“And what,” Rick, my producer, asked, “about the rumors that back at the apartment there was some…bonding going on?”
“Little G exaggerates. He came home with a very big smile, and that means he had a good time with his sitters. As you know we shut off the cameras in the main rooms at night. Tonight they’ll be in one of the unlocked bedrooms; time will tell if they share the bed together or separate. The point is, we aren’t just in the business of providing job opportunities; we also matchmake perfect personalities, so maybe they don’t take the job at the end of the day, but can you turn down your one true love?”
Rick laughed. “You’re an evil genius.”
“Thank you.” I held up Little G. “That’s why I’m rich.”
“Some call you crazy.”
“Rick.” I sighed. “Only the crazy ones make it. I’ll be back tomorrow to discuss the next game. Hopefully, our contestants continue to entertain us, and I so look forward to the first streaming episode on Emory Entertainment this week.”
“Another exciting surprise, your own streaming channel. How do you do it?”
“I’m an evil genius.” I grinned. “Oh, and before I forget.” I cleared my throat. “Max for president.”
Rick actually clapped. Idiot.
We wrapped up filming, and I made my way into my camera room entertained as hell.
Olivia was in the kitchen staring at the box I’d just delivered.
And Mark still looked petrified of what could be inside.
“Let the games…continue,” I whispered as I sat in my chair and watched.
Chapter Nine
Mark
“I don’t trust boxes anymore.” I shoved the box toward Olivia. “You open it.”
She shuddered. “You’re the guy!”
“Women and men are equal; not only do they deserve equal pay, but sometimes I think women deserve to be paid more for putting up with an entire male population that thinks it’s acceptable to send a pic of their dick to random strangers.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I crossed my arms. “As much as you ‘hate’ me—” I made air quotes because, let’s be honest, she was rubbing herself all up and down my body last night, so maybe the hate isn’t as strong anymore. My dick twitched in agreement. “—I’m not a chauvinist.”
She kept staring.
I waved a hand in front of her face. “Why aren’t you blinking?”
“What?” She shook her head. “Sorry was thinking…things.” She gulped, and I could have sworn checked out the front of my jeans before blushing and grabbing a knife. “Fine, I’ll open it but only because of the words…that came out of your mouth, that you said.”
“Are you okay?” I laughed.
“Sure. Of course!” Why was she nodding so aggressively?
“Um, should you be holding a sharp object?” I asked, a bit concerned as she jabbed it into the box, cutting open the tape.
She pointed it at me. “Did you want to open the box then?”
“All yours.” I held up my hands in surrender.
She snorted and then slowly pulled open one brown flap of the package and peered inside.
“What do you see?” I whispered.
“Snakes,” she said with absolutely no emotion. “Lots of snakes.”
“Shit! For real?” I yelled, stumbling over my feet as I reeled backward.
She set down the knife and burst out laughing. “No, dumbass, it’s some sort of furniture piece from Ikea, it looks like…” She pulled out instructions and grimaced. “It looks like we get to put together a bed frame.”
I nearly pounded my chest and said I man, I use tools, but I figured she’d just punch me in the face, so I simply nodded and snatched the instructions away from her. “Looks easy enough.”
The doorbell rang again.
I paused. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck. “Think they’re classically conditioning us to flinch every time someone knocks or rings?” I wondered aloud.
She laughed. “Right, like it’s a social experiment we don’t even know we’re in.”
I shook my head. “Don’t give Max ideas.”
I could have sworn I heard evil laughter, but it was just my own paranoia about the insane man who wore flamingo ties and who I’d one day bring coffee to.
Olivia jerked the door open, a manila envelope that had been propped against it fell inward. With a sigh, she picked it up and reached inside, pulling out a small gold key. A single sheet of yellow paper fluttered to the ground.
I picked it up and read out loud. “Master bedroom.”
“Yay, a bed!” Olivia did a fist pump then seemed to remember she wasn’t the only one in the room. With a battle cry, she sprinted down the hall toward the last room on the right and tried to shove the key in. When it didn’t work, she panicked, dropped the key twice then moved to the next doorway.
This time the key went in, and she twisted the knob. She shoved the door open and gasped. “It’s so pretty!”
I followed after her. “Oh good, a mattress. Thought we were going to have to build one of those too.”
“Hilarious.” She shoved me.
I shoved her back for absolutely no reason other than I liked annoying her, and I still tasted her on my tongue.
The room was huge and had another gas fireplace that had these cool looking blue rocks inside it. The walls were all white except for the wall with the fireplace. It was covered in brick and painted black.
Two plush baby blue chairs were sitting in front of the fireplace with a table in the middle. A bottle of wine and two stemless glasses sat on top, and toward the back of the room, which I assumed connected to a bathroom, was the mattress leaning against the wall framed by two side tables that I assumed they wanted to be on either side of the bed.
“Should we get started?” I asked.
She put her hands on her hips. “I guess I can’t just shut you out of the room, can I?”
