Anything You Say: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone Romance

by Chloe Finch

  “You some kind of smartass?” Said Scarface.

  “I guess, since you’re some kind of dumbass,” Zach said. Not his finest work, but if he was going to get beaten up, he was at least going to enjoy himself in the meantime.

  Scarface sucker punched him in the stomach. Zach doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. He stumbled and braced a hand against the back of the sofa. His whole midsection was screaming in pain.

  Scarface stepped back, and watched him gasp for air and try to stand up.“Fucking hilarious,” he said. “You should be a goddamn comedian.”

  Zach knew he shouldn’t fight back. It would only fuel these two Neanderthals into a bigger rage. But he couldn’t help himself. When he struggled up to mostly standing, he punched the guy in the face.

  “You little shit,” Scarface said. And then Scarface was on him. The two of them fought like their lives depended on it. Dirty. Mean. Zach landed a few good punches and it seemed like he might actually be winning. Until Giant Mario lumbered over, eager to join in. He pulled Zach off Scarface with ease. Zach struggled to jerk away from him, but Giant Mario grabbed both his arms and held them behind his back.

  Fuck.

  Scarface swung a left hook that connected with Zach’s face. His head whipped to the side. Agony. His vision faded around the edges, brain rattled in his head. Before he could fully comprehend the pain, Scarface punched him again. His fist landed squarely on Zach’s nose and there was a loud crack. His face exploded in pain. Warm blood gushed down his face.

  Scarface punched him again in the stomach. Zach lost his balance with that one and stumbled, reeling in pain. He would have gone down if Giant Mario hadn’t been holding him up.

  “Not so smug now, are you?” Scarface said.

  Zach laughed, despite the fact that his whole body hurt. “I would have kicked your ass if you didn’t have this giant goon here to help you cheat.”

  At that, Giant Mario let go of Zach’s arms and wrapped his hands around his throat. Zach was halfway through inhaling when Giant Mario began to squeeze. His fingers dug into the side of Zach’s neck. He gasped for air, but the pressure on his throat was too much. He couldn’t breathe. He clawed uselessly at Giant Mario’s hands.

  “Listen here, fucker. We have a message from Big L,” Scarface said. “Pay up or else, bitch.”

  Scarface punched him, once again, in the face.

  Zach’s face was a kaleidoscope of white hot pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by his increasingly desperate need for air. It felt like a match had been lit in his chest, his lungs screaming in agony. He thrashed against Giant Mario, who laughed at his struggle.

  The edges of Zach’s vision were beginning to darken. The fire in his chest rose up, all the way to his eyes. He was beginning to panic. These two numbskulls weren’t assassins, but he sure as hell didn’t put accidental murder past them. Could this really be the worthless way he dies? And then, when he was moments away from passing out, Giant Mario let go.

  Zach stumbled and fell, wheezing and coughing on all fours. He took huge gulps of air, never so grateful to be able to breathe in his life. He wished for a glass of water.

  Giant Mario took a step closer and kicked Zach in the ribs. In the process, he managed to step on Zach’s pinkie finger. Zach yelled out in pain and fell flat on his stomach. A searing pain ran across his ribcage. Everything hurt. He couldn’t just lie there though. He struggled back up to his knees.

  “Is that clear enough for you?” Scarface said.

  It’s not like if he said yes they would have stopped. They just wanted him to admit he was scared. Wanted him to beg. No way in hell would he give them the satisfaction. Zach looked up at them and smiled, blood running down his teeth. He rasped, “I don’t think it was. Why don’t you tell me again.”

  * * *

  Grace

  Her parents were both asleep by the time she got home. Her mom always wrapped up Grace’s dinner plate when she worked late and left it in the fridge with a note on it. Tonight, the note was simply a heart. She stood in the dark kitchen, texting Jessica by the light of the microwave.

