Something Like Hate: An Enemies-to-Lovers Billionaire Romance

by Harloe Rae

  As I watch her approach, she’s busy stabbing me with a lethal glare. Animosity wafts from her in putrid waves. I almost plug my nose against the offensive stench. A lesser man might cower under her brazen intensity. All she earns from me is an icy mask—frozen from years of experience.

  The open hostility melts from Vannah’s features, replaced with what I’m beginning to assume is her signature smile. “Good morning, Mr. Winters.”

  My expression remains stony. “Pleasantries are wasted effort.”

  She snorts and drops into a seat without invitation. “I wasn’t planning to give you more than the bare minimum.”

  “Glad that’s settled.” I give her a slow once-over. Having her on my turf grants me control of all elements besides her unpredictable mouth. This will be entertaining.

  And some people think I don’t know how to have fun.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place.” Vannah makes a show of taking a long look around at the bare floors and empty rooms visible through the window.

  “If only your opinion meant something.”

  Her phony grin never falters. “It’s cute that your immediate reaction is to insult me. I’m thinking that’s because you feel guilty for being an asshole, but will never voice it. Might as well sling more dirt onto the pile, huh?”

  That snarky wit makes me pause. I treated her poorly yesterday, whether she provoked me or not is irrelevant. Demeaning women with lewd stereotypes is the lowest level of dishonor. It’s despicable behavior that I’m ashamed of. I have every intention of owning my faults and apologizing. Just as regrets form on my tongue, she crosses her toned legs and leans forward. The shift in position provides me with a direct view of her ample cleavage. There’s no mistaking the intentional move.

  “What’re you doing?” Jordan already tested my nonexistent patience. Vannah isn’t getting any slack from me for pulling this shit. Admitting I’m wrong, especially to others, is an extremely rare occurrence. One to be treasured and not wasted.

  She pops her mouth open, feigning shock worse than a soap opera actress. “Is this too scandalous for you?”

  “Careful, Ms. Simons. You’re dangerously close to proving me right.” This wouldn’t be the first occasion where a stealthy female attempted to trap me in a crime worthy of a lawsuit.

  Her lips curve into a demure grin. “But this is what you expect of me, yes? I’m only capable of success by spreading my legs.”

  A snarl curdles at the back of my throat. Hearing my crude assessment regurgitated by this maneater erases any inkling of remorse. I’d planned to make amends, to some degree, but being served a taste of my own medicine isn’t a lesson I appreciate. The bland mask I’ve trademarked slips to reveal a sneer. “Are you offering?”

  She arches a slim brow. “That depends.”

  I curl my hand into a fist, squeezing to alleviate the brewing pressure. “Playing coy doesn’t suit you.”

  She rolls her eyes and tucks the draping fabric at her neckline, gaining some semblance of modesty. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

  “And this little lamb act won’t grant you any favors. I’m all lion, baby.”

  Vannah straightens with a huff. “Your flattery could use some vast improvements.”

  “It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”

  She holds up a palm. “Don’t worry, Mufasa. I’m not under the impression that you’ll ever pay me praise on purpose.”

  “It pleases me to hear that you’re finally coming to terms with our roles in this deal.” Prior to concluding our initial meeting, we managed to reach an agreement. Or so I thought.

  Vannah narrows her emerald eyes, fierce and ferocious. “Let’s not pretend I’m willing to surrender. Our stakes are nowhere near equal. Also, it’s hilarious how you think I can be tamed.”

  “Just give it time, sugar. I’ll prove a lot more than that.”

  “Stop calling me that. I hate it.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me.” I can practically feel the gleam reflecting from my gaze.

  “Dammit,” she spits. “You can drop the asshole act.”

  I snort. “That would require me to be pleasant during certain circumstances, which I can confirm isn’t the case. I’m not sure what gave you the impression that today would be any different. What do I have to gain from being polite?”

  She taps her glossy lips. “Common courtesy?”

  Another grunt escapes me. “Overrated. I’m somewhat of an acquired taste.”

