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

by Harloe Rae

  A grin tickles my mouth. “Once he kneels, I’ll be good as new.”

  “You might lose yourself in the process.”

  “Not possible.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, but I can hear the gears grinding in her brain. “What about your job? Landon could turn on you, and Vince might believe him.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “He won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  The bite of gin burns my tongue as I sip at my negroni. “The guy is a certifiable asshole, but he has limits and morals buried beneath the arrogance-coated armor. Landon demands the best through powerful methods, and tattling on me would be a chicken-shit move.”

  “You’re putting too much weight on that assumption.”

  “And you’re being too lenient on my nemesis,” I retort.

  “I’ve never met the guy. Maybe he just has a specific issue with you.”

  “Ouch,” I rub my chest. “That’s harsh.”

  “It was, sorry.” Clea slumps her shoulders. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, but don’t you think this is getting out of hand?”

  I’m nodding along with her. “Absolutely. Is that going to stop me? Nope.”

  “I wish you’d be more receptive to feedback.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m listening to you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “You could be more supportive.” Rather than call me out with every other comment.

  “I’m trying, trust me. It’s not easy when I don’t agree with what you’re doing,” she mutters.

  “Don’t you want the good guys to come out ahead?”

  “That goes without saying.”

  I squint at her. “Then why is your smile upside down?”

  Her lips droop lower. “Probably because I’m frowning.”

  Tough crowd.

  I rest my palm over her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  Clea fakes a lopsided grin for my benefit. “Other than the obvious?”

  I roll my eyes. “Duh.”

  Her gaze skitters off mine. “Nothing.”

  I have a hunch that Nolan is involved, which is always a touchy subject. The brightest morning can be dimmed by her broody neighbor. “This outing is meant to be a momentous occasion.”

  Presley makes an encouraging sound while munching on a crostini.

  “Sorry for pooping on your party. Nice choice in venue, by the way.” Clea’s flat tone could use a proper sprucing.

  As a counterbalance, I add extra chipper into mine. “Isn’t it posh?”

  “I was going to say stuffy.” Her lack of interest proves that she’s totally bumming over Nolan.

  “All right, fun sponge. Don’t take advantage of the eye candy.”

  I study the interior of Benny Dee, pretending it’s from a fresh perspective. A soothing vibe, clean lines, and artful décor make this a hot spot for just-left-the-office work collaborations. Eight small booths frame the outer edge, which aren’t the main attraction here, but are highly sought after all the same. We managed to snag one by arriving prior to happy hour.

  “Apparently”—she flicks a glance across the wide room—“what you’re doing with Landon isn’t the only subject we disagree on.”

  “That’s outrageous. This is where all the sexy suits hang out.” I gesture toward the main focal point.

  A wraparound bar occupies a majority of the space. The surface is made from black marble that’s polished to a gleam under the dim lighting. Most of the stools are occupied by the corporate sorts that this place stands its reputation on.

  She follows my motion with raised brows. “Ah, the plot thickens.”

  “We’re all single and ready to mingle. You’re welcome.” I blow her a kiss.

  Clea catches it, regardless of her sour expression. “As if you’re trying to score a date. You’re too preoccupied with Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

  The nickname makes me snicker. “Do you mind if I steal that?”

  “By all means,” she laughs.

  The door crashes open with enough force to rattle every fixture in the joint. I’m in a direct line to the entrance, providing me with immediate gawking access. My eyes pop wide as the breath stalls in my lungs. “No fucking way.”

  My friends whip around so fast their necks crack. Clea peeks over at me, wearing a broad grin that shows off her sparkling teeth. Oh, sure. Now she’s happy. “I think we conjured him from thin air.”

  “Or the fiery pits of hell,” I correct.

  As if hearing my disbelief, Landon swings his gaze to our booth. His eyes lock on mine—of course—and a sly smirk cuts into his steely mask. I shouldn’t be shocked by him appearing unexpectedly. That seems to be his method of madness. He strides toward us with a predator’s lethal grace, zeroing in on me like a freaking bullseye.