  Jessica: Why would he keep his twin a secret? So sketchy. Grace: No idea. Sounds like they haven't spoken in a long time though. Jessica: Two Zachs...*shudder* Grace: I know, right? His brother was actually way nicer. Jessica: Aw we got stuck with the bad one? Grace: Apparently. Jessica: What's his brother do? Grace: I don't know. I didn't ask. Seemed like something outside maybe? Jessica: Nice, lumberjack Zach sounds kinda hot actually. Grace: Not worth the trouble. Jessica: True. Are you worried he's going to be mad if he finds out you gave out his contact info? Grace: Yes. Lol. I don't think he will though. Derek promised me he wouldn't tell him Jessica: You trust him on that? Grace: Not very reassuring! Jessica: sorry. It'll be fine! Maybe they'll fix their relationship and he'll thank you! Grace: -_-

  She turned on the light over the island and sat to eat the leftovers. On the train home she had realized there was something off about the whole situation with Derek, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Was it because he was dirty? The puffer jacket zipped all the way up when it was 60 degrees out? Those weren’t reasons not to trust him. It probably just meant he worked in construction or something. But why hadn’t he just called the office?

  What else could she have done, given the circumstances.? His mom was sick, and Derek was obviously his brother. Nothing she could do now except hope for the best.

  * * *

  Zach

  By the time Giant Mario and Scarface were done, Zach was a bloody heap on the floor. He was vaguely aware of the door clicking shut and their fading voices moving down the stairs. There was blood everywhere. The antique glass coffee table was broken. His entire body hurt.

  Eventually he peeled himself off the floor and limped to the bathroom, where he spat blood in the sink.

  He leaned on the sink for support and inspected himself. He looked like shit. As if there had been any doubt, his nose was broken, crooked and swollen He had a black eye and the whole left side of his face was bruised and quickly swelling. One of his eyes was bright red, filled with blood, probably from being strangled.

  He ran the tap, and gingerly splashed water on his face. His hands, too, were covered in dry blood and cuts. He studied his pinkie finger, which hurt intensely and wouldn’t bend all the way.

  He was at least glad he had been wearing gym clothes, so he wouldn’t have to take a bloody suit to the drycleaner. More than anything, he was livid. Zach didn’t know anyone named Big L. But he knew who probably did.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, noting the freshly cracked screen, and dialed a number he hadn’t in more than six months.

  A familiar voice answered.

  “Hey bro.”

  “I’m going to fucking kill you, Derek,” Zach began.

  “Slow down dude. What happened?” Derek said, concerned.

  “Cut the shit. I just had a visit from friends of Big L. Sound familiar?”

  Derek dropped the innocent act almost immediately. “You weren’t answering my texts or calls. Big L wouldn’t have sent someone to your apartment if you had just paid.”

  Zach imagined punching Derek’s face in. He went to pinch the bridge of his nose and remembered at the last second it was broken.

  “I told you I was cutting you off until you got your shit together. I blocked your number.

  “It was an emergency,” Derek whined.

  “What was?” His head was throbbing in pain.

  “I got in a little over my head.”

  “How much?” Zach was losing patience. He knew exactly where this was headed.

  “Fifty thousand.”

  “Christ, Derek. I told you I wasn’t going to do this anymore.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up, okay? But what do you want from me?”

  “I want you out of my life.” Zach opened the medicine cabinet. All he had for first aid was an ancient bottle of peroxide and a package of Band-Aids with
only the smallest size left. At least there was aspirin.

  “And I will be. This is the last time, I promise.”

  “What if I say no?” He grabbed the peroxide and began pouring it on his cut-up hands, relishing the burn.

  “Well,” Derek said delicately. “I don’t think you have a choice. I gave them your address and phone number. They think you’re me.”

  Rage coursed through Zach, so intense it could have started a fire. One of Derek’s classic shitty games. He tricked him into bailing him out. The old twin switcharoo.

  “Who gave you my address?”

  Derek didn’t hesitate. “This hot little piece of ass from your office, Grace something or other. She thinks you’re an asshole by the way, but I think she liked me.”

