Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

by Ana Huang

  Alex’s lips curved, but the air between us suddenly weighed heavy with ghosts from the past—pickup basketball games, late-night study sessions, parties and guys’ trips and random memes we sent each other throughout the day.

  Well, l sent him memes and he replied with frowning or eye roll emojis, but Alex had a shit sense of humor, so I didn’t expect him to appreciate my excellent meme selection.

  Jules’s advice may have pushed me to extend a tentative olive branch, but the truth was, I missed having a best friend. I missed having Alex as my best friend. He was cold, rude, and grumpy as fuck, but he’d always had my back. Every fight I got into, every bad day I had, he’d been there to bail me out and talk me down.

  I took a swig of beer to wash down the sudden tightness in my throat while Alex quietly sipped his drink.

  The bar was starting to fill up, and soon, the room buzzed with enough activity to drown out the silence roaring between us.

  I finished my beer and was about to order another one when Alex interjected.

  “Two more Macallans.” He slid his black Amex across the counter and flicked a glance in my direction. “On me.”

  My first instinct was to turn it down, but I wasn’t dumb enough to say no to a free premium drink.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  More silence. God, this was fucking painful.

  “How are things going between you and Ava?” I finally asked.

  Ava always gushed about their relationship, but she was Alex’s first real girlfriend, and I was curious as hell about his perspective. If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of a long-term relationship.

  Alex’s face softened. “We’re good.”

  “Good. That’s high praise coming from you.” I wasn’t joking. The strongest positive term I’d ever heard him use was fine.

  Gourmet steak cooked by a world-famous chef? Fine.

  Flying in a private jet? Fine.

  Graduating top of his class from Thayer? Fine.

  For someone so smart, he had a limited vocabulary.

  “I love your sister,” Alex said simply.

  My glass froze halfway to my lips. Of course, I knew he loved Ava, but I never in a million years would’ve guessed he’d admit it to anyone except her.

  The Alex I knew had zero tolerance for sentimentality. Make it verbal sentimentality and his tolerance dropped into the negatives.

  “Good.” I regained motor control. My glass touched my mouth and whiskey flowed into my stomach, but the shock from Alex’s statement lingered. “Because if you hurt her again, I’ll take that stick out of your ass and stab you with it.”

  “If I hurt her again, I’ll let you.”

  A tense beat passed before I let out a short laugh. “You’ve changed.”

  Part of me appreciated the growth, while another part mourned how much time had passed since our friendship ended. Enough that we were funhouse mirror versions of ourselves—the same people at our core but distorted by the changes wrought over time.

  “Everyone changes. Without change, we might as well be dead.” It would’ve been an inspiring quote had Alex not delivered it with all the emotion of a block of ice.

  “Speaking of Ava…” He rolled his empty glass between his finger, his expression even broodier than usual. “I’d hoped we could talk before the girls came back.”

  “What do you think we’re doing right now? Chopping liver?”

  “I mean talk.”

  My smile fell.

  There it was. The giant, trumpeting elephant in the room.

  Alex and I had avoided talking about what happened since our confrontation after he broke up with Ava.

  How he became my friend only to get closer to my father.

  How he’d used Ava and broke her heart.

  How he’d lied to me for seven fucking years.

  He’d tried reaching out after he and Ava got back together, but I’d ignored him and we’d never had a real, honest conversation about it.

  It was long past due, but that didn’t stop my stomach from knotting with dread at the prospect of digging up bones from the past.

  “I understand why you’re still upset with me. It was…a betrayal of trust, what I did. But I…” Alex paused, clearly searching for the right words. A speechless Alex Volkov was a rare sight, and I would’ve reveled in it more had I not been so distracted by the burn in my chest.

  “I’ve never had many friends,” he finally said. “People flocked to me because I was rich, smart, and I could help them get what they wanted.” He listed the qualities in a detached manner, so self-assured he came off more analytical than arrogant. “They were transactional relationships, and I was fine with that. But you were my first real friend. Even if my intentions weren’t true at the start of our friendship, everything that came after was.”

  The burn intensified. “What you did was fucked up.”

  “I know.”

  I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to quiet the debate raging in my head.

  We’d reached a fork in the road. I could either stay on the circular path I’d walked for the past two years, or I could take the only exit available to me.

  The first option was comfortable and familiar, the latter unknown and scary as fuck. I didn’t want to end up betrayed and lied to again.

  But Jules was right. Holding onto anger was exhausting, and I was already so fucking tired these days. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

  Sometimes, it was a struggle just to breathe.

  “It’s been almost two years.” I was halfway to the exit, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the leap just yet. “Why bring this up now?”

  “Because you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. If someone tries to push you in one direction, you’ll do your best to go in the other.” Dry humor laced his words. “But what I did was wrong, and I am…sorry. For the most part.”

  What the fuck? “That’s the worst damn apology I’ve ever heard.”

  “I don’t aspire to be the type of person who apologizes so much that they're good at it.”

  Typical Alex logic.

  “But if I hadn’t done what I did, we would’ve never been friends, and my life…” Another, longer pause. “My life would be half of what it is today,” he finished softly.

