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

by Harloe Rae

  A familiar ache grinds into my chest and I rub at the sore spot. Fucking Vannah and her viper claws. She sunk in deep enough to leave a mark.

  I don’t miss her. That’s not what’s causing this imbalance. I’ve just been knocked off-kilter by her. Period. This… situation will sort itself out soon, starting with getting these analysts to recover their balls. Even the woman has a pair buried somewhere—figuratively or not.

  Planting faulty evidence to ensure my employees are doing their jobs is common practice. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in that case. Acting like a tyrant while toying with my staff is another matter entirely. I’ve officially hit a new low for the week. It’s probably safe to admit that I’m not in the finest form as of late.

  The pounding against my skull drums harder. Sitting in their tense presence is becoming a chore. No one is willing to reveal the truth. Perhaps they’ve always been like this and I’ve failed to notice. Nothing stuck out as painfully dull until Vannah scrambled my brain. This is a one-sided game of chicken that isn’t worth playing. It’s apparently my responsibility to call off their useless hunt.

  “You’re dismissed.” I flick my wrist at the door.

  Without a peep, they scurry out fast enough to kick up dust. Fucking pansies. It’s as if they’re truly scared of me. I’m demanding and severe, but that’s not unreasonable for a man in my position. Maybe those are no longer admirable traits considering my recent decisions.

  I stalk to my office with a storm cloud chasing me. Walt is sulking at his desk for whatever reason. His flavor of the day probably dumped him on TikTok. With a closed fist, I slam the door and beckon the comfort to seep in. The reliable quiet never fails.

  It only takes ten seconds for me to realize that the peace I’ve come to expect from my domain doesn’t arrive. It’s silent, but in that grating way that makes me want to cover my ears. This isn’t a welcome reprieve, not in the slightest. The only thing this soundless bubble will achieve is allowing my thoughts to run rampant. How in the actual fuck do I escape a prison of my own making?

  I march to my phone and stab at the speaker button. “Get Hughes on the line.”

  Jordan is usually good for a verbal sparring match if the conversation calls for it.

  “Yes, sir.” Walt’s tone is flatter than his chest. Even my assistant lacks his usual fire against me.

  Several choice words spill from my mouth. “Who pissed in your coffee this morning?”

  “No one. I’ll get Mr. Hughes for you.” His monotone plucks at my last nerve.

  The urge to punch something jolts through my hand. “Dammit, Walt. I don’t need your moody shit.”

  His exhale crackles across the intercom. “I’m not the one who needs an attitude adjustment.”

  That bite of snark has me sitting up straighter. “I’m not paying you for mental health advice.”

  “Right.” Walt coughs, sucking in a deep breath. “My apologies, sir. Hold for me to connect Mr. Hughes.”

  My momentary boost deflates with a snarl as I collapse in my chair. The pause is short-lived when shrill ringing blares into the space. He has the decency to answer after two rounds, putting me out of my misery.

  “Jordan Hughes,” he greets.

  “It’s Landon.” My grunt offsets the cheer in his voice.

  He chuckles. “Well, shit. In all our years, you’ve never initiated contact.”

  I don’t bother trying to dispute that absolute truth. “Any fresh leads for me?”

  “Ah, there he is. Straight to business. I almost worried you were reaching out to be social.”

  “That would require me to actually enjoy talking with you.” Metal creaks as I recline in my seat.

  “Even you can’t steal my sunshine, Winters. Also, you’re the one who called me.” A smug grin practically radiates from his tone.

  The likelihood of this interaction going my way is narrowing by the second. “Do you have anything for me or not?”

  Jordan sighs. “Now isn’t a great time, unfortunately. I shouldn’t have answered to begin with.”

  I balk. “Too busy for me?”

  “Humble as ever.” He laughs again. “I’m ditching the grind to take my wife on a trip for our anniversary. Our flight is this afternoon. I only bounced by the firm to drop off a contract. You just happened to catch me.”

