now that his life revolved around Ferrara again, he had no time for anything resembling a personal life.

So he just pushed those thoughts down and tried to ignore the way Ferrara’s eyes flicked to his mouth when Nate licked his lips. Or the way Ferrara’s suit pants stretched obscenely over the bulge in his crotch. Or the way his own cock stirred as he imagined dropping down in front of his boss, yanking his zipper down and swallowing that big, thick—

Ugh.

All right, the “not thinking about it” part was still a work in progress.