He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that he should keep his mouth shut, but…
“You aren’t mad?” Nate said. “I spent fifteen thousand dollars on my clothes.”
Ferrara looked up. “Yes,” he said slowly, as if he were talking to a small, stupid child. “On my orders. Why would I be ‘mad’?”
Holy shit.
Like, holy shit. Nate knew Ferrara must have been very rich, but this inability to comprehend that Nate had spent a stupid amount of his money—exponentially more than he should have—was a reminder that this man was from a completely different world. Fifteen grand didn’t even register as a substantial amount of money for him. So much for his attempt to teach the asshole a lesson.
“Eh,” Nate said. “Right.”
“By the way, take this,” Ferrara said, without looking at him. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and put it on the desk.
“What is it?” Nate said, eyeing it with a frown.
“This is my second phone. The one I use for business associates and unimportant acquaintances. From now on, you will be responsible for taking all my calls and deciding which calls deserve my attention and which you should be getting rid of. Don’t bother me without a very good reason.”
Nate stared at him incredulously. “How am I supposed to know which are which?”
Ferrara finally shifted his eyes to him, his gaze flat and hard. “You’ll learn. Or you’re fired.”
Right.
Keep your cool. Prove the asshole wrong. Keep the job for six months, get rid of the microtransactions in your favorite franchise, get a recommendation letter, and an excellent opportunity to gloat.
He could do this.
He could.
***
“What is this?” Maya said, her gaze snapping to the shopping bags as soon as Nate returned home.
“Clothes,” Nate grumbled, dropping the bags into his sister’s lap before falling onto the couch and groaning. He was so tired he felt like he could sleep for a week. And this was just his first day.
His eyes closed, he ignored Maya’s gasp of surprise as she opened the bags.
“Wait, how can you even afford this?” his sister said.
“It’s basically a work uniform. My dick of a boss says his assistant can’t look shabby.”
“Dick of a boss?” Maya said with a laugh. “Mine hasn’t even bought me a sandwich. Did he seriously buy these clothes for you? As a gift?”
Nate snorted. “I doubt Satan thought about it in those terms. He’s a billionaire. It’s a drop in the ocean for him. He gave me his credit card and told me to buy clothes. I spent fifteen thousand dollars—I wanted to piss him off so badly, but he didn’t even blink! And then he tore me a new one when I made his coffee wrong. Can you believe that?”
“Must be nice to be that rich,” Maya said with a chuckle. “Still. It’s kind of nice of him.”
Nate laughed himself sick.
“Nice?” he said when he calmed down a little. “Trust me, he’s not nice. I’m convinced he’s Satan in disguise. I wanted to punch him probably ten times today and you have no idea how hard it was to restrain myself. Ugh, just thinking about him makes me so mad!”
Maya looked at him carefully, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. “Are you sure your silly bet is worth it? Half a year is a long time if you hate your job and your boss.”
Nate looked away, ignoring the sudden pang of doubt. It was too late to backtrack now. Besides, it wasn’t a silly bet. Personal benefits aside, it was for a good cause. If Ferrara kept his word and actually removed the pay-to-win microtransactions from Rangers 5, that would be totally worth the pain.
“It’s worth it,” he said firmly before smiling. “I can do it, don’t worry.”
He sounded more confident than he felt.
Chapter 4
Four months later
If there was justice in the world, then afterlife existed, and Nate’s horrible boss would end up in hell after meeting his unfortunate end. But then again, Raffaele Angelo Ferrara would probably feel right at home there, considering that he was either Satan personified or closely related to him.
Yes, that was right: his boss’s middle name was actually Angel, which was hilarious on so many levels Nate had laughed out loud when he’d found out. Then again, Lucifer was technically an angel, so it was probably fitting.
“Schedule,” Satan said tersely, drinking his coffee.
Nate looked at his notes. “A meeting with the Quality Control team at 9:10. Then you need to be at Rutledge Enterprises for the board meeting at 10:00. The phone call with Sony’s Briar Ryan at 11:00 about the exclusivity deal. Emily Stevens has requested a meeting at 11:30 regarding the crunch concerns—”
“Decline,” Ferrara cut in without even looking at him.
Nate glared at him. “The developers are overworked,” he ground out. “It’s bad for the company, too. Lack of free time and poor work-life balance affect their efficiency and—”