  “Lucky me.” I grind my teeth against a burning sensation flaming under my skin. His speech is salt in my festering wounds, and defeats the entire purpose of calling him.

  Some rustling echoes from his end. “Anything important to discuss?”

  “It can wait. I won’t delay you.” I turn my glare to the window, which isn’t helpful. The knot in my stomach doubles while I stare at the corner between those glass panels. Even my own fucking office is turning against me.

  “Thanks, man. Sadie will appreciate me following her directions. Her rewards—”

  I punch a button and his voice cuts off. There’s no chance that I want to know what his wife plans to do. The silence envelops me as I squeeze my eyes shut. Without staring at the crime scene, my imagination runs wild. All I hear is Vannah begging for more. Less than a week ago, she sat in this very chair and rode my face. That’s not a visual I can easily erase.

  The startling truth I’ve been trying to expel latches on with renewed strength. I miss her, dammit. What this revelation means for us in the long-term is still unclear. Vannah might not be interested in dating. That thought halts my staggering progress. Did I just contemplate dating?

  I dip my head with a groan. This woman is determined to take me down by any means necessary. One thing is certain—that feeling isn’t going away. If anything, the soul-sucking twinge is getting worse. This yearnful suffering is precisely why getting attached is for fools and chumps. I don’t have time to chase her fucking tail. Not that she even wants me to.

  Vannah’s reception to my attempts so far is below freezing. The chill is bone-deep and chattering my molars. Since I’m finally owning these emotions, the dam breaks and harsh reality pours in. It took a day for the weight of my betrayal to manifest, sinking onto my shoulders until I had to hunch over. The fact that I concocted such a sinister ploy to begin with is nauseating. Blaming my father is easy, but it’s a copout. He makes an excellent scapegoat, though. If only I hadn’t made the choice to rule my own life a decade ago, that dodging maneuver would be foolproof. I’ll never pride myself on cowering or hiding in anyone’s shadow. This is my mess to clean.

  I tap my phone to check for notifications. There are dozens waiting, but none from the only one I want to connect with. I’ve been trying to contact Vannah ever since we fought last week, but she won’t accept my calls or return my messages. With an upward swipe, I open our texting thread. The recent bubbles are all from me. That same result is found in my call log and inbox. Savannah Simons is ignoring me and that isn’t a bold exaggeration.

  Traveling to Minneapolis is a valid solution, but not an immediate option. My schedule will keep me stationed in Chicago for at least five more days. Other possibilities for the interim seem slim with her radio silence. I considered sending her flowers or an oversized teddy bear. After my last delivery, those gifts will probably be taken out of genuine context and thrown straight into the trash. I haven’t gone over her head by contacting Vince, but that’s an avenue I’ll keep in my detour routes if necessary. It’s a dick move, which I’ve already met my quota on where she’s concerned. I’m not above stooping to drastic measures if she forces my hand, though.

  Vannah can’t brush me off and assume I’ll accept defeat. Battling against her has become my specialty. A plan solidifies from the flaming ashes in my heart. If I have any say in this war, we have a lifetime of fights in our future.

  As always, our business is far from finished.

  The cramp radiating across my shoulders squeezes tighter as another second ticks off the clock. Only thirteen minutes stand between the meeting with Sunny Skies and me. Reviewing the recent inspection resu
lts is usually a breeze, leading directly into the next phase, and this should be no different. The keyword there is should—written in bold and underlined.

  Normally, by this point, both sides are ready to settle. I’m positive Sunny Skies is more than eager to get their expansion rolling forward. We’ve been stuck in a holding pattern for weeks, no thanks to a certain investor who refuses to be satisfied. Just the reminder sends a fresh wave across my already itchy skin. It’s their mistake for giving Landon too much power.

  He’s changed strategy since our fight in Chicago. Suddenly, Landon is dragging his feet and using any excuse to delay the process. I’m well aware he’s doing this on purpose to dig at me. After his most recent complaints about a crack in the concrete and a busted handle on some pipe, I was ready to tell Vince he could assign Landon to another broker. But quitting his case won’t get him off my back. If anything, that would probably entice him to up the stakes again. I just need to grit my teeth and get through this. It will be my greatest challenge to date.