“You could,” I said. “But then I’d be forced to do this.” I opened my mouth and made a horrific screeching noise.
Olivia tackled me to the carpet in two seconds, her hands cupping my mouth, her legs straddling me.
Huh, usually when I made that noise I didn’t get rewarded so quickly. I clasped my hands behind my head and grinned up at her.
She jerked her hands away. “That was so immature.”
“Yup!” I agreed. “But desperate times.”
“Ah…” She wiggled a bit. “That desperate to sleep in the same room with me, Mark?”
“The way you say my name, with such passion, it really does do things to me…hard things, penetrating things—”
Her hands settled back over my mouth. Okay, I deserved that one.
“You gonna be good?” she asked, looking down her nose at me, eyebrows raised expectantly.
So good she’s gonna be screaming my name— Damn it! Pull yourself together, Mark!
Slowly she withdrew her hands.
I frowned. How was I supposed to think with my actual brain when she was straddling me like this?
“I’ll be good.” I smiled. “Now, do you want the big strong man to go get the big box and carry it in here?”
She punched me in the shoulder. “Sorry, reflex.”
“Yeah, and what? Tackling me was instinct?”
“Maybe.” She chewed her plump lower lip as her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity.
The doorbell rang again.
I groaned and banged my head back against the floor. “Why…”
“I’ll get it.” She jumped off me and left the room.
I stayed there for a few brief seconds waiting for my body to cool down, and then I desperately tried to remind myself to focus on the end game.
A job.
A good job.
A good-paying job.
Job being singular, not plural.
What if she was using seduction as a way to gain an edge? What if I was falling for
it hook, line, and sinker?
And what if it was all a game?
I jolted up, eyes narrowed. “She wouldn’t.”
And then I thought about it, like really thought about it, and realized she most definitely would.
“Damn it.” I got to my feet and made myself a promise not to fall for her pretty smile, lean legs, and well, there I go again.
I finally made it to the end of the hall when Olivia gave me a shy wave and pointed to the boxes on the table. “Dinner’s here.”
“Good, I’m starving.” I reached for the box.
That was my first mistake.
Opening it was the next.
And the third mistake, well that goes back to when I was six and accidentally had a run-in with a rattlesnake and peed my pants.
“S-snake.” I pointed to the snake’s head in the box along with all the white meat and hit the ground.
Hard.
Chapter Ten
Olivia
“Mark!” I kicked his legs. Okay, should I have been more sensitive?
Yes.
Did I care?
Not really.
I mean, he was just lying there like the snake bit his ass, and he had no choice but to fall over and die.
And frankly, I thought he was kidding.
Until he didn’t move.
And then I was worried he might have stopped breathing.
Not sure what part of our job included eating snake meat, but the instructions said it was healthy for us to try new things—whatever that meant. So I was like, cool cool, we’ll eat some snake meat, not die (fingers crossed), then attempt to get a good night’s sleep after Mark builds the bed.
But Mark was clearly MIA lying in a heap on the floor, not building the bed or being a team player.
“Marrrrk.” I drew it out then gently kicked him again.
“Son of a bitch!” he roared, coming to life like I’d given him a hit of adrenaline directly down the middle of his chest Pulp Fiction style. “I’m aliiiiiive.”
I staggered back. “Are you drunk?”
“Is this hell?” He looked over at the box of snakes and scrambled away like Smeagol on Lord of the Rings; I half expected him to start muttering my precious. “Why is this real?”
“Life?” I guessed.
“No, the fucking snake and the meat— oh shit, is the room spinning?”
“Uh, no. Maybe…” I grabbed his arm before he passed out again. “…you should just sit for a bit?”
“But protein.” He shuddered. “And the bed. I’m a guy. I have to build… oh hell!” He started gagging as his gaze landed on the box with our dinner. “If you don’t move the snake box, I’m gonna hurl all over your shoes, and I actually like them, so maybe we take care of that first…” He risked a closer look, and his face went pasty pale. “Oh fuck, is that another head?”
Because I also liked my shoes, I kicked the box away immediately. “Why don’t we order pizza?”
More gagging.
“Do you like need…a minute?” I patted him on the back.
“Childhood trauma.” He looked away. “Yeah, pizza. Now snake, the snake has to go, far, far away, can we burn the snake? Oh shit, it’s staring right at me; it senses my fear!”
“It’s dead.”
“Its soul lives!” He scrambled to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why is this internship the worst thing ever?”
“Well…” I dumped the snake box in the trash. “If you’re asking, it’s all this elaborate test. I mean otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense, you know?”
“Nothing, and I do mean nothing, about Max makes sense.” Mark went to the sink and gargled some water, then spit it out like he’d actually eaten said snake and nearly gone into anaphylactic shock from the experience. “You ordered pizza, right?”
“DoorDash.” I held up my phone. “Figured pepperoni was better than snake. Hey, you gonna be able to make that bed for us?”
He glared, his skin still pale. “I’m a guy, I can totally—” Tons of stumbling and the windmilling of arms.