  The burn in my chest spread, and my throat flexed. “You’re becoming sentimental, Volkov. Don’t let your business opponents know or they’ll eat you alive.”

  “Au contraire. More sentimentality in my personal life means more steam I need to let off elsewhere. It’s been very lucrative for business.” Alex oozed satisfaction.

  “I’m sure it has.” I passed my hand over my face again, trying to figure out where to go from here. This was not how I’d envisioned the day going when I woke up. “You know we can’t just go back to being best friends again and pretend like the past didn’t happen, right?”

  The line of his jaw turned rigid. “I know.”

  “But…if you want to catch a Nats game or something when we’re back in D.C., I wouldn’t be opposed,” I added gruffly.

  Alex relaxed, and a smile flickered over his mouth. “You miss the box seats, don’t you?”

  “Hell yeah. I’m open to bribery if you would like to get back into my good graces.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I finished my second drink before I asked, “How did you know Ava was the one?”

  I’d never been in love. I didn’t particularly want to be, but I wanted to know what cracked Alex’s stony heart. Before Ava, I could imagine a robot more capable of feeling than the man sitting next to me.

  “I like being with her.”

  “No shit. Be more specific.”

  He sighed. “It’s easy being with her,” he said after a long moment. “She understands me in a way no one else does, even if our worldviews are fundamentally different. When I’m not with her, I wish she were there. When I am with h
er, I want that moment to last forever. She makes me want to be a better person, and when I think about a world where she doesn’t exist…” His jaw flexed. “I want to burn every inch of it to the ground.”

  I stared at him. “Holy fuck. Who are you and what the fuck have you done to Alex Volkov?” I clapped him on the back. “Whoever you are, you should write for the murderous edition of Hallmark.”

  Alex glared at me. “Tell anyone I said that, and I will skin you alive with a rusted knife to prolong the pain.”

  “Exactly. Just like that. So murderously romantic.”

  “Your box seats are skating on thin ice, Chen.”

  “Hey, remember. I’m the one who has to forgive you. Be nice.” I motioned the bartender for another drink.

  Despite my jokes, my brain couldn’t stop replaying Alex’s words.

  When I’m not with her, I wish she were there. When I am with her, I want that moment to last forever.

  I’d never felt that way toward a woman…except for one.

  Unbidden images from the past two months ran through my head. Me and Jules beneath the tree at the picnic. Me telling her about Tanya’s death in the library. The adorable way her brow scrunched when she was concentrating and the proud smile that lit up her face when I finally proclaimed her ready for the bunny slope in Vermont.

  The way she laughed, the way she tasted, and the way I felt when I was with her, like I never wanted her to leave.

  I’d chalked all that up to a mixture of lust and blossoming friendship, but what if…

  No. Fuck no.

  Sweat misted my palms. I tossed back my drink without tasting it.

  I did not like Jules. Half our fucks were hate fucks. They were hot, but just because I liked fucking her didn’t mean I wanted anything else from her.

  So what if she wasn’t as terrible as I originally envisioned? She was still her.

  Infuriating, snarky, a pain in my fucking ass…and loyal. Passionate. So beautiful sometimes it hurt to look at her.

  What would I do in a world where Jules didn’t exist? I wouldn’t burn it down, but…

  Fuck, why was it so hot in here?

  My phone vibrated with an incoming call. I answered it, relieved for the distraction. I would take a hundred telemarketers over my wildly disturbing thoughts.

  “Hello?” I didn’t recognize the number, but it contained Eldorra’s country code. Maybe it was the palace or something.

  “Hey, it’s me,” Ava said. She sounded subdued.

  “What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be at the club right now?”

  My short-lived relief at the distraction faded when she explained her situation. God motherfucking dammit. I’d wanted more excitement earlier, but I should’ve fucking clarified, because this was not what I had in mind. “Okay. I’ll be right there…no. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Alex’s brows formed a deep V as he listened to my end of the call.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked after I hung up.

  “It’s Ava and the girls.” I stood and shrugged on my jacket, already halfway out the door. “They got arrested.”

  30

  JULES

  In my defense, I had a good reason for breaking a guy’s nose and inadvertently starting a club fight. The dickhead had grabbed Ava’s ass and started grinding on her even after she said no and tried to push him off. When my and Stella’s attempts at intervention also failed, I did what I had to do. I tapped his shoulder, waited for him to turn around, and sucker punched him in the face.

  His friends had jumped into the fray, and, well, you can guess where it went from there.

  In the US, the incident would’ve ended with us thrown out of the club, but Eldorra’s strict public disturbance laws landed all of us, Dickhead and friends included, in the lovely county jail.

  “At least Br—our other friend wasn’t with us,” I said, opting for optimism. “That would’ve been a mess.”

  Ava and Stella murmured in agreement.

  Bridget was a common Eldorran name, but I erred on the side of caution in case the officer leading us toward the exit pieced two and two together. Then again, we’d had to provide our real names when we were booked. If anyone on staff paid attention to the tabloids, they would recognize us as Bridget’s bridesmaids, no matter how good a job the makeup artist had done in disguising us.