  Presley perks up from her self-induced timeout. “Oh, this just got interesting.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I mutter.

  Landon reaches the edge of our table in seven long strides. It was easy to count—each clip from his shiny loafers bangs louder than a snare drum. My freaking ears are ringing as he surveys our seating arrangement.

  His gaze latches to Clea and Presley, who are still gaping at him. “Hello, ladies.”

  “Well, hey there. This is quite a… coincidence.” Clea looks at me with that last word.

  I’m busy digesting the odds of this happening organically. Those calculations are smashing into each other and causing a ruckus I can’t process over. A loud whistle blares from inside me, stealing all traces of my composure.

  “You.” My voice betrays me, bleeding emotions all over the floor.

  The man receiving my wrath doesn’t so much as flaring a nostril. “Me.”

  “What’re you doing here?” The accusation should sting his cheek with the amount of force I slap on.

  Without asking—or gaining permission—the asshole plops down on my side of the bench and forces me to scoot in. “Taking a load off after a long day. I appreciate you saving me a seat.”

  It takes two seconds too long for the smoke to clear from my mind. He’s already making himself at home with an arm resting along the top of the booth. I elbow him, but my efforts are in vain.

  “We didn’t,” I insist.

  Landon ignores me. “It sure is fancy finding you here.”

  “Is it really? I’m at this bar often enough. Brogen Realty is a block away.”

  “I had no idea.” In this low lighting, his eyes resemble melted chocolate. A gurgle bubbles in my stomach as he submerges me in those brown depths. It’s a cruel trick that this man claiming to despise emotion harbors such an expressive stare. If he weren’t already on my shit list, ruining another favorite for me would get him a fast pass straight to the top.

  “Lying will set your pants on fire,” I warn.

  “How thrilling.” His chuckle is blended with warmth, rather than the usual glacial tones.

  Presley cups a hand near her jaw, turning so her lips are hidden from Landon’s view. “He’s so hot,” she mouths.

  The man in mention laughs louder beside me, clearly seeing her so-called private message. “Thanks, beautiful.”

  Then he winks at her. What the actual fuck?

  I scowl. “Quit hitting on my friend.”

  “Would you prefer I reserve my affections for you?” He pins me with a smolder I can feel in my lower belly.

  “Who in the hell are you and what have you done with Landon Winters?” I slash a hand down the space between us. “Scratch that. Are you following me?”

  “Now who’s being presumptuous?”

  He’s resorting to throwing my words back at me. Again. I swivel in my seat, attempting to escape his magnetism. “It’s highly suspect that you just so happen to arrive at the same bar I’m in.”

  Landon hooks a thumb at me while addressing the girls sitting across from us. “Is she always this snooty?”

  Presley wags a finger at him. “Don’t make me regret complimenting your
sexy face.”

  It’s about time she abandons the Landon fan club.

  “How about you answer my question?” I paste on a smile for good measure.

  His relaxed posture doesn’t falter at my insistence. “Since I’m in town, a few acquaintances invited me out for drinks.”

  “There are people who agree to voluntarily hang out with you?” I let my mouth drop open. “On purpose?”

  “Vannah,” Clea scolds.

  I glare at her. “Are you serious right now?”

  “He’s being nice. You said nice guys—”

  I point at her. “Don’t finish that sentence. This man doesn’t fit into that category.”

  “He can’t be that bad,” she protests.

  Landon sighs, the sound wistful. “She’s right, I’m afraid. I’m willing to change, though. Do you believe that’s possible?”

  “A reformed bad boy,” Presley murmurs to Clea.

  I want to bang my head on the table. These two need to get out more. Landon gets a glare from me. “No chance. You’re irredeemable.”

  “I’d still like to try.” He ghosts a knuckle along my cheek.

