Flipping His Script: A Loathing to Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  "But I thought they were getting engaged."

  I shook my head. "The way Flynn talks, they're not even together anymore."

  "Why not?"

  "I don’t know. He didn't say." I paused. "But it had to be pretty awful. You should've seen the look he gave me when I mentioned her name."

  "That bad?"

  I nodded. "Oh yeah. He might hate her even more than he hates me."

  "Oh come on," Becka said. "He can't hate you. You explained everything, right?" She smiled. "And even apologized, too."

  I loved Becka. Really, I did. But sometimes, she could be so hopelessly naïve. Yes, I'd tracked down Flynn as soon as I'd had the freedom to do so. Unfortunately, he didn't want my apology – or an explanation.

  At the time, he'd been out of juvie for just a few weeks, and I'd been desperate to see him in spite of the fact that there was nothing I could do to help – other than grovel for his forgiveness, that is.

  I still recalled tracking him down at some gas station three towns over. I'd waited until closing and then nabbed him by surprise in the parking lot. Funny to think, it was similar to what he'd done to me last night.

  Was that why he'd done it?

  To show how perfectly we'd switched places?

  At the gas station, Flynn not only had refused to accept my apology, he'd also told me to get lost and run back to – in his words – my "rich daddy."

  What a joke.

  Gordon wasn't my dad. And his money had brought me nothing but grief.

  Still, as far as the apology, I'd tried. That was something, right?

  Apparently not.

  I knew this because several days later, I had further proof that Flynn still hated me, even after all these years.

  Chapter 14

  Anna

  When I pulled up to the address, I did a double take. It wasn't a construction site anymore. Rather, it was an actual house, or more accurately, a huge mansion unlike anything I'd ever seen, even back when I'd been the one with money.

  Although the house looked completely finished, the yard was still buzzing with activity. Out front, at least a dozen landscapers were planting bushes and flowers along the main walkway while another crew worked on completing a tall brick wall that surrounded the oversized yard.

  Beyond the wall, a dense forest of mature trees was already budding with the promise of spring.

  Finished or not, the whole setup was beyond spectacular, at least from the outside. The house was big and sprawling, with two stories, lots of windows, and intricate stonework all along the front.

  It looked like something out of a fairy tale. But what kind?

  The kind where the girl gets munched by monsters?

  I shuddered. Let's hope not.

  As I parked in the turnaround and made my way up to the massive front door, I couldn’t help but wonder why he'd built the place here, on the outskirts of Sugar Falls, when he could've built anywhere in the country, or even in the whole world for that matter.

  Was this his super-secret getaway or something?

  Probably.

  Funny, I wouldn't mind getting away, too – providing I could get away from him in the process.

  Bracing myself, I rang the bell and waited. When Flynn answered wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt, I summoned up a tentative smile. "Well, here I am."

  Without bothering to smile back, he motioned for me to come inside, where I was surprised to see that the interior was not only completed, but fully furnished too.

  The place had it all – rugs, furniture, paintings, you name it – and not the cheap stuff either.

  I knew this, because over the last few years, I'd become an expert – on the cheap stuff, that is.

  Trying not to gawk, I followed silently behind him until he turned and headed up a wide, ornate stairway.

  I stopped just below the first step. "Where are you going?"

  He turned and gave me a look. "You mean, 'Where are we going?'"

  The other night, I'd made it perfectly clear that our arrangement was for show only, meaning that any real boyfriend-girlfriend stuff was completely out of the question.

  Even now, I wasn't sure what was more mortifying – that he hadn't seemed to care or that he'd actually laughed at the idea.

  As if he'd be slumming it or something.

  I squinted past him. "What's up there, anyway?"

  "What do you think?" he said. "The bedrooms."

  "Yeah, but why would we need to go up there?"

  "Well, it's not so I can fuck you, if that's your guess."

  I stiffened. "Do you have to be so crude?"