  A tremble twitches through my fingers as I continue fidgeting with two connected paperclips. I’ve managed to avoid Landon’s attempts at contacting me for nearly three weeks. The man is persistent, I’ll admit, but didn’t take his newfound habit far enough to pop by for an unannounced visit. It’s almost guaranteed that this session won’t be the standard process with an uneventful agenda if he decides to crash the proceedings. I’m expecting his attendance, but he has yet to show.

  Landon does have an appreciation for the dramatics. His tendencies could score him a leading role on Broadway, or maybe The Strip. He’s probably hiding in a closet, waiting until I pass to leap out. The idea is laughable, more so at me for believing that could actually happen. I clutch my head and curse the fates responsible for turning me into such a nut.

  It’s official—I’m losing it. The spark within my guts is little more than a fizzle. My boss bitch mask is nowhere to be seen. That protective shield would really come in handy, especially today. I haven’t fully recovered from my confidence taking that brutal beating. Landon is the obvious offender, but I should be better equipped to bounce back without lingering injury.

  After sucking in a long breath, I exhale even slower. I’m fine. Mostly. Kind of. The pulsing in my temples shifts, attacking the base of my skull. All right, I’m a mess. Maybe some would grant me the compliment of being a hot one. At least I’d have that going for me.

  The countdown is almost over and delaying the inevitable will only increase this bout of anxiety. I begin gathering my folders when there are five minutes left to wait. These idle hands are only going to cause me trouble. A haughty scoff sounds from behind me. I glance over my shoulder, revealing Olivia in all her glaring glory. Animosity drips from her twitching upper lip. The day someone pulls that stick from her ass will be one to celebrate.

  “Have fun in your precious meeting.” Her pretty features twist further into a sneer.

  Engaging her will only end in a fight. I turn from her and refocus on what’s important. My wits need to be properly sharpened to defend against Landon while he’s in the same building.

  Another huff rolls out of her. “You think you’re so special. Vince just lobbed Winters to you. The most senior agent should’ve been assigned to him.”

  Sure would be convenient for her if that’s how our company played, considering she fills that role. Not well, but that’s not what she cares about. This career can be extremely rewarding, but only if the effort gets put in. Olivia prefers to rely on her looks and personality, which is why her payout sucks.

  I roll my eyes and swivel to face her. “That’s not how our system distributes new clients, and you know it.”

  Although after recent events, I contemplated passing her the reins to Landon’s cash cow. If she were a smidge nicer to me, the account would already be hers.

  Olivia juts out her chin. This wench makes me look like a softie. “Yeah, well, maybe Vince needs to consider changing the rules.”

  “Maybe you should ask him.” I hitch a thumb at his office. Feeding her shitty demeanor isn’t my job. Neither is pampering her bruised ego.

  She crosses her arms, staring at me with unveiled fury. “Maybe I will.”

  “Great. I can’t wait to hear how that turns out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a precious meeting to attend.” I tip my chin and stride away, dodging the daggers she’s undoubtedly stabbing into my back.

  The conference room is open and buzzing with hushed murmurs when I arrive. A decent gathering is already congregating prior to the main event starting. The Sunny Skies owners are sitting next to Landon, along with a few people I haven’t met. His signature scowl latches onto me as I enter. He looks too handsome for being such a devious shit. That fitted suit and red tie are goading me, but it’s the gleam in his brown eyes that threatens real damage. I’m not blindsided by his presence, even though I didn’t see him come in. That’s enough to click my hackles into position with a resounding screech.

  I take a chair on the opposite side of the table. Vince bustles in and plops down beside me. Introductions kick off the agenda, which is the most I’ll have to speak. My participation isn’t mandatory, but I’m not giving Landon an excuse to fetch me. The entire team for both parties usually attends simply as support if their representation is needed.

