Just a Bit Bossy by Alessandra Hazard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Four months later

 

If there was justice in the world, then afterlife existed, and Nate’s horrible boss would end up in hell after meeting his unfortunate end. But then again, Raffaele Angelo Ferrara would probably feel right at home there, considering that he was either Satan personified or closely related to him.

Yes, that was right: his boss’s middle name was actually Angel, which was hilarious on so many levels Nate had laughed out loud when he’d found out. Then again, Lucifer was technically an angel, so it was probably fitting.

“Schedule,” Satan said tersely, drinking his coffee.

Nate looked at his notes. “A meeting with the Quality Control team at 9:10. Then you need to be at Rutledge Enterprises for the board meeting at 10:00. The phone call with Sony’s Briar Ryan at 11:00 about the exclusivity deal. Emily Stevens has requested a meeting at 11:30 regarding the crunch concerns—”

“Decline,” Ferrara cut in without even looking at him.

Nate glared at him. “The developers are overworked,” he ground out. “It’s bad for the company, too. Lack of free time and poor work-life balance affect their efficiency and—”

“Next,” Satan said. “I’m not in the mood for your self-righteousness.”

Nate took a deep, calming breath. “I’ve finished compiling the report you requested,” he said, handing his boss the report he’d barely managed to finish before Ferrara’s arrival.

The man opened it and skimmed it with his gaze.

Nate held his breath.

“It’s inaccurate and incomplete,” said Satan at last in his flat, dismissive voice. “You didn’t consider the increased microtransactions revenue we’ll get from putting the game on Gamepass. You didn’t take into account the extra exposure and word of mouth sales that would offset the loss of Day One revenue. Have the revised version of the report on my desk by ten o’clock.” He turned and headed to his office.

“It’s already nine, and you gave me two other tasks already.” Nate scowled at his back, but at this point he wasn’t even surprised. He was used to it. He was used to his boss’s horribleness. To his ridiculous standards and demands. He’d had no choice but to get used to it.

For the past four months, Nate’s life had been a living hell. His life consisted of his work and his boss. He hadn’t seen his mom in months, which totally wasn’t normal for him.

Every day, he arrived at the office several hours earlier than he should have, because his workload was so crazy Nate couldn’t hope to finish it during work hours. Then, he had to have Ferrara’s breakfast ready by Ferrara’s arrival. Nate was now an expert at making Cappuccino—because it was the only type of coffee that existed, as far as his dick of a boss was concerned. After that, Nate was expected to write down and then perform a hundred different tasks, running up and down the building fifty times a day, typing up ridiculously long documents in a ridiculously short time, and traveling between the Caldwell Group subsidiaries and Rutledge Enterprises like a madman. He rarely returned home before eight in the evening, mentally and physically worn out.

Nate was pretty sure it was workplace abuse, except it wasn’t like Ferrara had ever forced overtime on him: Nate did everything willingly. Yep, that was right: he did it willingly. Call him insane, but he would be damned if he proved the asshole correct and crumbled under the pressure. He was going to be the best damn assistant Ferrara had ever had—or die trying. Nate was pretty sure everyone in the company thought him insane. He was also pretty sure everyone was right.

And the worst part was, he never got even the smallest hint of praise when he managed to successfully perform the most impossible tasks. Of course not. Praise wasn’t a word in Raffaele Ferrara’s vocabulary.

Not that he wanted Ferrara’s praise or something. Of course not. Nate hated him. God, did he hate him. He hated him with everything he was. He hated him to the point that he sometimes literally shook with it, wanting an outlet for that hatred, wanting to dig his fingers into those cold, arrogant black eyes and make him hurt.

Nate had never considered himself a violent person. But he’d been forced to revise that opinion ever since he’d started working for Raffaele Ferrara, because he very vividly and very often imagined wrapping his hands around Ferrara’s muscular neck and squeezing—

The intercom came to life. “My office, Nate,” Satan said.

Nate glared at the screen of his computer before marching into the office.