  “No shit? I wouldn’t have guessed that the flavor of rich prick doesn’t appease everyone’s palate.”

  That almost gets a chuckle from me. Instead, I smooth a thumb down my red tie. The color might not be due to random selection, after all. “So crass, Ms. Simons.”

  “Thought I was sweet?”

  “Delectable indeed, sugar.” I lick my lips for emphasis.

  She squints, taking inventory of the blank expression on my face. Not sure what she’s expecting to find. “Maybe you’re not a total lost cause. I could probably tolerate you after three glasses of wine, especially if earplugs are provided.”

  Vannah’s beauty is a distraction, one that momentarily yanks me from this worthless battle. She’s a worthy opponent. The fact that she’s still sitting in front of me, wearing a confident shield that matches her daring outfit, attests to that. Her natural bravado sings a melody I’m not familiar with. She spits flames from her eyes regardless of my inability to burn. Relentless and impulsive is a dangerous combination, especially in this woman determined to prove a point. If I let her get too close, I’m likely to demand more than she’s required to provide.

  We haven’t spent a second on actual business, and that fact leaves me edgy. There are more pleasurable forms of releasing this tension. Tracing her supple figure solidifies more than my dick. Once the idea forms, I can envision us engaging in a different type of tangle. A fight for control and power as we race toward a similar goal. This would be a more pleasurable way to expend our aggression. Would she be willing?

  Based on the flare of her nostrils, the answer is glaring back at me through thin slits. How much more pissed could she get if I make the argument in favor of getting naked? The likelihood that she will accept such a proposition is below zero. She’s likely to claw my eyes out for the suggestion alone. And why shouldn’t she? The treatment she’s received from me leaves plenty to be desired. There isn’t much I admit to lacking, but redeeming qualities are on the short list. Yet I fantasize about bending her over my desk all the same.

  I tilt my head, studying her relaxed pose as she shifts in the leather chair. She appears comfortable in this environment, with me. Perhaps she’d be interested in blowing off some of this steam we’re creating.

  With a slice through the air, I cut off her pointless ramblings. “What are your thoughts on casual sex?”

  Vannah’s expression remains neutral, as if I asked about the weather. “I’m a pretty big fan.”

  I steeple my fingers. “How about us sleeping together?”

  All semblance of her composure vanishes when she sputters. “Excuse me?”

  “Carnal fucking,” I clarify.

  A noticeable flush races along her slender throat. “Are you screwing with me?”

  Lust becomes an uncaged force, flooding my blood with molten heat. “Not yet. I’m willing to throw anal on the table.”

  She blinks at me, remaining silent for several beats. Then her blank mask cracks with a wide smile. Laughter that borders on manic tumbles from her curving lips. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

  “Might be your kink.”

  “If you think anything of yours is going in my butt, you’re more delusion than a rabid hound.”

  I allow my mouth to slant into a smirk, showing off my teeth. “Woof.”

  Her mouth opens and shuts on a loop as she seems to struggle with how to respond. “On what planet does someone just blurt out a suggestion like that?”

  The bulge in my pa
nts swells with need as Vannah stabs me with more fire. “I’d actually been considering it for several minutes while you were blabbering on about me being a jerk.”

  She lets her jaw hang loose. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Oh, don’t pretend like you haven’t imagined it.” I’m pushing her on purpose. Not far enough to cause permanent damage or retaliation. There’s no denying I’m a ruthless asshole, but even I have morals.

  Her pert nose wrinkles in clear distaste. Upon closer inspection, a smattering of freckles dot her skin there. “I don’t make a habit of sleeping with clients, not to mention men who are rude and insufferable.”

  I take a slow perusal of her fuck-me outfit. “Do you typically wear that dress to the office?”

  “You’re skating that harassment line pretty close, buddy.”

  “As if your gaze hasn’t strayed below my belt.” Curse my cock for perking up higher at the mention.