  Zach didn’t know it was possible to be angrier than he already was. But little miss know-it-all being the cause of his misery? Sticking her nose where it didn’t belong? He knew what he needed to do. His anger turned into dangerous calm. She wasn’t going to get away with this. The goody-goody was going to pay.

  Chapter Four

  Grace

  In the days after her run-in with Derek, she nearly forgot all about it. Work was crazy, as always, and if it weren’t for the fact that Zach hadn’t been at work all week, she probably would have completely forgotten. For the first couple days Zach was out, she kept turning around every time the door opened, expecting to see him walk in. It wasn’t that she missed him, exactly. She enjoyed the reprieve from his taunting. But it was surprisingly dull without him around.

  On Thursday, Grace was sitting in the training room waiting for Brad and June to get started, absently spinning her reading glasses in one hand, when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Gracie.”

  She nearly jumped out of her skin. He was back. And he was angry.

  And to her shock when she turned around, he looked terrible. Standing in the doorway, he was covered in bruises and scabbed-over cuts. His nose was crooked and swollen and he had a black eye. He looked like he lost a fight. A gnarly one. It was a starling juxtaposition against the immaculate suit. Everyone was staring. It would have been hard not to.

  He ignored them. “Out here. Now,” he growled. His voice was gravely, like he was getting over a sore throat.

  She leapt up, heart pounding, and followed him.

  He stalked down the hall and she scurried behind him. He was walking with a slight limp. He led her to an empty conference room on the total opposite side of their floor, at the end of a dead-end hall.

  When he closed the door, she saw that his pinkie finger was swollen and purple and didn’t bend with the other fingers. He turned to face her. He was furious. She went around to the other side of the conference table, foolishly, wanting a barrier between them. The room was freezing and she wished she’d grabbed her blazer on the way out of the training room.

  “What the fuck makes you think you have the right to stick your nose in my personal life?” He said.

  She had known it was coming the moment he said her name. Derek sold her out. And by the looks of it, the two of them had gotten into a nasty fight. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and began again, willing herself to stay calm. She was reminded of the nerve-fraying days of pitching to VCs. If she kept things professional, maybe she could retain a shred of dignity.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you’d want to know about your mom. I made a judgment call and clearly I was wrong.” She made a point of looking him in the eye, defiantly.

  “What about my mother?” He was standing in front of the whiteboard, hands on his hips. His dark suit was outlined against the bright white like a cartoon. There was a bruise down one side of his neck that looked disturbingly similar to a handprint.

  “Didn’t Derek tell you?” She was intentionally vague. If for some reason Derek hadn’t broken the news, she didn’t want Zach to hear it from her first.

  “My mother has been dead for nearly 15 years,” he said flatly.

  Wait, what? It didn’t make any sense. Was it possible she misunderstood something? Was there another woman Derek was referring to, a step-mom or something? She blinked, confused. “But Derek said—”

  Zach interrupted her. “Derek’s a fucking junkie. And he’s always been a liar.”

  All the things that stuck out as odd about the conversation with Derek suddenly made sense. The strange outfit, the fidgeting, wanting his address instead of his phone number. He was manipulating her the whole time. Flattering her and flirting with her just to get what he wanted. She had trusted him so easily. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.

  “Sorry doesn’t begin to cut it,” he said. He came around the table so they were toe to toe. She fought the urge to run. “You have no idea what you’ve done. With your perfect little life with mom and dad in some mansion in Westchester. You couldn’t even conceive what fucked up stuff is going on in other people’s lives.”

  This made her mad. He had no idea what her life was. “You don’t know me. I have plenty of my own problems to deal with,” she said, pointing a finger at his chest. “How am I supposed to know you have a shitty relationship with your brother? Do you expect everyone to treat you like you’re in the witness protection program?”

  “You have no idea what real problems are, princess,” he spat.

  Princess? Her blood boiled. She was so sick of his shit. “So mature. You’re just pissed off that you got in a fight with Derek and you obviously lost.”