  With a gasp, I jolt away from him. The area he touched has a noticeable tingle. Good thing I pulled away before he could burn me. “What’re you doing?”

  He leans in until his shoulder brushes mine. “I already told you. There are changes to be made.”

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

  “Not really, but I can be patient.” His cocky smirk morphs into a full grin. The sight would be something to behold if he wasn’t such a bastard.

  I buckle down on my reinforcements. This is Landon Winters I’m dealing with. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “That depends on if you’re interested.”

  “No.” There isn’t enough conviction in my tone to fool a gullible teenager, let alone Landon.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  I cross my arms with a huff. “I’m merely curious about the true purpose behind this.”

  “We could make a good team.” His throat bobs with a thick swallow. “I’m prepared to admit that you have the potential to make me a better man.”

  My friends coo over his response. Clea is sporting a dopey grin. “That’s kinda sweet.”

  “This isn’t a romance novel. He’s just spewing crap and hoping it sticks.” I flail a hand toward them. “Don’t listen to this drivel.”

  Her smile disappears when she looks at me. “Remember what we said about being jaded, Van.”

  Landon tips a nod at her. “I like you.”

  “That’s… nice.” She doesn’t appear convinced. Not completely, at least. “I’m still trying to decide if I should defend you.”

  “I’ll provide an exceptional character reference.”

  The urge to flick his earlobe is fierce. “You can’t turn my friends against me.”

  A challenge glitters in his gaze. “No? That’s a pity.”

  “We can at least listen to his voice whisper sweet nothings to you.” That extremely unhelpful suggestion comes from Presley.

  “Yeah, it’s not like you have to accept his advances or anything.” Clea wags her brows.

  I cut them a sharp look. “Worst wing-women ever.”

  Landon slinks lower until my bent knee touches his thigh. “Don’t blame them for taking a neutral stance. They’re choosing to remain optimistic.”

  “With anyone except you, their efforts would be greatly appreciated.” I glare at the traitors across from us.

  Presley and Clea don’t look the least bit guilty as they watch us bicker.

  “I can be a decent guy for you.” His vow might as well be etched in sand on the shoreline with a roaring tide rolling in.

  Another disgruntled noise escapes me. “That’s not suspicious or anything.”

  He twirls a section of my hair around his finger. “I don’t blame you for being skeptical. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.”

  My stomach flips and I cringe. I dislodge him with a tug. “Knock it off.”

  Landon doesn’t retreat from my personal space. “Why deny what I want?”

  “I don’t expect you will, which is why you’re resorting to more extreme measures. It’s all about claiming victory for you.”

  “We could both win this way.” He makes that offer seem like it’s a legitimate option.

  “By having sex?” I bat my lashes at him.

  A lazy shrug draws him marginally closer. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

  “Since when do you care about what I want?” My defenses rise with a creak.

  “New beginnings, Savannah.” A devious glint reflects in his eyes. Landon is planning something, and that knowledge kicks my own plotting into high gear. I’m not giving him the chance to attack. He doesn’t get to stomp on my turf without repercussions.

  “New strategies, you mean.”

  “Am I being too forward?”

  “You’re being too obvious,” I correct.

  He lowers his gaze, tracing a pattern on the wooden table. “Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

  A snort spits from my flaring nostrils. His acting skills have room for improvement. Maybe I should send Sasha in for another round. “You’re only doing this to get back at me.”

  His eyes remain downcast. “Am I?”

  Would slapping him get me fired? I weigh the benefits against the consequences. “You couldn’t be more transparent. A rock would be more emotionally available than you.”

  “I’ve never had a reason to be until now.”

  With a roll of my neck, I whip out my ace in the hole. “How about your mystery girl?”

  “She cheated on me.”

  I wince from the hostility in his tone. Following close behind is the shock that he actually answered. “Well, that sucks.”

  “I deserved it.” Landon’s voice has returned to a smooth timbre. These silky notes are meant to lure me into the hunter’s clutches.

  “You probably did. No offense,” I add when he frowns at me.

