Hate You: Chapter 6

I drop Titch’s lunch into his studio first, mainly because he’s nice and asked me very politely if I’d run to the closest McDonalds for him seeing as he had clients all afternoon. He gave me money and his order and I had no issue.

The boss, on the other hand. Him I had an issue with.

I can still feel the tingles just beneath my skin from the way he was looking at the two of us as Titch leaned forward to whisper his order to me. His wink clued me in to the fact that he was merely doing it to piss Zach off, and the second I saw the murderous look on his face I couldn’t help but think it was an awesome idea. It was instantly obvious that I’m not the only one feeling this weird vibe between us. Things aren’t all that different from when we were kids in that he’s still an arrogant arse, I hate him, and he’s still the hottest man in probably any room he walks into. But—and this is a big but, one that’s irritating the hell out of me—why can’t I stop imagining what he might look like if he were to whip his shirt off and put his lips on my skin? My core clenches now even at the thought.

He’s wrong. Everything I’ve never wanted. But man, I can’t help but crave a taste right now. He’s trying to piss me off because he clearly hates me for some reason as much as I do him, but with every insult that falls from his lips, my body just seems to want his more. I really need to get laid. It’s been months since I ended my last disastrous attempt at a relationship, and things have been more than a little dry for me since then. I’ve been telling myself that my vibrating friend does the job perfectly well, but maybe I’m just kidding myself. Maybe what I need is a night with a man. A capable one who can blow my socks off, give me the release I need so I can focus on what I should be doing with my life. Not obsessing over my arsehole boss.

“You are a fucking legend, Biff.” I can’t help smiling at Titch’s praise. He’s a really good guy, despite his choice in friends.

“It’s nothing. I got yours last so hopefully it’ll still be hot.”

“Appreciated,” he says, unwrapping his burger and taking a giant bite. “What’d you get boss man?” he mumbles around the food.

I open the paper bag in my hand and show him the contents. He damn near spits out his half-chewed food as he barks a laugh.

“He’s gonna love you for that.”

“I don’t know what you mean, I thought this was his kind of thing,” I say innocently, shrugging my shoulder, but the smile that plays on my lips shows I’m anything but.

I turn to leave but a nondescript noise from Titch has me stopping at the door.

“Biff,” he mumbles before swallowing. “Night out tonight. Celebrate our new member of staff. No excuses.”

I nod, because it seems like that’s the only choice I have. Although, to be honest a few drinks and a little dancing does sound like a fantastic idea. Maybe Zach will even remove the stick from his arse long enough to enjoy himself—if he even bothers coming. “Give me the details and I’m there.”

I leave him to his lunch, having already seen way too much of his half-eaten burger in his mouth and hesitantly head towards Zach’s closed door.

I knock but only to be polite. What I really want to do is storm inside his room and throw the lunch I so lovingly picked out at his head.

“Do you want this now?” I ask as I poke my head into the room.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge I’m here, so I’m forced to take it over to him. I guess I could drop it to the floor, but then I won’t see his reaction to my choice.

I lower the bag beside him and wait.

“A coffee wouldn’t go amiss as well.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I take a step back and butterflies erupt in my belly as he looks into the bag.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, pulling out the vegan superfood salad I picked up for him followed by the disgusting green bottle of goodness that I thought would finish the meal nicely.

“You didn’t specify, and I thought seeing as you obviously work out that maybe you’re on a health kick.”

“This isn’t healthy, this is rabbit food.” He stands and takes a step towards me, forcing me to take one back.

“I think it’s the same thing,” I counter.

“I can smell McDonald’s.”

“That’s what Titch asked for.”

“And you didn’t think to get me something while you were there?”

My back hits the door I came through not so long ago as he continues to stalk towards me, his blue eyes sparkling with irritation and desire causing heat to zero in on my core.

“You didn’t say what you wanted.” I tilt my head to the side and try to look innocent. I’m not so sure it works.