  Vannah’s eyes snap up to my face. Guilt in the shade of fiery red stains her cheeks. My smirk is waiting for her. “That doesn’t mean anything. I could’ve been looking at your pleats.”

  I remain in my reclining position. Might as well give her ample opportunity to peruse my offer. “And you just happen to be focusing on a specific area where those gather at a certain part of my anatomy?”

  “You can’t prove anything,” she snaps.

  “I don’t feel the need to. We can reach a mutual understanding.”

  Vannah folds her hands, clasping tight enough to turn her knuckles white. “Such as?”

  “The chemistry isn’t easy to ignore,” I begin. “Our attraction is obvious, fatal or not.”

  “That doesn’t mean we act on it. You’re deranged for assuming otherwise.” It’s not my very creative imagination that darkens the blush on her face.

  I stroke the soft texture of my lapel, picturing something more supple in my grasp. “Would that stop you from sleeping with me?”

  “Even if it didn’t, you’re a client.” Her repetition of that weak defense doesn’t deter me.

  “Should I transfer my account to another firm?”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” The resentment returns to her gaze with a resounding boom.

  I resurrect my glower to combat her ire. “I’m beginning to realize you don’t have an adequate comprehension of how little your involvement matters.”

  “Guess what, asshole? I don’t care how little value you give me.”

  “You do,” I correct. “If you didn’t, this temper tantrum charade wouldn’t be happening.”

  Her chest rises and falls with an agitated exhale. “So, my purpose is interchangeable?”

  “More like unnecessary.” My statement is flat, much like her argument.

  “Until you want to fuck me.” Vannah is near seething status, if her twitching eyelid counts as a useful measurement.

  “Well, yes. I suppose your services would be required for that.”

  The sound of her teeth clacking together ricochets between us. “You’re revolting.”

  “Not enough to scare you off, though.” I sit forward, the smooth leather creaking at my adjustment. “So, tell me, Ms. Simons. Why are you still here?”

  A dull ache spreads from where I’m clenching my jaw. If I don’t ease up on the intensity, a migraine will be pounding into my skull soon. A throbbing temple is the least of my worries at the moment. It’s a challenge to concern myself with anything other than the man glaring at me.

  I toss some hair behind my ear, dig deep for reinforcements, and mentally prepare for another gruesome round against him. Scrutinizing him is part of the rallying process. Landon is going for shock value, upping the stakes to make me uncomfortable. Well, I can handle his salacious advances. I push the envelope on a regular basis. For the sake of scorned women, I’m willing to do a lot more than that. This guy has met his match.

  “You’re trying to scare me off. I’m not a quitter, Mr. Winters.”

  His feral gaze doesn’t waver. “Call me Landon.”

  I bat my lashes in an exaggerated fashion. Acting like a flirty ditz seems to grate on his nerves. “No, thank you.”

  He scrubs a palm over his stern mouth. “Does verbal sparring get you excited, Savannah?”

  His use of my full name doesn’t go unnoticed, but correcting him will only reload his weapons against me. “I guess that depends on my partner.”

  “And I suppose that’s why we fight so well.”

  “I wouldn’t say we do anything well together. Nope,” I disagree with finality.

  “Pity.” The way he sneers the word reveals his true feelings. “I was beginning to believe you’d be worth the time it took me to unzip my fly.”

  I allow a purposely airy giggle to stumble off my tongue. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Landon tsks. “That apology is faker than your laugh.”

  “It’s genuine, compared to your indecent proposal.”

  “Excuse me for voicing the obvious when you weren’t ready to hear it. I figured we could both benefit from a satisfying release.” His reasoning is served with an entitled lift of his chin.

  “How kind of you to consider my needs.” I roll my eyes. There’s no chance I’m falling for his phony sincerity.

  “It’d be better if you actually agreed.”

  “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

  His eyes rake across my chest, carving a blistering path to my crossed legs. “It’s selfish not to share.”

  I squint at him. “You’re the last person who should admonish me about greed.”

