Office Hate: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Rachel Van Dyken

  It looked extremely sleek—translation: it looked complicated, and Mark didn’t seem to be the type of guy who built computers, you know?

  “Wow.” He tapped it.

  Actually tapped it like that would fix it.

  Sigh.

  “It says ninety degrees.” He hung his head. Was it wrong that I loved the little bit of sweat that was dripping down the back of his neck?

  He was hot on his best day.

  On his worst?

  I wanted to lick him.

  Something was wrong with me.

  He wiped the sweat and made a face, “How the hell did it get so hot in here?”

  “Look, there has to be some sort of…furnace room or something, right? Don’t all houses have a place where the AC’s located along with all the other doodads?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Holy shit, did you say doodads?”

  “Shut it.” I smacked his chest. “Come on, we’re hunting for the man stuff that you’ll probably tap with your pinky finger and go, ‘Eureka it’s fixed,’ only to burn down the entire apartment building!”

  “Okay, first off.” He pushed me up against the wall. Both of our sweaty bodies were slick against each other; what should have been disgusting was so erotic a little moan escaped between my parted lips. “I never say Eureka.”

  His blue eyes flashed with mischief of the sexual variety.

  I gulped. “And?”

  “And…” His hand moved from my naked hips up to my breast. “I kind of like how it looks like I fucked you into oblivion all night when really, let’s be honest, I fell asleep to snoring.”

  I flicked his nose. “I have breathing problems.”

  He smashed his mouth against mine then whispered. “It’s adorable.”

  “I’m not adorable; I’m sexy.”

  “That too.” He sighed and then pulled back. “I think we might pass out if we don’t get air, and as much as I want to take you against the wall then the floor, quite possibly the table—” He sighed. “—we need to fix this so we can at least report at noon looking like actual humans.”

  “Ugh, you’re right.” I snuck out from under his braced arm and started checking the locked doors.

  He did the same, and when I thought all hope was lost, opened one up and burst out with the word. “Eureka!”

  I started laughing so hard I couldn’t stop, then he joined in, leaving me to wonder why the hell hadn’t we been together this whole time? When it was this easy? When it was this fun? When the sex and conversation matched each other rather than weighing each other out?

  Mark actually did tap the stupid heating and cooling unit, then took a step back and swore.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “You mean other than our tropical paradise?” He smirked. “Um, that.”

  He pointed at a black leather bag and inside? Enough money to retire on that tropical island rather than get a job at Emory Enterprises.

  Mark peered into the bag.

  It was thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  I covered my mouth with my hands.

  We could get new cars.

  A house.

  We could probably freakin’ retire.

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  “Um, why are you whispering?” He nudged me with his shoulder. “Look, we have only one choice.”

  “Tell no one, spend it and buy a Maserati?” I asked in a hopeful voice.

  He patted my head. “Like I said, adorable. And now, we have to take it in at noon when we report for our next assignment, all right? It was probably put here on purpose.”

  I crossed my arms. “Well, that’s mean.”

  “Um, hello. Max?”

  “Right,” I murmured, taking another look at the bag. “But can I at least touch it?”

  “Babe, I was ignoring half of what you just said because I was already taking selfies, surprised you didn’t notice; also, there are a few gold bars.”

  I crossed my arms. “Dumb, dumb Max putting money in here. What if the interns had no moral compass?”

  Mark leaned down and took another picture. “Right?”

  “He’s lucky we’re good people!”

  “Totally.” He grabbed the bag.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Um, what we should have done minutes ago? I’m gonna make it rain, then I’m going to take naked pictures of you with gold bars strategically placed around your body. I’m not an amateur.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “I like where your head is at.”

  “I like where your boobs are at.” He shook his head. “Sorry, you’re nearly naked. You distract me more than gold bars; feel proud of that.”

  “I actually do.”

  “Maybe you can add it to your resume?”

  “Huh, boobs look good naked. Yeah, has a certain ring to it.”

  “I’d hire you.”

  “As your sexretary?”

  Mark dropped the heavy bag; it made a heavy thudding noise as it hit the floor. Then he picked me up in his arms and swung me around. “Nah, I’d rather you be my CEO so I could come into your office every day, see you in a tight black suit, stern look. You’d probably have glasses on even though you don’t need them, and you’d have your hair in a tight bun, and my only job would be to pull your hair free then swipe all the stuff off your desk while I bent you over it.”

  I let out a lame whimper. “That’s a fantasy I have.”

  “Aw, babe, I’m all about fulfilling your fantasies.” He kissed me hard against the mouth.

  I shoved him against the nearest wall, “Damn, how could I have ever hated you?”

  “Meh, sometimes we hate what we want to love.”

  “What?”

  “I just said that—”

  I kissed him before he could answer, and weirdly enough, the bag of cash was forgotten as I tackled him to the ground and realized that some things are more valuable than jobs than money; some things just click.

  And that was us.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mark

  More keys came, allowing us to actually access our clothes which was extremely distracting since we’d basically had sex on every surface in that damn bathroom.

  By the time we were in the elevator up to Max’s main offices, I was exhausted.

  But not from the heat.

  From her.