  "Yeah, because you're wasting time." He eyed me with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "And as far as the fucking goes, don't worry, I'm not interested."

  My face burned with embarrassment. Did he think that I was?

  I hadn't dressed for seduction, but I wasn't a total slob either. In truth, it had taken me a painfully long time to select the simple navy skirt and casual short-sleeved top that I'd finally settled on, only after rejecting at least five other outfits.

  It wasn't that I'd wanted to impress him, but I had been determined to not humiliate myself – or to give him yet another reason to scorn me.

  Turns out, I shouldn't've bothered.

  "Good," I said. "Because I'm not interested either."

  And I wasn't. Oh sure, he might be every other girl's fantasy, but he so wasn't mine – not anymore.

  Over the last few years, I'd spent a lot time thinking about him, wishing that I could've done things differently. And then, when he'd hit it big, I'd been obscenely happy for him.

  I was still happy for him, or at least I tried to be, but he was proving to be such a jackass that my lingering guilt was quickly morphing into something else. Annoyance? Hatred? Raw loathing?

  I wasn't sure, but I did know that four months in his company would be no picnic.

  Wordlessly, he turned once again to head up the stairs, leaving me to follow obediently after him. I stood my ground for a long moment before heaving a sigh and stomping up after him.

  At the top of the stairway, he turned to the left, not bothering to look back to confirm that I was still following. No doubt, he could hear me, considering that I wasn't treading lightly.

  A few paces down the hall, he stopped and pushed open a door, revealing a spacious bedroom, lavishly decorated in all pink. I frowned. The pink was the same shade as my work uniform – the walls, the bedspread, and cripes, even the carpet.

  It was like Pinkie's Waffle Palace on steroids, well, if Pinkie's décor was new and expensive, that is. Still, that shade of pink couldn’t be a coincidence. And it really was hideous.

  When I turned to give Flynn a questioning look, he said, "Your bedroom."

  I froze. "What?"

  He gestured toward the room's interior. "This bedroom, it's yours."

  "What do you mean it's mine?"

  "It's where you'll be staying."

  If so, this was news to me – and not welcome news either.

  Chapter 15

  Anna

  His announcement hung in the air as I tried to process what he'd just told me. I'd be staying here? In his house?

  I felt my gaze narrow. "But wait. You never mentioned that."

  He gave a casual shrug. Even worse, he looked annoyingly fine doing it. "I figured you'd be smart enough to know."

  I glared up at him. "What are you implying? That I’m stupid?"

  "Hey, you said it, not me."

  "Gee thanks."

  With a scoff, he said, "What, you thought it was a part-time gig?"

  "Well, I didn't know it was a live-in gig, because you never said so."

  "Because you never asked."

  "I shouldn’t have to ask," I said. "You should've told me."

  "All right, I'm telling you now."

  "But you can't do that!" I protested.

  "Yeah? Why not?"

  "Because you're changing the deal." I still hadn't entered the
godawful pink bedroom and had no intention of doing so, ever. "If you think I’m staying here, forget it."

  He leaned back against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, making his muscles pop in a way that was stupidly distracting. "All right. I'll play along. How do you see this working out?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "You think you're gonna stay in that shitty little apartment?"

  "Hey! It's not that shitty." It was a lie, of course. The place was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. It was small and bleak, with only one bathroom and a kitchen so tiny, it was barely usable.

  My sister and I shared a bedroom, for crying out loud.

  If the place hadn't come furnished, we'd probably be sharing a bed.

  How embarrassing was that?

  But there was a reason we'd been staying in such a low-rent place. My mom had been devastated when Gordon had been sent away, and she'd been unable to hold down a job.

  On top of that, after the legal bills and fines and everything else, we'd been dead broke.

  No. We were worse than broke. We were so deep in debt, we'd probably never find our way out.

  A few years ago, when the legal bills started rolling in, we'd all agreed to share a place, to pool our resources, just until things got better. The only problem was, they never did.