His forearm lands on the door right beside my head, and he stares down at me. His scent surrounds me and I fight to keep control of my breathing with him so close, but I know it’s not a battle that I’m winning.

“How about you go back and get me some real food? Something that involves meat, maybe.”

“How about… go fuck yourself. You asked for food, I got you food. Maybe you should consider being more specific next time.”

His jaw pops as his teeth grind. “I should have sacked you yesterday.”

“Maybe, but you didn’t.” I probably shouldn’t provoke him because he could still quite easily get rid of me, although my instincts tell me that he’s enjoying me being around more than he’d ever admit.

His lips part with a comeback, but the second I look down at them he closes them again. The silence is heavy but nowhere near as suffocating as the tension that crackles between us.

He moves closer still and my eyelids are desperate to close, but I need to keep my wits about me. He might look like he’s going to kiss me but I doubt that’s what’s actually going to happen.

“You need to get the fuck out of my room.”

I don’t move immediately other than to lift my eyes. When I find the dark blue staring back at me I’m frozen. My chest heaves as our breaths mingle and my breasts very lightly brush against his shirt. My nipples harden and my core floods with heat. I’m pretty sure that if he were to make any kind of move right now I wouldn’t have it in me to stop him, no matter how much I dislike the wanker.

“Now.” An amused smile curls at his lips as I scramble to get away from him and pull the door open.

I’ve almost made my escape when the arsehole calls me back. As if I need any more torture.

“What?” I bark, desperate for a few minutes alone to breathe.

“Once you’ve cooled off, go back and get me a fucking burger or two, hey?”

“Go your-fucking-self. I’m not your slave.” His quick intake of breath is the last thing I hear before I slam his door shut and run to the kitchen.

Resting my back on the counter, I drop my head back and drag in a few deep breaths. This thing between us is going to go one of two ways: I’m either going to fall into bed with him and allow him to fuck my brains out, or I’m going to cause him some physical damage in an attempt to shut him the fuck up. I’m not sure which idea I prefer the most, if I’m being honest. Fucking him and hurting him both sound quite appealing.

Once I feel like I’ve somewhat composed myself. I grab my own lunch and sit myself at the little breakfast bar. Usually I’d sit out the front and eat, but seeing as I treated myself while I was getting Titch’s lunch, not Zach’s, I don’t want to stink the reception out with my takeout grease smell.

I feel better once I’ve got a full belly, and, with a fresh coffee in hand, I make my way to my desk. I ignored both Zach’s requests for a different lunch and a coffee. I’ve no idea what his last slave died of but I’m certainly not replacing her.

Turning my monitor on, I find a handful of new emails. One makes me roll my eyes. Does he really think he’s being clever?

My curser hovers over the delete button. I don’t want to give into his pettiness, but something stops me.

I emphasize my name in the hope that one day soon he’ll quit with the nickname that makes me want to cry every time I hear it. I’ve been called it many times over the years, but I fucking hate it. It was only my gran who kept it up, and coming from her mouth, it didn’t annoy me quite so much. Unlike when I hear Zach say it and it makes me want to rip his tongue out.

I don’t get a response so I can only assume that he’s too busy working on the client I failed to let in. I’m only working here four days a week; he’s going to have to get used to seeing his own clients in on the other days.

It must be almost an hour later when the bell above the door rings and a guy in a black and aqua jacket walks in carrying an insulated delivery bag.

“Delivery for Zach,” the guy says, unzipping the bag and pulling out a brown paper bag that matches the one I put in the bin not so long ago. He goes to put it down on my desk, but like hell am I going to be the one who delivers it to Zach.

“Third door on the right.” I point him down the corridor and then turn back to my computer so he can’t argue.

The rest of the night goes by fairly smoothly, but that’s mostly because Zach stays hidden away and I refuse to step foot in his room. If he wants a drink then he must think better of it because I receive no more requests.