  The inspectors and property managers do most of the talking. These findings summaries are drawn out and mostly redundant. It all turns into muted static after a few minutes. I’m following along, keeping my focus zeroed in on the reports, but the stare from across the room is hard to ignore. Regardless of how willy-nilly Landon wanted to initially slap down an offer and claim ownership, there are several hoops for us to dive through from beginning to end. The red tape in corporate real estate is extra sticky. This session is just one hurdle to reach a closing date. If we ever get that far, of course.

  They drone on about minor scrapes and slight damage, but the building is in great condition overall. From these findings, the contingencies in this contract should be minimal. It won’t be that easy if the asshole searing his gaze into me has anything to say about it. I keep my eyes trained on any point that’s nowhere near him. That doesn’t stop me from feeling the lick of heat his attention scalds along my flesh.

  Forty-five minutes have never crawled by at such a slow pace. My nerves feel scratched raw by Landon’s relentless onslaught. From my periphery, I catch his unwavering interest still concentrating on me. I almost cry in relief when the final page has been adequately discussed. The telltale shuffle of papers being gathered into collective heaps has me twitchy. I’m flexing my muscles, preparing to make a hasty retreat at the earliest opportunity.

  “May we have the room?” Landon stares at me while barking the command.

  Everyone begins to rise, including me.

  His exhale is powerful enough to press pause on our exit. “Savannah, may I speak with you a moment in private?”

  “No.” There’s zero hesitation biting my tongue. I’m not the least bit surprised that he plans to use our situation as an advantage.

  Vince widens his eyes at me, but I ignore both men. The others have already fled. My heels are practically vibrating on the carpet to follow in their wake. I begin walking with every intention to dash from sight.

  “Vannah.” Vince’s reprimand is steeped in warning. Curb my attitude or pay the consequences.

  I clench my jaw, keeping my gaze purposely averted while addressing Landon. “Do you have an issue with the reports?”

  “No, I just need a moment to discuss our future projects.”

  Screw decorum. “In that case, you’re speaking to the wrong person. Your account will be transferred to another agent.”

  “Vannah,” Vince scolds again. “What has gotten into you?”

  The fact that my boss is taking Landon’s side only serves to further aggravate the churning in my stomach. I loosen my fists and return to the chair I just vacated. “Fine, we’ll have a conversation.�
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  Landon waits until my boss closes the door after exiting, leaving us alone. The temperature instantly spikes as he stalks around the table toward me. By some miracle, he stops several feet away, parking his sculpted ass on the edge of the table. The silence stretches until it’s choking me. I lift my gaze to find his pinned on me. He strokes a palm over his stubbled jaw. Considering it’s not even noon, he must’ve forgotten to shave. I’m choosing not to overanalyze why that thought popped into my brain.

  As the sole target of his focus, the urge to fidget is waging an internal battle within me. I drum on the armrest instead. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Miss me?”

  “I did, actually.”

  The tips of my fingers halt on a downward descent as his words penetrate the anger enveloping me. I must be hearing things. “Other women aren’t measuring up, huh? Bummer.”

  He gives no outward reaction that suggests my snark makes an impact. “You didn’t return my calls.”

  A brow quirks at his audacity. “Did you actually expect me to?”

  “Yes, it’s common courtesy.”

  I scoff, attempting not to laugh. “Practice what you preach, Mr. Winters.”

  “Savannah,” he drawls.

  “Lannie,” I retort.

  The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. “Damn, I’ve really missed you.”

  I sweep my eyes to the ceiling for a moment’s reprieve. Gawking at his hot face while he lies straight to mine isn’t pleasing to the self-esteem. “Is there an actual purpose to this conversation or are you just toying with me like usual?”

  “I need to apologize for how I treated you.” Landon’s hands mold around the lip of the table, turning white at the knuckles.

  “Well, all right.” I stand with a boost of energy straightening my posture. “I don’t accept your apology. Is there anything else before I go?”

  “Do you want me to walk away, Ms. Simons?”