Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Nate flushed. “No, it isn’t all,” he bit out, stepping closer. He glowered at the man, his pulse beating so fast he could actually feel it. His anger was making it hard to put his thoughts into words, and he breathed in deeply—and ended up inhaling the asshole’s aftershave or cologne. It smelled good. Classy and masculine. Probably cost a gazillion dollars.
“What your company did to the IP is a travesty,” he ground out at last. “If you can’t do the IP justice, sell it to a competent developer that will.”
The man laughed, his white teeth flashing against his golden skin. “You hear that, Daniel?” he said, clearly talking to the man behind him, even though his eyes remained on Nate. “The boy says we should sell the IP to a competent developer.”
The man—Daniel—laughed uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction was expected from him but wanted to please that dick. It was absolutely sickening.
“If you’re surrounded by suck-ups”—Nate sneered at Daniel for a moment before glowering at Ferrara—“it’s no wonder you don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground.”
Daniel made a hissing sound, probably scandalized that Nate dared to speak in such a way to his asshole of a boss, who clearly was some kind of very important person in the company.
The security guards stepped closer, frowning. “Mr. Ferrara, we’ll escort the—”
Ferrara lifted his hand and they came to a halt. “Daniel,” he said, still looking at Nate. “Have the boy brought to my office.”
Nate blinked, confused.
Daniel seemed equally confused. “Mr. Ferrara?” he said hesitantly. “What for?
“Do I have to explain myself to you?”
Daniel paled. “Of course not, Mr. Ferrara. It will be done, sir.” He signaled to the guards and they moved toward Nate just as Ferrara turned and strode toward the building.
Nate frowned at his back, feeling bewildered and pleased in equal measure. Was it possible the dickhead was actually going to hear him out?
***
He was brought to Ferrara’s office.
Or, to be exact, to the reception room outside his office. And then Nate was told to wait. Which would have been fine if it hadn’t been three hours already.
Nate glared at the golden plaque on the door that seemed to mock him.
Raffaele Ferrara
Executive Vice President.
So apparently that dick was the Caldwell Group’s vice president. That explained a lot. A lot. Of course a soulless corporation would have a soulless exec managing it. With every passing hour, his hope that Ferrara actually intended to listen to him had been gradually fading—until it was gone.
“All right, I’m leaving,” Nate finally said. He had better things to do with his time than sit in this ridiculously fancy room and wait for hours for an audience with the resident tyrant.
“You can’t!” the secretary said. “Mr. Ferrara told you to wait. You will wait.”
Nate scoffed and stood up. “I’m going.”
The woman—Brenda, if he remembered correctly—sprang to her feet, panic flashing across her face. “You must stay. Please. I’ll be the one getting the brunt of his anger if his orders aren’t carried out.”
Nate sighed and dropped back into his chair. Sometimes being a nice person sucked; it really did. But he didn’t want the poor woman to suffer because of him. “Why won’t you quit instead of working for that asshole?”
Brenda grimaced and turned back to her computer. “Please don’t talk about Mr. Ferrara in that way,” she whispered.
Nate rolled his eyes. “Come on, he isn’t here. Why are you all so scared of him? He’s just a guy.”
Brenda shot him a look that reminded Nate of the way his sister looked at adorable but utterly clueless children.
The phone on her desk rang. From the way her entire body stiffened up, Nate could guess who it was.
She picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Ferrara,” she said timidly. “No, sir… Yes, of course, I’ll do it right away… The report is done, yes… Of course, sir… They said they’d get it ready by four o’clock… Of course, sir… Yes, sir.”
Nate scoffed. He hadn’t thought people still addressed their bosses as “sir” in the twenty-first century. It was so weird. He’d had a summer internship at a pretty big company last summer—though not as big as the Caldwell Group, of course—and everyone called the exec by his first name. Not to mention Ferrara was pretty young for his position—he couldn’t be much older than thirty, maybe thirty-five at most.
“Yes, Mr. Ferrara… Of course. Yes, he’s still waiting for you. Right away, sir.” Brenda hung up and exhaled. Then she looked at Nate. “Go. He’s waiting for you.”
Nate was kind of tempted to make him wait for a change, but he really was sick of waiting and wondering, so he marched into the man’s office.
The door clicked shut behind him, cutting off all the sounds from outside the room.
Nate cleared his throat.