  My stomach sank. Maybe they never would.

  It suddenly struck me that I'd been living a temporary life for so long that it was starting to feel permanent. I gave the ugly pink bedroom another glance. Would staying here really be so bad compared to where I was living now?

  I honestly didn't know.

  Regardless, I didn't like the idea of being tricked.

  Across from me, Flynn said, "Just answer the question."

  I was so lost in thought that I wasn't quite sure what he meant. "What question?"

  "Let's say you stay in that apartment of yours, how do you see it playing out?"

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I guess the way it's always played out."

  "You got security there?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Security," he repeated. "Alarm system? Armed guards? Anything like that?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, like I'd need it."

  Flynn's only reply was a long, cold look.

  As the silence stretched out between us, I considered the situation at-hand. Right now, I was a total nobody. I wasn't rich, famous, or even remotely interesting to anyone beyond my own circle. During the last couple of years, even Gordon's criminal activity had become old news.

  But if I were dating someone like Flynn Archer? Well, that would change everything, wouldn't it? I sure as heck wouldn’t be anonymous anymore.

  Thinking out loud, I said, "So you want me to move in for my own safety? Is that it?"

  "No. But that's the reason you'll do it."

  I muttered, "Well, that's nice."

  "If you want nice," he said, "you've got the wrong guy."

  That wasn't quite true. At the restaurant, he'd been nice to Betsy and Michael. But of course, he didn't hate them like he hated me.

  Into my silence, he said, "Look, you're gonna be getting a lot of attention. Some of it won't be the fun kind. If you're here, you'll be spared the worst of it." His voice hardened. "But no, that's not the reason you'll be staying."

  "Actually, I won't be staying at all, just like I told you."

  "You will if you wanna get paid."

  My jaw dropped. "But you can't do that. It's changing the rules."

  Unmoved, he said, "The place you live in, it's a shithole. You know that, right?"

  As if I could forget.

  "And," he continued, "no one's gonna be buying what we're selling if we're not sleeping in the same house."

  "Yeah, well maybe I'm old-fashioned."

  Regardless of what Flynn might think, this was actually true. While I wasn't a virgin, I also wasn't the kind of girl who'd move in on the first date, even if the guy was rich and famous.

  He replied, "Old-fashioned or not, they won't buy the story if you're living in a dump."

  I gave him a thin smile. "I thought you said it was a shithole."

  "Same difference."

  I made a point of eying him up and down. Even in casual clothes, he looked insanely wealthy. Maybe it was the house, or the way he held himself. Either way, it was beyond obvious that he didn't belong in a dumpy little apartment – or with any girl who'd call such a place home.

  Still, his attitude grated. "So this is all about your image? Is that it?"

  "If that's what you wanna call it."

  "What would you call it?"

  "Being smart."

  Back in the day, I used to be smart. In high school, I'd gotten mostly A’s. Even in college – yeah, I went for three whole years – I did pretty well for myself.

  But that was before the money ran out and my life became so stupidly consumed with survival, not just my own, but Becka's too. The only reason she was taking classes was because I absolutely insisted on it.

  If it were just me, maybe I could've gotten past all of this. I could've finished college, moved away, gotten a better job.

  I definitely wouldn't be working at the waffle place or living in a town where everyone could see just how far I'd fallen.

  But my mom was still refusing to move, and so was Becka – not because she loved it here, but because she refused to leave my mom. And me? I couldn’t leave Becka to handle the burden on her own.

  So here I was – trapped in limbo.

  Still, there was a part of me – a very small and selfish part of me – that found the idea of getting away from it all, if only for a few months, oddly appealing.

  How messed up was that?

  Of course, it would be a lot more appealing if I weren't dealing with Flynn Archer in the process.

  I gave him a pointed look. "Where's your bedroom?"

  He flicked his head to the right. "End of the hall."