“Did you, um, just trip on your shoelaces?”
“No. Yes. I’m a man!” he shouted. “Where the hell are the tools?”
I studied him critically. I wanted to legit win the position, not kill my opponent. “Should you be using a hammer, though?”
“AHGHHHHHHHH!” he screamed.
“Fine, fine!” I held up my hands. “Closet, go to the closet, geez.”
He stomped off.
And I watched as he grabbed a toolset from the utlility closet and went into the bedroom. Seconds later, I heard pounding. Then cursing.
Then, the most terrifying of all.
Silence.
Our pizza arrived twenty minutes later, and because I felt guilty for not helping, I finally grabbed him a slice and made my way into the bedroom, expecting to find Mark somehow built into the headboard staring off into space like, where did it go wrong? Was it during the snake episode? The cursing? The tools? And if I could do it over, would I have used that hammer or just asked for help?
Huh.
“H-hey there, big guy,” I said, walking into the dark room.
Miraculously, the bed frame was done, the mattress was on said frame along with the sheets, and Mark had tuckered himself out trying to be all manly, so there he was, lying on the righthand side of the bed.
Smiling, I walked over to him and gently laid the slice of pizza on his side.
Without even speaking, he sniffed, like a true predator, picked up the slice, took three bites, barely swallowed, then asked, “Are we done?”
“Um, do you not remember the last two hours?”
“Good pizza.” His answer. “C’mere…”
I had no choice, and honestly, he looked so cute I would have chosen the same. I crawled into bed.
He pulled me against his side. “Good teamwork.”
“Yup. Totally.” I smiled against his warm chest.
“I hate snakes.”
“I’m aware.”
“But I like you…maybe I shouldn’t say that, but I like you, Olive.”
I would take it to my grave as I smiled against his chest again and whispered. “I like you too.”
Chapter Eleven
Mark
“I’m scared of dragons, you know…” Olivia said in a sleepy voice. “No need to feel weird about the snakes.”
Instantly I was wide awake. Snakes? Aw shit.
All of last night came rushing back, swear I had an actual episode after seeing the snake head and skin. I mean, what the ever-loving hell?
I rubbed my eyes and checked my phone, set it down, then realized that Olivia was curled up against me.
Wait, how did this happen?
And why was I questioning her warmth and awesomeness?
I pulled her closer against me. “Does this mean you hate Pete’s Dragon? Because honestly,” I rasped, my breathing lazy, “I really like that bro.”
“Stop saying bro.” Her voice floated over me.
Swear on my life, she was angelic at three in the morning. HAH, my brain reminded me, but she’s the fucking devil during the day, so yeah, good trade, good trade.
“And yeah, I loved the movie they just did; I cried…why?”
“Aw…” I patted her on the head. “You actually have a soul!”
“Aw…” She twisted my nipple in her right hand. “You have feelings.”
“Damn it!” I batted her away. “Honest moment, if we had one parachute, would you take it?”
Silence.
“Good times,” I muttered after an uncomfortably long three minutes where she was one hundred percent not sleeping. “Thanks, by the way, for last night.”
She shrugged, still not pulling away. “What do you think Max has in store for the Emory Games tomorrow, or… I guess today?”
“Other than hell, you mean?”
“Maybe he’ll go easy on us?”
I burst out laughing. “And maybe you w
on’t kill me in my sleep to gain an advantage. Sure, yeah, okay.”
She wiggled against me then leaned up, her lips caressing my ear. “Could have done it way earlier, Mark, but I have this thing called…” Her tongue slid around the outside of my ear. “This thing called self-control.”
“So,” I choked out. “I’m alive because of you?”
“Yup.”
“Gee, how do I express my thanks to the psychopath in my arms?”
“I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Mmmmmm,” I tugged her against me. “I can, I fucking can.”
I didn’t let her protest.
I kissed her.
I kissed her hard.
It wasn’t a tame kiss, one where you ask if it’s okay first. Nah, this kiss was all domination. This kiss was an end-of-the-world kiss, the one you give with full knowledge you may never get to kiss again, so you just fucking go for it.
“Mine.” I bit her bottom lip. “Dare you to say no.”
“No.” She bucked against me.
“Challenge accepted.” I grinned against her already growing smile as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Damn, you feel like you belong to me, even when you hate me.”
“Meh.” She shrugged. “Office politics.”
“Right?” I laughed. “So crazy.”
“Insane,” she agreed.
“Also, I’m gonna rate the bed a ten, the room a ten, the sheets a solid nine, so it seems fair…great bedroom, but…am I also supposed to rate you?”
She threw her legs around my body and squeezed. “What do you think?”
I hesitated and then, “Eleven.”
She was silent for a breath. Then her mouth was on mine again before she pulled back and whispered, “Still hate you.”
I laughed. “Congratulations, you’ve just fallen to an eight.”
“Well, you’re a seven.”
“Seven, seven, seven.” I bucked my hips against hers. “If you don’t get that reference, you’re dead to me.”
Office Hate: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 6