  But that doesn’t mean he’s discouraged by my rejection. The fact that my barbs ping off him without retaliation makes a knot tighten in my chest. His game is strong. “Give me a chance to prove myself as worthy.”

  I cover my face with an open palm. Fighting with Asshole Landon has become second nature. My armor against that version is reinforced with bitter barbs and resentment. A semi-sweet twist, though? This wasn’t in the manual. I’m not prepared to deflect his charms.

  A lightbulb flickers on through the haze that’s jumbling my thoughts. This could work in my favor. Getting Landon to fall in love would be significantly easier if I pretend to fall first. It’s definitely something to consider.

  In the meantime, I can’t help but needle him a bit. “Nice try, Lannie. It’s not going to happen.”

  He stoops until his lips brush my ear. “I beg to differ.”

  “And that’s your choice.” The thrum in my pulse is getting harder to ignore.

  “It’ll be a pleasure to wear you down, sugar.”

  The sight of a familiar face gives me a much-needed reprieve from his onslaught. “Oh, damn. It’s Brance Stone.”

  Two heads fling in the direction I’m nodding.

  “And his super hunky friend,” Presley tacks on.

  Landon’s gaze follows our attention to a corner section along the glossy bar. “So?”

  Clea scoffs. “You have eyeballs. The man is hot.”

  “He’s married.” His deadpan tone doesn’t deter our ogling.

  Presley hums. “We’re well aware. Braelyn and Brance are fairytale goals.”

  “They’re super cute together.” A zing of envy stabs me. Their love burns bright enough to supply the entire Twin Cities with power. The hopeless romantic in me wanders along a loopy path as I fantasize about what that level of commitment feels like. Toasty and cozy, no doubt.

  Clea sighs, resting her cheek on a closed fis
t. “That stops him from checking us out, not vice versa. It’s not as if our appreciation of his sex appeal is hurting anyone.”

  Landon’s grunt is overflowing with irritation. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  I laugh under my breath. “Are you jealous?”

  “Of what?” Landon skewers me with a glare. “You objectifying some dude? Yeah, I’m positively glowing green over here.”

  “He’s totally jealous,” Presley giggles.

  The signature sneer I’ve come to expect from him makes a booming appearance. “Quit acting like he’s a legend.”

  “He kinda is. Ask my dad.” Lord knows he can talk about Brance and his spotless career for hours without prompting.

  Landon’s snarling lip aims higher. “A man whose opinion means shit to me? No, thanks.”

  I shrug, unfazed by his sudden outburst. This is our comfort zone. “People pay a hefty sum for his advice.”

  “It takes more than that to gain my respect—or business, for that matter.”

  For some reason, it gives me a satisfying flutter that he’s outright refusing to fake pleasantries where my father is concerned. That’s screwed up on so many levels. I should probably call my dad and hash things out. It’s been several months too long since our last blowout. Good times.

  A thought occurs to me as I shake off that mental detour. “Do you know Brance?”

  His confirmation arrives with a sharp nod. “And Jordan. They’re who I’m here to meet.”

  “Small world,” I mutter.

  “Would you like me to properly introduce you?”

  “We’re already acquainted,” I retort. Did he blank out from jealousy and forget our conversation? Besides that, it would be weird to meet his friends. Landon obviously holds no such qualms.

  “Then how about you just come over there and say hello.” There’s no suggestion in his tone. A straight demand coming from the asshole himself.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  Landon looms closer. At this rate, he’ll be sitting in my lap soon. “As an act of good faith on my part.”

  “Introducing me to your friends is supposed to convince me?”

  The mesmerizing smolder returns to his features. “That’s the goal. Don’t couples mingle between their prospective social circles?”

  My composure cracks when I gawk at him. How far is he planning to take this little ruse? I’ve hit my threshold for sitting idly by while he spins some elaborate farce at my expense. Testing his limits is fair game. It just depends on how far I’m willing to go.