You are good at hiding (2)

You are good at hiding (2)
I know I don’t deserve to work at Phoenix Industries, much less as the CEO’s assistant. My grades were always barely above average in school, and clearly, I’m not the best time manager. There are hundreds of people who were more qualified for this role than I was.
The only reason I’m here is because Kristof pulled strings to ensure I get it.
That doesn’t mean I’m about to pack up and leave.
Caught between Rhys Redmond and Grisha Petrov, I would rather grovel for the former.
He leaves for a meeting soon after grumbling ‘you’re fired’ and returns while I’m on my lunch break.
When I notice his door slightly open, I knock and walk in.
Rhys barely looks up from his computer screen. “Are you done packing? See HR for your severance pay.”
I was upset a moment ago, but now all I feel is anger. I lock the door behind me, facing the asshole I’ve been calling my boss for the last few weeks.
“Let me guess, it’s going to be a million dollars?”
“You will find that out when you get it.”
I ignore him. “Two million? Or maybe ten million, because you need me to shut up about what happened between us. Because, let’s face it, you wouldn’t still sit here if the BOD and HR knew you fucked your assistant.”
That does catch his attention.
He looks at me like he wants to strangle me, fury making his eyes redden.
I don’t care.
He doesn’t get to cast me aside like day-old newspaper because… why exactly? I’ve heard gossip around the building about Rhys changing assistants as frequently as he changes his clothes.
According to Aubrey, that isn’t an exaggeration. He’s had assistants that lasted only until their lunch break.
Even so, I will not run away with my tail between my legs.
“If you only wanted a one-night stand, you could have said so. We’re both adults.”
Rhys’s lips twitch. “Do you think just because we fucked once, you’re above the rules? Strutting in here half an hour late, looking like a fashion disaster…”
Fifteen minutes, but who’s checking?
And I don’t look like a fashion catastrophe. Sure, my blouse isn’t ironed to crisp and my bun got a little loose from all the running, but he’s grasping at straws.
I plant my butt in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Tell me the real reason.” I demand. “You owe me that much.”
He massages his temple. “Aside from severance pay, you will receive an excellent letter of recommendation.”
“Not enough,” I insist, crossing my legs. I’m looking into his eyes, battling the urge to avert my gaze. I don’t want to cower before him no matter how terrified I feel inside. “I want to know why, and I’ll start packing.”
He grumbles under his breath about me not being done yet.
Seeing as I have no intention of leaving without answers, Rhys gives in.
“Because I’m a jerk.”
Not what I was expecting to hear.
He goes silent after the confession, and I’m too impatient to wait ten minutes for him to spurt two more words.
“Because you regretted sleeping with me and decided to get me as far from you as possible?”
“Regret?” he laughs. “Do you know how badly I want to bend you over my desk right now?”
Yeah, he really is a jerk.
And I must be more asinine than I thought, because I wouldn’t resist him if he tried.
“You’re right. Your tardiness was a convenient excuse. What I don’t want is a member of the Russian Mafia in my office, hiding secrets and potentially milling information.”
My heart leaps in my throat. “I’m not in the mafia.”
He doesn’t believe me. Shane must have lured out my skeletons, after all.
Seeing how Rhys is looking at me, I add, “not anymore.”
“And Mikhail?” He asks.
It’s easy to deny knowing him. Not many people know about my existence. Even if Shane investigated, there is no guarantee he would pin point who exactly I am.
But I ponder for a few seconds and decide I still like my head right where it is. I don’t want it chopped off.
“I am the only daughter of Mikhail Petrov. My parents and brother, Lucan, were killed by Grisha.” I pause to take in his expression. “For some reason, Grisha decided to turn against the man who took him in when his parents dropped off the map. He thinks I’m a threat because I’m the only remaining child of Mikhail Petrov. That’s why I am here. Any questions?”
Rhys smiles, then it blooms into a chuckle. What is so funny?
“Just how much do you want this job?” he asks. “You could have taken the paycheck and run away. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”
I’m done running.
“Don’t tell me this was a twisted test to see if I would tell the truth?” I ask.
Instead of answering me, Rhys beckons me over. “Come here.”
And now we’re going to pretend none of this happened. What am I to him, a toy to mess around with whenever and however he pleases?
A caged bird? When he’s in a good mood, he will give me treats but cast me aside at the slightest inconvenience?
I may have had the hots for this man since I laid my eyes on him, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat me like a pet.
I stand, but I don’t go to him. I head for the door and yank it open. “Go fuck yourself, Rhys.”
___
I’m on a roll. I wonder who I’ll piss off next after defying the head of the Bratva and telling off the CEO of Phoenix Industries. Would it be a surprise if my body turned up in a ditch?
By the time I make it back to the apartment I almost lost today, my brain is fried. I want nothing but to crawl into bed and sleep.
I take off my coat and notice something sticking out of the pocket. I take it out and frown at the folded piece of paper. Rhys couldn’t have put this in here, right? If it’s that severance check, I’m slicing his head off first thing tomorrow morning.
When I unfold the letter, I wish it were a check.
Instead, I see the handwriting I have come to dread.
\[You are quite good at hiding, Printsessa.\]