  She was wicked in the ways she came up with to use those damn gold bars. It was almost indecent.

  And damn, did I worship her for it.

  And realized I’d be sad when this chaos was over when we weren’t living in craziness together, rating a sick apartment, and taking part in Emory Games that, let’s be honest, HR should have hacked out years ago!

  It was really the only confusing thing about our entire situation. Granted, rating the apartment seemed like a normal task for marketing or even sales, but adding the whole games aspect just seemed strange, and yet it was easy to see how much the employees enjoyed our torture, which begged the question, how the hell did Max get away with it?

  Was it one of those cases of, I’m a billionaire, ergo I get a billion free passes?

  Frowning, I walked out of the elevator, bag of cash and gold in one hand and holding Olivia’s with the other.

  A year ago, I would have taken the money and run.

  Today? I would prefer to shove it in Max’s face, then shove my face in Olivia’s, tell her how I feel, how I’ve always felt despite our differences.

  I’d been jealous of how easy she made everything look, from grades to friends, jobs—everything had seemed handed to her.

  But now I knew that it wasn’t the case.

  But how do you stop hating someone from afar when the only thing you want is to love her up close?

  “Ready?” I asked as we stood in front of two giant black doors with the initials ME in silver making up the handles.

  Olivia went up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “As ready as a person
can ever be when faced with someone like Max Emory.”

  “Well, when you put it that way.” I winked.

  I reached for the M; she reached for the E as we pulled the doors open wide and walked in.

  Max was standing with his back to us in a black and white pinstripe suit, hands shoved into his slacks pockets as he looked out the massive glass windows over Manhattan.

  He said nothing, just stared out.

  Other than one camera guy, who seemed to be filming just Max as he basked in all his rich glory, nobody was there to witness our final game.

  Weird that I didn’t actually feel relieved about that.

  He could toss us out that window, with proof from the video guy, and we’d probably still come up as missing persons.

  I dropped the bag onto the floor in dramatic fashion then winced as the gold made a seriously loud thunk against the black marble floors.

  Hope I didn’t crack something that couldn’t be fixed with Flex Seal.

  “Ah,” Max said, still staring straight ahead at the window. “The sound of honesty.”

  I shifted on my feet as I waited for him to turn around, but he didn’t; he just kept staring. “Did you touch it?”

  “Yes,” we said in unison. I almost reached for her hand and squeezed, but would that be frowned upon in an office environment?

  “How?” Max asked.

  “How?” I repeated. “How what?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “How was it touched?”

  Oh shit. Could he see the guilt on our faces?

  I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and said, “You know, with our hands.” And other parts of both our bodies. Surprise, your gold probably has penis on it, but gold is gold, am I right?

  Max finally turned fully around, his eyes were weirdly knowing like nothing got by him, and he was enjoying the uncomfortable as hell situation we’d just gotten ourselves into. “I like gold too… Don’t think I’ve ever liked it that much.” He smirked. “But it’s to be expected when you’re young and in love—”

  “You were watching!” Olivia yelled.

  I reached for her hand and squeezed. She needed this job too, and yelling at your boss probably wasn’t a good way to interview.

  Max just shrugged. “We turn off the cameras at night…and well, we don’t put any in the…private areas, except…” He chuckled. “With you two, we had to stop filming altogether, wonder why that is…”

  Heat crept up my neck and flooded my face. “We, um, are avid believers in…um…sport.”

  Max barked out a laugh. “And I thought I was the only clever one in the room. Do tell about this sport under the roof of your employer’s hotel as you intern for a job…are we talking bowling? Ping pong? Damn, I love a good pong game. I’d even be okay with naked charades because, man, you gotta stay honest and vulnerable, feel me? With all the shit out in the world, sometimes it just feels good to exist in our own perfect skin.” He seemed to blackout for a moment, and then he shook his head. “But I digress. Please, entertain me.”

  He sat at his desk and leaned back.

  “So…” Olivia started then elbowed me. “We just…like…physical…”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shot my thoughts at her. Don’t say it, don’t say it.

  “Exertion,” she finished with a proud smile.

  Oh, dear God.

  I smacked my hand against my face and winced.

  “What?” she hissed. “Did you have something better?”

  “Olympic bed sport!” I blurted. “Sans clothes so nobody can cheat!”

  “No need to shout.” Max waved us both off. “You both passed the next challenge perfectly. It was about honesty, in case you were curious why we sweat you both out and put the money in…what’s that area? The heating? Cooling? Is there a fridge there?”

  “But really,” Olivia said under her breath. “He’s a billionaire?”

  “Heard that.” Max snapped his fingers. “So, today’s going to be your lucky day.”

  “Mine?” we both said in unison.

  “Sure.” He grinned. “You see, typically we have a finale, but because of the, um, what did you call it? Olympic bed sport, we can’t film anything without putting an NC 17 rating on it, and most of our employees would suffer trauma from the amount of times people see Mark’s white ass.”

  “Hey!” I pointed my finger at him. “I do not have a white ass.”

  “You kind of do.” Olivia cupped her hand over her mouth, whispering.

  I turned and glared. “And you have a funny middle toe!”