  “Coming from someone lacking access to my charitable donations, that’s quite an ugly conclusion to draw.” He tugs at the sleeves of his jacket. “I’m a giver where it truly counts.”

  I had a sinking suspicion that last comment wasn’t referencing nonprofits. “You’re just peeved that I’m not falling at your feet.”

  Landon shrugs, casting his gaze outside. “I will admit that your reaction is uncommon, but it’s a refreshing change of pace all the same.”

  I park my chin on a closed fist. “Oh, that’s intriguing. Is someone in the mood for a chase?”

  He grunts and drags his eyes back to me. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Oh, whoops. Do you prefer women to be meek and mild?”

  “Don’t forget easy and temporary.”

  I don’t have to fake my gag reflex. “You’re a pig.”

  “And you’re annoying,” he retorts.

  “Wow, good one.”

  “I aim to please.” He’d said the same thing during our first conversation at Ashlee’s wedding. The joke I made fell flat, much like our entire exchange.

  I muster enough enthusiasm to quirk an eyebrow. “I’m well aware.”

  Landon schools his features, treating me to another heaping dose of indifference. Even the toasty brown hue in his gaze appears flat. With deft fingers, he loosens the tie knotted at his throat. The concept of fastening one with such expert precision is lost on me. I find my focus zeroing in on his motions, mesmerized by the seemingly simple act. He’s succeeding in unraveling more than just that silk strip.

  The man could write a chart-topping guidebook on how to properly fill out a suit. From the tailored cut to the subtle pinstripes, that sleek fabric makes him look untouchable. As if wealth and prosperity didn’t already bestow a freaking crown on his head. He might as well be a damn royal for all the snubs and condescending comments slung at will. I bet it wouldn’t take much for him to receive an advanced degree in rash judgments. If only his exterior wasn’t so alluring.

  It takes Wonder Woman-level effort to stop fantasizing about the slabs of muscle beneath his dress shirt. His broad shoulders narrow into a trim torso, which is sculpted enough to suggest a chiseled physique. I’m sure he smells delicious too. Listening to him berate me is almost enjoyable. His rich voice alone has my body preparing to betray me. That tantalizing rasp gives me goosebumps, even when he’s flinging insults. I have to curl my toes ag
ainst the hypnotic onslaught. It’s like being wrapped in crushed velvet and dunked in a warm bubble bath.

  I scold myself—again—for being susceptible to his polished appearance. That’s the thing about predators. The extra dangerous ones are concealed in the most beautiful packages to tempt their prey. Well, I’m not falling for it.

  Little does this asshole know, I rely—quite heavily—on our deal going smoothly. I’m not giving him the ammunition of admitting that, though. That’d probably be similar to a stocking stuffed with goodies on Christmas morning to a guy like him. It’s almost terrifying to consider the possibilities of what he’d do with such power. I shudder at the thought. No, I don’t need him to have more control of this situation.

  In an effort to appear calm and collected, I twirl a stray curl of hair around my finger. “Listen, Lannie—”

  “Landon.” His deep voice booms across the mere feet separating us.

  “Whatever.” I wave off his interruption. “If we’re going to be stuck together, at least we can make it bearable.”

  His upper lip twitches. “I strongly disagree.”

  Yet he wants to have sex with me? Typical male ego.

  I tip my chin, cursing a blue streak vile enough to make me cringe. Almost. “Why can nothing be easy with you?”

  “There’s no enjoyment in being easy, sugar. Figured you knew that.”

  “You’re honestly enjoying this?”

  “Aren’t you?” Landon has the power to piss me off faster than my father and brother combined. He must know it—or have a decent guess, if his relentless firing squad is any indication.

  “Not even a smidge.” But there’s no truth to be found in my statement.

  Even if I weren’t set on exacting revenge, Landon Winters is providing a decent boost in the excitement department. I’m not usually bitter or conniving. That bad aura can leave a stain, but provoking someone has never been so much fun. I immediately recognize those words as a weakness I can’t afford.