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The security guard is still hovering behind Jenny, who’s stalled to gather her marker pens all lined up in a row with a sketchbook. I guess it’s back to the drawing board for her.
“I can and I just did. If you don’t go quietly then security will have you thrown out,” Khristian replies coolly.
“Fuck you!” Jamie spits. I tense at his angry words.
“No, fuck you for delaying my store, costing me money, being lazy, not doing your jobs and not keeping me informed. You all played a part in this and you expect me to come in here and shake your hand and say ‘good job’ while you fuck me up the ass with no lube?”
My eyes go wide as I stare at the desk. Nope, that doesn’t sound fun.
Jamie’s mouth falls open as security guard number two walks in the room. He looks similar to his counterpart, except with a short buzz cut.
“Luckily for us, Doris can pick up the slack for all five of you,” Khristian says without missing a beat. “Maybe if I had a dozen more of her, things might get fucking done around here!”
Must be good to be Doris right now. I glance her way and she looks at Khristian pensively. She’s not gloating; far from it. But she obviously knows how to do her job and then some.
Khristian cracks his neck as five people down the length of one table stand up to leave.
Security escorting them to the door. Jamie reaches it and turns to give Khristian the finger.
I roll my lips and try not to laugh at his indignant face as Khristian shakes his head.
“This is worse than I thought,” the chick next to me whispers. “Holy shit.”
I don’t even know her name. I’ve no idea who she is or what she does but it looks like everyone is on the chopping block.
I give her a small smile, hoping that she isn’t next, but then when I glance back up Khristian’s gaze meets mine, then it shifts to the woman next to me.
“Ah, so now that’s taken care of, Amanda, where are we at with our inventory?” he asks, his gaze still on me even after I look away.
In these situations, not that I’ve ever been witness to a mass firing like this, I don’t know what the protocol is. Do you look down? Or pretend to be reading your notes?
What I don’t do is turn to look at Amanda; that seems kinda harsh. She has enough pressure on her as it is.
All the while, I feel Khristian’s heat radiating toward me, along with the scent of his cologne which I swear lingers on my skin even though I showered this morning.
Now I know what they mean when they said he was a tyrant…
Chapter Nineteen
Khristian
I stare at my little Krasavitsa. If I don’t keep my eyes on her, I’m afraid I’ll dive across the desk and start throttling someone. I still have a board to explain things to, and my father who has invested his life savings into this venture.
Amanda looks like a deer caught in headlights. She’s my main buyer. I don’t know what she’s been doing these last few weeks; judging by the looks of her ridiculously long, shiny talons, she’s been spending more time at the nail salon than doing any work or getting any stock.
“Well, sir. I have meetings lined up with several…”
“Lined up?” Even though I speak only two words, I sense the heckles rising as the tension mounts. I’m pissed, to say the least. The marketing department is completely useless. “You’ve had months to line up meetings. I need to see actual results. What the fuck do I do with a jewelry store with no goods?”
Reluctantly, I shift my gaze to Amanda. I’m so fucking bored. I need to get down to business and here I am, stuck in here dealing with a bunch of imbeciles.
“Morgan and I were having a meeting about suppliers, the negotiations have been a little left field…”
“Morgan flew in yesterday to try and salvage what little credibility we have among our reps who you’ve been dealing with,” I fire back. “So why are you mentioning her as if she had something to do with the fact that you, Amanda Richards, haven’t secured one single fucking diamond or gold contract. I’ve had calls from my own personal suppliers asking me if I’m not happy with their service…”
“Many are busy, they don’t often get back to me. I have contacted several diamond traders — a lot don’t have the quality that we are looking for at Tre’sor.”
“Which is all part of the negotiating experience. I don’t have to tell you that, do I? These are suppliers handed to you by Morgan. According to your resume, you do have a bachelor’s degree in sales and marketing. Surely you possess some kind of negotiating skills, if not evaluating quality goods when they’re presented to you. You realize you don’t have to fly to Botswana to set up a business meeting, right?” I unfold my glasses from my top pocket and put them on, opening the file in front of me where there should be a stack of information as thick as a brick. Instead, two papers sit there and those are from Morgan.