  I adjusted my brunette wig. Between the wig, my colored contacts, and the makeup artist’s mind-blowing skills, I barely recognized myself or my friends. It’d allowed us to enjoy the club in peace until Bridget left early because she had a morning interview with Vogue Eldorra. However, she’d insisted we stay and party given it was our last night of “freedom” before the wedding insanity.

  At the time, it’d seemed like a good idea. Now, after three hours of detainment and the prospect of facing a furious Josh, it seemed like a monumental mistake.

  Anxiety speared my stomach as we stepped into the reception area.

  We’d used our one phone call on Josh, asking him to bail us out. Well, Ava had. She could’ve called Alex, but she was worried he’d freak out, so she’d phoned her brother instead while she figured out how to explain the situation to her boyfriend. Josh would also freak out, but to a lesser extent than Alex.

  As it turned out, we needn’t have gone through the trouble.

  Alex and Josh both waited in the exit area, their faces carved with tension.

  “Are you okay?” Alex crossed the room in two long strides and gripped Ava’s arms. Worry blazed in his eyes as he searched her for injuries.

  Luckily, other than my swollen knuckles, Dickhead’s broken nose, and a couple of bruised egos, we’d escaped unscathed.

  “I’m fine,” Ava reassured him. “Really.”

  Alex’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t say anything else as we exited the building and climbed into the town car waiting outside.

  Thick silence muffled the luxurious interior while Ava, Stella, and I removed our disguises and wiped off our makeup using the baby wipes I’d stashed in my clutch. The makeup artist had contoured my nose into a different shape, added an alarmingly realistic mole on my upper lip, and drawn thicker, darker eyebrows that matched my wig. Watching the mask melt away in the car’s window reflection as I scrubbed a wipe over my face was a bit surreal.

  Josh and Alex hadn’t said a word about our disguises when they saw us, and they didn’t say anything now as we took them off.

  Alarm prickled my stomach. Usually, Josh would be the first to make a smartass comment, so his silence didn’t bode well.

  Alex spoke again halfway to our hotel. “What,” he said, his voice so chilly it triggered a rash of goosebumps on my arms, “the hell happened?”

  My friends and I exchanged glances. Ava gave Josh a brief rundown earlier, but he didn’t know the details, and we couldn’t tell Alex the truth.

  “Some guy groped me, and I punched him,” I said, taking creative liberty with the truth. “It escalated from there. Who knew Eldorra had such strict laws about club fights?”

  Ava cast a startled glance in my direction. She opened her mouth, but I frowned and flicked my eyes at Alex.

  She closed her mouth, though she didn’t look happy about it. She knew as well as I did that if Alex found out some guy had groped her, he would commit murder, and we didn’t need that kind of bloodshed two days before Bridget’s wedding.

  A shadow passed over Josh’s face at my reply, but he stayed silent.

  “I see.” Alex’s expression was unreadable, but he smoothed a stray strand of hair out of Ava’s eye with more gentleness than I thought him capable of. “How does the other guy look?”

  I cracked a smile. “I broke his nose.”

  A hint of a smirk filled Alex’s mouth before it flattened again. “Good. I paid a significant sum of money to wipe those police charges off your records, so it better have been worth it.”

  He pulled Ava closer to him and kissed the top of her head while she curled up against his si
de. He whispered something in her ear, and she murmured something back that eased the tension in his shoulders.

  It was a casual, domestic scene. Nothing extraordinary. Yet it triggered a longing so fierce and unexpected I had to turn away.

  I firmly believed people didn’t need a significant other to be happy. If someone wanted to be in a relationship, great. If they didn’t, also great. The same went for children, marriage, etc. There were no universal barometers for happiness. A person’s life could be just as fulfilling without a romantic partner as it was with one.

  But there were times, like now, when I yearned to experience that kind of unconditional love. To have someone care for me through the good, the bad, and the inevitable mistakes I made.

  What would it be like to be loved so deeply by someone I wouldn’t have to worry about every little move possibly driving them away?

  “No, no, no!” My mom ripped the curling iron from my hand. “Look at this mess you made.” She gestured at the curls I’d spent the past hour perfecting. “Alastair will be here soon, and I look like I’m wearing a rat’s nest on my head. How many times do I have to teach you how to do this? What good is it having a daughter if you can’t do one simple thing right?”

  My teeth dug into my bottom lip. “But I did it exactly like you—”

  “Don’t talk back to me.” Adeline dropped the still-hot iron on the table and yanked a brush through her hair with sharp, hard strokes, undoing all my work. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You want me to be ugly.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Now I have to fix your mess.”

  My teeth dug harder into my lip until the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. She didn’t look like a mess at all. She looked beautiful, as always. My mom wasn’t as young as in the beauty pageant pictures she displayed all over the house, but her skin was still smooth and unlined. Her hair was a rich auburn, and her body was the envy of every woman in town.

  Everyone said I looked like her, especially now that my skin had cleared and I’d finally graduated to a real bra. Boys were starting to pay attention to me, including Billy Welch, the cutest boy in my eighth-grade class.