95. Pain-in-Asshole Boss
95. Pain-in-Asshole Boss
Emara Stone
What does he think of himself?
With the kinky box in my hand, I stomp inside the Psycho King’s chamber.
Dakota is sitting on his throne in a perfectly ironed brown shirt, clear glasses resting on his nose, looking every inch of cold-hearted dictator he thinks he is.
Like a workaholic robot, he focuses on his laptop, when I slam the vibrator box onto his desk so hard the entire table shudders.
Pens rattle. His coffee almost spills. And the air seems to flinch as I growl at him, “What. Nonsense. Is. This?”
Green eyes look up at me slowly, glaring sharply like I am a fly in his Black coffee. Then his gaze drifts to the SelfLove lipstick and the corner of his mouth curves into a sly grin.
This motherfather!
Dakota takes a deep breath, slowly reclining on his CEO chair with the confidence of a Roman God.
“You said you were an independent woman and need no man.” His smirk widens, “So when I saw this in the mall, it reminded me of you.”
My blood pressure shoots through the roof.
“You are sick.” I hiss, every muscle in my face twists in pure disgust, “I am officially done with you now.”
Done with his emotional ping-pong.
Done with his hot and cold nonsense.
And done with this corporate hell which is making me work for pennies and dimes.
FUCK IT!
Dakota raises his authoritative brow at me, “If you are really done..” He lifts his wrist and glances at his watch, “I would expect you to finally submit your project report that has been due for more than eighty four hours now.”
I stare at him with my jaw hitting the floor.
I cannot believe this is the same man who drunk called me last night, saying he was missing me and how my face looked like the moon.
And now, he is behaving like the pain-in-asshole boss with zero signs of I-am-high-on-love.
I slap my hand flat on his desk as I lock my eyes with him and spit, “Fuck you and your project report!”
Dakota’s expression remains neutrally professional, as if he has seen much worse outbursts and mine wasn’t even that impressive.
“You know more than a lazy employee, what I hate the most is..” He removes his glasses disappointedly, slowly sighing, “A lying employee.”
“Huh?” I shift my weight on right leg as I stare at this mental piece with confusion.
“You keep telling me Fuck You, but you never do.” Dakota complains like a Karen at Amazon customer service.
“I am starting to wonder you are not a woman of your word, Miss Stone.” He finishes, narrowing his eyes at me.
My brain short circuits. Rage explodes through my veins like fireworks.
I jab a finger straight at his heartless-handsome face and grit, “I’ll fucking show you what a woman of word I am..”
The Tyrant King lazily raises one dark brow as I slap him with my words, “I don’t give a damn about you. Your company. Your report. Because I quit.”
I straighten my shoulders and declare like the Queen of Bitches I am, “I fire myself from your blood-sucking job!”
My chest vibrates with intense fury to take down this entire building, while Dakota just stares at me blankly. Unimpressed.
“This is MNC, not McD, Miss Stone.” Green eyes pin me in place with quiet supremacy that says I-own-this-company-and-possibly-your-soul-too.
“If you wish to resign, you will need to write a resignation letter, along with a solid reason.” He continues in full corporate demon mode, “If my schedule permits, I’ll look at your notice and we shall discuss then.”
Dakota politely smiles at me, almost romantically, “Is there anything else you want to talk about? I would love to hear your voice.”
This toe-sucking colour changing lizard!
”Just pick one damn personality and stick to it!” I snap, losing my cute as penguin persona.
“Haha! You are indeed comical, Miss Stone.” Dakota lets out a dry laugh, then tilts his head, “But did you start your work yet? Because for sure it won’t get done by just lying there.”
Fucking mercurial bitch!
I spin around on my heel and storm back to my desk like a woman on a mission to chop off balls.
I yank out a blank sheet of paper, grab the fattest marker I can find, and scribble in giant football size capital letters..
I WANT TO RESIGN.
And draw a huge dick next to it as the solid reason for my resignation. I smirk, admiring my artwork.
Picasso would have been so proud of me!
With the paper in my hand, I march right back into his cabin and announce, “I want to quit.”
My asshole boss slowly looks up from his laptop and replies in a deadpan voice, “And I want to dance naked.”
“What?” I flinch back.
Dakota calmly removes his glasses and states, “I thought we were saying things we want to do, but the other person clearly doesn’t want them to happen.”
I roll my eyes, before slapping the paper on his desk. Right under his arrogant nose.
Dakota puts his glasses back on and picks it up, asking, “What is this?”
“My resignation paper.” I educate him.
Green eyes scan the paper with the seriousness of a professor, before he looks up at me and asks, “You want to resign.. being a dick?”
“No!” I snap at him, “I want to resign. And that dick drawing is you.. As a reminder.”
He raises one brow audaciously, “Reminding me that I have a big dick?”
“God, no! That you are a dick.” I throw my hands in the air.
“Emara..” Dakota deeply sighs, folding the paper carefully, “This is art. A good one.”
And slips the paper into the breast pocket of his brown shirt like it’s a confidential document.
“But sadly, it doesn’t suffice as a resignation letter.” He tells me with a straight face, “Though I’ll keep it as a reminder of your feeble attempt to draw my cock.”
What the fuck!
“That’s not your cock!” I practically shout, “That’s your face I drew! The reason I want to quit!”
Expressions drain from his face and I sense a dark shift in his eyes as they sharpen at me, like I challenged him in his own kingdom.
“Emara..” Dakota takes my name like a warning, “I want you to go back to your desk and complete that report, or in the next ten seconds..”
He calmly raises his palm, against his psychotic low voice, “Nobody can stop me from leaving a handprint on your ass. Not even you.”
I suck in a sharp breath. I can’t believe he is threatening to spank me!
“YOU.. Little bitch!” I swear at him, causing the maniac to narrow his eyes dangerously.
“Seven.. Six.. Five..” He counts down like a mindless time bomb.
This lunatic is really serious!
“Four.. Three.. Two.”
Every survival instinct kicks in and I instantly turn on my heel, running away from the territory of this unpredictable beast.
I’ll be back, you psycho dog!