Devastated (Anger Management, #1)(12)

When she realized that he wasn’t going to do anything more than sit there and glare at her, she gave him what she hoped was a pleasant smile, clicked open her pen, and looked at him expectantly as she waited for his orders. He continued to keep her waiting until, with a sigh that could only be described as bored, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and gestured with a nod towards the planner on her lap as he asked, “What the hell is that?”

Although Kylie didn’t think it was a good idea to take her eyes off him, mostly because of that whole anger management thing that he had going for him, she forced herself to follow his glare.

“My planner?” Kylie asked, hoping that it was her beloved planner and not her presence responsible for that expression on his face, because she really wasn’t sure that she could beat him to the door. The reminder that she was working for a large, muscular man with an anger problem had her second-guessing her decision to stay.

Anger. Management, Kylie reminded herself, trying for a bland, yet polite, expression as she waited to see how this was going to play out. When he didn’t jump over the desk and go for her throat, she took that as a win and waited for him to continue. When he just sat there, glaring at her, she tried for a small smile only to quickly bite it back when his eyes narrowed even further.

For several long minutes, Hunter didn’t say anything. He just sat there, watching her, and making her wonder if they’d accept a personal check for that ten thousand dollars or if she should plan on making a quick run to the bank and get that in cash when he finally spoke.

“I have thousands of employees, clients, vendors, and contacts that you will be responsible for. That means that you need to have their phone numbers, addresses, email addresses as well as access to their files. So, tell me something, Miss Jenkins, how exactly do you plan on doing all that with a ten-dollar planner from Wal-Mart?”

“Carefully?” Kylie said before she could stop herself and she really wished that she’d been able to stop herself.

---

So, she was a smart ass, Hunter thought as he waited for her to stop staring down at the cheap planner on her lap. As he watched her, he couldn’t help but wonder if that planner was her pride and joy. When she lovingly caressed the imitation leather with her fingertips, he realized that this was the saddest fucking thing that he’d ever seen in his life.

“Do you need a moment or can we get back to work?” Hunter asked when it looked like she was going to break out a sniffle and reminisce about better days.

She cleared her throat and looked up. “What would you suggest, Mr. O’Mallery?” Kylie asked, slipping back into her minion role.

“That you join the twenty-first century,” Hunter suggested as he held his hand out.

When she only sat there, frowning at his hand, he wiggled his fingers in demand. “Your phone.”

“It’s upstairs,” she answered with that same robotic smile that he was starting to find deeply disturbing.

“What is it doing upstairs?” Hunter demanded even as he pushed away from his desk and headed towards the stairs.

“I don’t use my phone while I’m working.”

“That’s real fucking helpful,” Hunter said evenly, as he took the stairs two at a time.

“Mr. O’Mallery?” Kylie called hesitantly when he reached the landing.

Since he never made a habit of explaining himself, he ignored her and headed towards her room. In three long strides, he was in her room and heading for the nightstand where he found-

“What the hell is this?” he asked in confusion as he picked up what he prayed was a joke and looked it over.

“My phone,” Kylie said, sounding embarrassed as she should be.

“It’s a flip phone,” Hunter said, turning the ancient relic over in his hands as he tried to make sense out of what he was seeing.

Could this thing even send texts? he wondered as he flipped the cellphone open to find a tiny screen. This thing had to be fifteen years old, he thought absently, as he started hitting buttons, curious to see what it could do. In a few seconds, he discovered that it wasn’t much. It could make calls, text, receive emails, and surf the web…sort of.

“Could I have my phone back, please?”

“No,” Hunter said, fascinated that anyone in this day and age could get by with a phone like this.

As he searched through her phone, making note that there were only three contacts, a small collection of emails and even fewer texts, he couldn’t help but wonder how much memory something like this had. His calculator probably had more memory than this thing, which would explain why she didn’t have much on it. Then again, he amended a few seconds later, maybe there was a reason for that.

“Is this your personal phone?” Hunter asked, because he liked to have his suspicions confirmed.

“It’s my only phone,” Kylie said calmly, but he detected a slight hesitation in her voice, one that was very telling.

Hunter glanced up from her phone to take in the cheap skirt suit that she wore, noting that while it was obviously clean, it didn’t fit her. He quickly took in the rest of her belongings, two small bags that she’d probably picked up at a thrift store, neatly placed by the door. He didn’t have to look in the bathroom to know that she probably only had the basics, hairbrush, nail clippers, toothpaste, etc.