“Is the report ready?” Ferrara said, without looking at him.

Nate ground his teeth. “It has been twenty minutes, sir,” he said in the most pleasant voice he could manage. It wasn’t very pleasant. “The report is over five thousand words long.”

The demon fixed his eyes on him. “And?”

“The average typing speed of a human is forty words a minute. I can type at seventy words per minute, but it would still take me over seventy minutes to type the report—and that’s without taking into account the corrections I’ll have to make. Having it ready after twenty minutes is simply not humanly possible. Sir.”

Ferrara hummed, eyeing him like one would eye a lab rat. At times like this, Nate was certain the bastard gave him impossible tasks on purpose, waiting for Nate to explode and say he was giving up. Nate was fucking determined to deny him the satisfaction.

“Fine,” Satan said. “Have Brenda finish it up. I have another task for you. Go buy me condoms.”

Nate scowled. “I bought you some last week! You can’t seriously be out of them already.”

Yep, that was his life now. Had he mentioned that buying condoms for his boss was among his countless duties? Because it was. In the past four months, he’d actually bought twenty times more condoms for Ferrara than he had for himself—which was kind of sad and pathetic, but it wasn’t like Nate had time for a personal life now—or any kind of life. He hadn’t been on a date since he started working for Ferrara, and he wasn’t really one for one-night stands. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked to get to know the girl before having sex with her.

Also, Nate was half-convinced Ferrara was lying about the condom size. Surely there had to be justice in the world and Ferrara’s dick was actually tiny? It just wasn’t fair if in addition to his wealth, social status, and looks, Ferrara also had a big dick. But then again, Nate was starting to realize there wasn’t justice in the world where his boss was concerned.

Ferrara gave him a steady look. “If you don’t believe me, I can make sure you’re there next time I use them.”

Um.

What?

“That—that won’t be necessary,” Nate managed at last, blinking. “I believe you—I’m already going!”

There was a barely noticeable change in Ferrara’s expression, a cruel, speculative gleam in his eyes. It honestly scared the shit out of Nate. That look spelled trouble. It usually appeared before Ferrara managed to come up with a new way to make his life hell.

Whatever Ferrara was going to say was interrupted by a phone ringtone.

His boss answered.

Nate exhaled and started turning away when the conversation made him pause.

“I understand, but it doesn’t mean I like your decision,” Ferrara said, his voice slightly different from his usual flat tone.

Nate frowned and turned back.

“I get it,” Ferrara said, sighing. “Family is important.”

Nate shot him a half-bewildered, half-frustrated look. He preferred thinking of Ferrara as a heartless dickhead, but there were moments like this, when his actions and words didn’t quite fit that image.

Ferrara’s face hardened, a deep wrinkle appearing between his brows. “No,” he said, glancing at Nate. “It’s not negotiable. He can manage without someone holding his hand.”

The caller’s response eased some of the tension in Ferrara’s face.

“All right, keep me updated,” he said before hanging up and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What’s up?” Nate said, unable to suppress his curiosity.

He expected Ferrara to rebuke him and tell him that it was none of his business, but unexpectedly, he got an actual answer.

“Ian is going to retake his responsibilities as CEO,” Ferrara said without looking at him, still radiating annoyance.

Oh.

Nate couldn’t say he knew Ian Caldwell well. When he’d started working for Ferrara, the CEO of the Caldwell Group had been in a coma after a car crash. Although he’d recovered since then, the man still allowed Ferrara to keep running the company, though it had been rumored for a while that Caldwell was due to return to work soon.

But Ferrara didn’t look all that happy, which was weird, considering that he and Caldwell seemed to be pretty good friends—as much as two ruthless business sharks could be friends.

“You don’t look happy,” Nate noted.

Ferrara’s lips thinned. “His return to work will basically be in name only. Ian decided he’d take some time off work for his son. The kid has… issues and needs his father.”

Nate frowned, not understanding. “Then what’s the problem if nothing is changing for you?”