  He laughed. A cruel, scornful laugh. He was suddenly calm. It was somehow more menacing than the yelling. “Is that what you think?” He said, voice low. “I’d break Derek’s fucking neck in a fight.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why don’t you enlighten me, then.”

  “He owes some lowlife drug dealer fifty thousand dollars. But dear old Derek blew through his money ages ago. You know who does have fifty grand though?”

  He paused, waiting for an answer. He was patronizing her, but he wasn’t going to continue until she answered.

  “You.” She didn’t like where this was going.

  “That’s right. A+ Gracie,” he said sarcastically. “The thing is—as you may have noticed since you met my charming brother the other day—Derek and me, we’re identical twins. You know what that means?”

  She didn’t understand what he was getting at, but he was waiting for her to respond. “You came from the same egg?” She said, annoyed.

  “Yeah, if you want to be technical about it. I was talking more on a practical level. It means a lot of people can’t tell us apart.” He rubbed his chin pensively.

  When Grace didn’t respond, he continued. “We used to play this prank on girls in college. Three or four dates into seeing some new girl, we’d switch which one of us went out with her, see if she noticed. Most of the time they did, but not right away. And there were a couple times we completely got away with it.”

  “That sounds unethical,” Grace said.

  “It was. But my point is, we pass for each other. Still can. And since Derek’s a fucking disaster these days, he likes to play the old twin swap prank without telling me.”

  Her heart turned to ice. It was finally dawning on her what he was getting at with this line of conversation, and that she might have done something very wrong.

  “Oh god, Zach.” His injuries suddenly didn’t look like the result of a nasty fight between brothers. They looked like the violent result of not paying a debt. Her gaze flicked back to the bruise shaped like a handprint on his neck.

  “There it is.” He snapped his fingers. “I knew you’d catch on eventually. He sent the lowlife after me instead. And those types don’t tend to like the you’ve-got-the-wrong-guy defense.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said. Her voice cracked.

  “Of course you fucking didn’t,” he spat. “But you think you know everything. And that’s the problem.”

  “Is that why…?
” She couldn’t finish the question. Despite her best efforts, tears spilled over her cheeks.

  He came closer, towering over her. He was fuming, as if her remorse only fueled his anger. “You want me to spell it out? I got beaten half to death by two thugs in my own fucking apartment because of you.”

  * * *

  Zach

  She was crying. Good. He wanted her to know exactly what she did. That she was directly responsible for his broken nose, the bruised windpipe, the shattered finger, the cracked ribs. She deserved to feel bad. Maybe Derek would have found another way to track him down if Grace had refused, but she sure as shit made it easy for him.

  She looked so small right then, standing there crying. So vulnerable. It made him angry. He didn’t need her sympathy. He wanted her to suffer like he had suffered. He wanted to hurt her. Take her. Claim her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. She wiped at her eyes and the tears kept coming. God, those fucking tears. They did something to him. Turned him into a monster of lust and rage.

  In an instant he was on her. Kissing her hard. Wrapping his arms tight around her waist. Claiming her mouth. Crushing her against him. The left side of his face screamed in pain, but he didn’t care. He wanted to kiss her so hard he hurt her.

  She was into it. She leaned into the kiss, his hard-on pressed against her stomach.

  The conference room was cold and her skin was cool and soft under his hands. She relaxed in his arms, giving herself over to him with no resistance. There was nothing he loved more than when women let go and let him take charge.

  He was overwhelmed with desire. He grabbed anything he could—her ass, her hair. His pinkie throbbed with pain. His lip split back open. Did she taste blood on his lips? He hoped so. He wanted her to know he bled because of her.

  Her lips tasted like salt. The tears—those fucking tears. He hated them and he loved them. He ran his tongue up her cheek, licking them off her face and she shivered. She didn’t stop him. Her eyes were closed, and her face was so smooth. Her lips were so soft and juicy.