  The way it looked, we had several bedrooms between us. That was good, right?

  But then, I felt my gaze narrow. Like an idiot, I'd been almost ready to agree to something that we'd never discussed. I heard myself say, "If I'm staying, I want a raise."

  His eyebrows lifted. "A raise."

  "Yes. A raise." I met his gaze without flinching. "I mean, when we talked, you didn't say it was for nights, too."

  "And you didn't say it was a problem."

  "Yeah, because you never asked."

  Back in Flynn's car, he'd offered me what had sounded like a fortune – ten thousand dollars a month. After the four-month stint, I'd have forty thousand dollars.

  To Flynn, this was probably pocket change. But to me, it was a ton of money. Maybe I was stupid for demanding a raise, but I was getting a bad feeling about all of this.

  Flynn hated me, even more than I realized. That much was obvious.

  And if I gave in on this, I'd be setting myself up for who-knows-what down the road.

  Besides, he wasn't the only one who could change the rules.

  He gave me a long calculating, look. "And what are you gonna give me in return?"

  Well, not my body, that's for sure.

  Good thing, considering he didn't want it.

  Setting aside that humiliation, I said, "I shouldn’t have to give you anything. You're the one who added something extra."

  "Says you, not me."

  "But it's still true."

  Just when I thought he'd tell me to shove it, he smiled that famously cold smile of his and said, "All right, I'll make you a deal. You keep it up for four months, I'll give you a bonus at the end."

  "How big of a bonus?"

  He gave it some thought. "Double."

  My breath caught. "You mean another forty thousand?" When I'd asked for a raise, I wasn't thinking of anything nearly that big. And for some reason, this was making me nervous, too.

  He said, "But only if you make it 'til the end."

  I tried to think. Would I
make it to the end?

  For that kind of money, you bet your ass I would.

  I forced a smile. "Deal."

  "And," he said, "you start tonight."

  My smile faded. "Tonight? What do you mean?"

  "Look, Anna. We both know you're not stupid, so cut the clueless act, all right?"

  I stiffened. "It's not an act. What do you think? That I do this sort of thing every day? Well, I don't, so excuuuuuuse me if I'm having a hard time keeping up."

  "Right," he said, looking anything but convinced. As I watched, he strode into the hideous pink bedroom and opened a door on the far end, revealing a spacious closet packed wall-to-wall with clothing in a multitude of colors and styles.

  I couldn't help but stare. They weren't men's clothes, that was for sure. I asked, "Whose stuff is that?"

  "Yours," he said. "For now."

  "What do you mean?"

  He glanced at his watch. "I mean, find something to wear. You've got a manicure at five."

  I glanced down at the outfit I was already wearing. It wasn't that bad, was it? Then again, it was older than dirt.

  But that was beside the point. I told Flynn, "I can't."

  "You can't what?"

  "The manicure," I said. "I mean, I've got to work at four, so…"

  His mouth tightened. "You're working now."

  "Well, yeah, but…"

  "And," he continued, "if you think you're keeping the waffle job, forget it."

  I gave a confused shake of my head. "What?"

  "We're selling a story, remember?"

  "So?"

  "So the story sucks if you're still slinging waffles at Pinkie's."

  I wanted to throttle him. "Hey! I don't sling anything. And you never said I'd have to quit my job."

  "And you never said you wouldn't."

  "Yeah, because it never came up."

  "Not my problem," he said.

  "But I can't quit."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, for one thing, because of the money." As if he didn't know.

  He gave me a hard look. "I'm paying you plenty."

  Five minutes ago, I might've argued. But that bonus, it changed everything. During four short months, I'd earn a whopping eighty-thousand dollars.

  It was more than I'd make in three full years as a waitress.

  But I wasn't quite ready to give it up. Switching tactics, I said, "All right, forget the money. Maybe I don't want to stress out my co-workers. Remember Betsy? What do you think's gonna happen if she's the only one there tonight?"