“Ian intends to reinstate Andrew Reyes as the vice president of Rutledge Enterprises. I will only be responsible for the Caldwell Group starting from March.”

“And that’s a problem why exactly? I know you don’t actually enjoy running Rutledge Enterprises. You always look bored out of your mind during the meetings there.”

Ferrara shot him a hard look but didn’t actually deny it. Nate hid a smile. He was pretty damn proud of how good he’d gotten at reading his horrible boss—he could tell that Ferrara enjoyed running the Caldwell Group more.

“You told Caldwell that something was non-negotiable,” Nate said, curious. “What was that about?”

A flicker of annoyance flashed across Ferrara’s face. “Nothing.”

“You were looking at me when you said that,” Nate said, not buying it at all. “Come on, tell me.”

Ferrara stared him down.

Any sane person would have backed down.

Clearly Nate wasn’t a sane person. Stubbornly, he glared right back.

To his surprise, Ferrara gave in. He gave in. “Ian wanted me to give my assistant to Reyes, to help him acclimate to the job after a year of absence—and to make sure the guy doesn’t mess up. Reyes was a total wreck until very recently.”

Nate blinked. Wait, what? “You refused to give me to Reyes?”

“Not because you’re a good PA,” Ferrara said, sneering. “You’re barely adequate even when you’re not being disrespectful. But I refuse to give my people to that trainwreck. He’ll manage.”

Nate stared at him, unsure how to feel about it. He actually liked Andrew Reyes—he seemed like a good guy, exponentially nicer than Ferrara. He definitely wouldn’t mind working for him. But on the other hand, it would feel like he had suffered for nothing all these months if he switched to another job now. There were just two months to go until he won the bet. Not to mention that he had no intention of making a career as a PA. He was a game designer, and a pretty damn good one. He was a PA now because he was Ferrara’s. He had a point to make. A bet to win. A dickhead to take down a peg or two.

“Thanks for asking my opinion,” Nate muttered under his breath, turning to the door and leaving quickly before Ferrara could give him more tasks.

The Quality Control guys were already waiting outside the office, looking nervous and pale.

“Is he in a good mood?” one of them whispered.

Nate shrugged. “Could have been worse.” By Ferrara’s standards, he was positively in a nice mood this morning.

He walked to his desk and emailed Brenda his half-finished report. “Sorry,” he told her as he passed her desk. “He wants it ASAP.”

She just sighed, looking resigned. “Where are you going?”

“To buy him condoms,” Nate said. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”

Brenda laughed, her eyes already on the report. “I can’t believe you still have the job. I think you’re setting a new record. You must have grown on him.”

Nate laughed. Grown on him? The mere notion was bizarre.

“He still treats me like a bug under his shoe,” he said.

Brenda cocked her head to the side. “Does he? I’ve noticed that he’s softer with you these days.”

Nate chuckled. “Trust me, that’s not true.”

Ha, Ferrara being softer with him. What a ridiculous idea.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Brenda said, typing already. “You forgot to iron his shirt yesterday and he didn’t fire you. That’s pretty soft for him.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nate said with a snort. “He chewed me a new one for that, so he wasn’t soft at all. It isn’t a fireable offense.”

“The PA he had before you was fired for forgetting to bring him coffee,” Brenda said.

Nate stared at her. “Are you serious—”

A heavy hand gripped his nape. “If you’re quite done gossiping, I need you to take notes,” Satan said, turning Nate and giving him a push toward his office.

Nate sighed, not even trying to shrug the touch off. He was used to this. At this point, Nate was a little surprised that his skin didn’t have finger-shaped bruises from how many times his boss had manhandled him by his neck. He had become so used to this touch it didn’t even register as weird anymore.

He wondered if it was weird.

“What about the condoms?” he said sulkily.

“You’ll buy them during your lunch break.”

Nate imagined choking Ferrara with his own tie. Vividly.

“Fine,” he bit out.

Two months. Just two months to go.