  She gasped. “You swore!”

  Max sighed, then clapped his hands. “Children, let’s get back to the topic at hand. Are you so dense that you wonder why I said we stopped filming?”

  “Filming,” I repeated. “Filming.”

  “That’s what I said.” Max shook his head slowly. “I fear for our next generation, I truly do, repeating words and tocking on the tik.”

  “Um sir, it’s actually TikTok—”

  “I KNOW WHAT TOCKING IS! It’s better than SNAPPED!”

  “Chat?” Olivia tried. “Snapchat?”

  Max pressed his hands to his temples like we were annoying him and not the other way around. “Think of your pets. If you go to prison, you can’t visit the pets. Becca will never have sex with you again unless it’s a conjugal visit. Hey, I’ve had a few fantasies about myself in orange—”

  “Sir.” Dustin suddenly appeared out of thin air. Okay, not really; he came in the door, but it was creepy. He was creepy.

  “NOT NOW!” Max roared. “Unless you have my steak, do you have my steak?”

  “They were out,” Dustin said quickly. “But they had lobs—”

  “Say lobster, and you’re fired! You know shellfish makes me puffy!” Max tugged at his tie. “Do you want me to be puffy for the cameras! Do you? Do you!” He thundered.

  Dustin looked unsure if he preferred one or the other and then just said. “I don’t think you look puffy.”

  Even I knew that was the wrong answer! Do better, Dustin!

  Max’s eyes bulged. “So I look puffy? Is that it?”

  “No, no I was giving you a compliment!”

  “HAH! A compliment would be, ‘wow, Max that suit fits you well!’ Not, ‘I do not think you look puffy’! Because the person receiving the compliment wants to be told they look AWESOME! So let me rephrase this. DO I LOOK AWESOME?”

  “Sir, YES, SIR!”

  “That’s all I ask, Dustin. Really not a big ask. Now go wash your face. You’re perspiring, and it’s making me sad.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Dustin ran off, leaving me more confused than ever as Max faced us again.

  He sighed, placing his hands onto his desk as he leaned over. “I know you think I’m eccentric, but I get things done. And you two—” He pointed between us. “—need jobs, and the only way for me to accurately find out your true potential is to put you through what I like to call intern hell.” His grin was pure evil. “Not only has every, er, non-censored moment been shared with every CEO looking to hire, but around my entire company as a reminder of how they were when they were young, fresh-faced, and I would say innocent but…” He shot a look at the gold bars.

  I turned away guiltily.

  “So now that the internship is over before it truly ever began, and I know what you both want, allow me to present you with this.” He pulled out two black portfolios and handed one to each of us.

  My throat went dry as I realized it read, “Welcome Packet, Emory Enterprises.”

  Thank God Olivia’s said the same thing!

  I quickly opened it and nearly passed out. A ten thousand dollar signing bonus on top of a seventy thousand dollar salary, access to a company car, and two weeks paid vacation plus all major holidays off!

  Olivia let out a scream, then sprinted toward Max and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Max grinned and gently shoved her away as she barreled toward me and p
ulled me in for a tighter hug. I wanted to kiss her so badly, it hurt.

  “So, now that we’ve settled that.” Max grinned. “I’ll have Dustin come back in and show you the rounds, Olivia, and you, Mark, have a plane to catch.”

  “What?” we said in unison.

  “What did I miss?” I added.

  “Nothing but your dreams!” Max announced. “You said you wanted to be in LA, so I placed you at one of my premiere boutique hotels in Santa Monica. Miss Olivia requested to stay here. Your internships are finished. Welcome to Emory Enterprises. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I also have a plane to catch. Mark…” He held out his hand.

  I couldn’t take it.

  I couldn’t actually even stare at it.

  “But—” I gulped. “We aren’t finished, you said three months, and we’ve only done one apartment. Weren’t there several penthouse apartments? I mean, we need to finish the job, sir.”

  He smiled. “As I said, you did well. The employees loved you both, I’m sure you had a fun summer fling, but you’re moving on, bigger and better things, right Mark?”

  “But this wasn’t—” I started to talk and then realized I was the only person actually arguing.

  Olivia was silent.

  Staring straight ahead, not at me, not at the guy she hated maybe sometimes liked, but at thin air as if it had more importance than me.

  “Yes, Mark?” Max asked.

  I wanted to say that I couldn’t say goodbye.

  But again, Olivia said nothing.

  I hung my head, then turned to her, pulled her in for a kiss to the forehead, and whispered, “Tell me to stay.”

  She was quiet and then, “You know I can’t do that.”

  “I’m literally begging you to without using the words.” I grabbed her shoulders. “What we have is good, Olivia; you know it is. I’ll find another job, just ask me to—”

  She pressed her mouth against mine in a kiss that felt so much like goodbye my stomach hurt. “We’ll always have the losers’ room.”

  “And Little-G.” My voice cracked.

  Why the hell did this feel like a breakup?

  Why were my eyes sweating?

  “Let’s not forget the bathroom.”

  “Or the dryer,” I added, unable to even look at her.

  “Jet leaves in a few,” Max said again. “Are you coming or not?”