Something Like Hate, page 15
I tried to work out my anger, but the gym was closed. Someone flooded the women’s locker room. Then, one of the elevators was out of service because a redhead, who is too chatty for my taste, is moving next door. To top it all off, the same was happening at the office.
However, in the office we only have one elevator. I had to climb all twenty-one floors, and I didn’t have time to shower even though I was sweating like a pig.
That’s not all, we’re working with a new company. Well, at least I’m trying to get the account. This winery has a base in Northern California. The owner has plans on expanding in Denver. They want to rebrand, and for the first time in a year, I’m all in on an account.
As the CEO, I don’t take many clients but this account is the right one for me. One day, I want to retire and maybe buy a vineyard or a brewery. Something that requires dedication, but I don’t have to be in an office twenty-four seven.
Unfortunately, the guy is taking his time. He’s not even telling me what he wants, just that he’ll hire who he thinks is just right for his company.
I’ve tried to explain to him, in many ways, I can create the best campaign for his company, as long as I have a vision of what he wants. He hasn’t budged. We’re also looking into buying a couple of small agencies in California to expand the company. I’m just not so sure if they have what I need.
“What a fucking day,” Devon complains as he enters my office. “We have a new neighbor.”
“Whatever,” I say, turning off my computer. “I’m about to sell you the company and retire.”
He huffs and shakes his head. “Do we have any leads with the winery?”
“He plans on adding a brewery, does that help?” I answer with another question and take a seat.
“Let’s take the night off,” he offers. “Tomorrow things will look better.”
I tap my fingers against the table and press my lips, looking at him. What can possibly change overnight that’ll make this shit any better?
“Yeah,” I say, “let’s grab dinner and have a couple of beers.”
There’s a saying: If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. In this case, the bartender would have murdered me with his bare hands since I arrived.
“What is it with Tom tonight?” Devon asks. “He’s usually pretty friendly.”
His name is Thomas, not Tom, I want to correct him. Claire told me once her brother hated to be called anything but Thomas.
“You know him?” I ask confused.
This is the first time I’ve come to this sports bar. It opened a couple of months ago, but I hadn’t had the time to come and check it out. The place is inviting, and I dare say the owner’s sister designed the logo. That’s Claire’s style.
“Yeah, I come here often. It’s close to the office and my apartment,” he says. “Do you owe him money?”
“He’s probably confusing me with someone or has a crush on you,” I joke, risking my skin.
Thomas Solis doesn’t look like the guy who would take a joke from me. He hates my guts. But I’m not going to explain to Devon how I know the guy and that if he could, he’d cut my throat and serve my head on a silver platter to his sister.
“We should’ve gone somewhere else,” I offer. “This place seems crowded.”
“It’s crowded because the food is great and so are the drinks,” he says. “Do you know they have a distillery on the outskirts of town? ...No, wait, it’s a brewery.”
“There’s another bar like this in the suburbs?”
“No,” he answers. “The brewery is there, next to a farm. If you ever want fresh eggs, I have the address. Your mom would like it.”
I nod, tempted to ask more. Maybe he can tell me something about Claire. But I’m not that lucky. Actually, my Monday is getting worse as Thomas approaches us.
He sets a pitcher and says, “On the house.”
“Thank you, man,” Devon says.
“I’ll be watching you,” Thomas warns me, ignoring Devon. “One fucking movement and this time it’ll be more than a black eye. You got me?”
Raising my hands as if surrendering, I say, “Not sure what you’re talking about, but I always watch what I do.”
He nods a couple of times and leaves.
“What was that?”
“Fuck if I know,” I answer, pretending to be confused. “Maybe he thinks I’m someone else?”
“So, we haven’t talked about hiring someone new. We need a Media and Marketing Director.”
I laugh because the last time we needed one, I lost my freaking mind.
“Have you spoken to Claire?” he asks.
“What?” I question, unsure if he’s talking about her work or my relationship with her.
“She did the right thing, quitting, but we can get her back, you know,” he says. “Gary is out, and we loved her work.”
I frown at him and say, “Gary wasn't the only reason she quit. He was a big reason, but not the only one.”
My mood darkens, and my heart becomes heavy as I remember our last meeting. Her eyes watching me with disgust. Her harsh words.
He reaches for his drink, takes a sip and says, “Something tells me I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me. Just say it.”
I nod and confess every single thing that happened between Claire and me. Well, I don’t tell him the details.
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” he says angrily but not surprised. “We have rules. Not just rules, there’s an entire code of conduct that you created to make sure we didn’t cross the lines. She could’ve sued your ass.”
Then, as if suddenly everything makes sense, he says, “That’s why you were drunk for weeks. Wasn’t it? I thought it was Delaney screwing with your head again. No, it was fucking Claire Solis.”
“It’s done, over and most likely I won’t ever see her again.”
His eyebrows lift and he says. “Fuck, you still love her.”
My phone rings. Its Mom. Again.
She’s been calling nonstop and I just can’t add her nagging to my Monday. Maybe I’ll answer tomorrow.
“She’s one of the best,” Devon says, tossing his hands up in the air. “I can’t believe you fucked it up.”
“We have good employees.”
“I was talking about her as a person. I know she was blunt and sometimes came off too bitchy, but she was funny, smart, and loved sports. If I knew the rule was there to break, I would’ve made her mine.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say.
“And he's still in love with her, folks,” he says with a smirk.
“It’s over.”
“If you say so,” he says with a shrug.
What can I do?
Fly to New York and beg for forgiveness?
Thirty-One
Miller
When I get home, the concierge has a note from Mom.
Call me as soon as you arrive, I can’t believe you kept this a secret from us.
A secret?
Huh, if she only knew. I keep my entire life hidden from her. Since the gym is open, I spend a couple of hours working out the frustration. Just seeing Thomas, I was reminded of Claire and how much I fucking miss her.
Nothing I do takes away the tension.
After I take a shower, I call Mom. The last thing I need is for her to arrive at my place unannounced. I hope this has something to do with Lola and nothing to do with my personal life.
This new wave of lectures about, “You need a stable life. You can’t say you’re happy when there’s so much uncertainty about your future.” Or my favorite, “What about children? I’m not getting any younger.”
Seriously, like she needs more grandchildren.
Three is plenty, Mom.
“I’m never going to forgive you,” she states when she answers the phone.
Oh fuck, what did I do? Her nonsense is the cherry on top of my already fucked-up day. She sounds upset. No, raging because I never tell her anything.
“Hello, Mom.”
“How’s Claire?” she asks, and I grunt.
Who the fuck knows Mom?
I haven’t seen for a long time. Too many months to count. I pour myself a shot of single malt and head to the terrace. Hopefully, there’s no one next door.
The ditzy girl who was moving in earlier today seems like one of those health nuts who’d go to bed early. Fuck, that woman is going to drive me crazy. She was way too chatty and overwhelming.
And flirty.
I hate that. I barely paid attention to what she said. God help me if I have to put up with her for long. I hope she has a boyfriend because the last single woman who moved across the hall was annoying as hell.
“Claire is doing wonderful, Mom,” I lie because that’s all I do in my life when it comes to Claire.
Lie, lie, lie.
My best hits are:
“Sorry my girlfriend and I are exclusive.” “Yes, she lives in New York, but we make it work.” “We’re taking it slow, but we’re solid.”
“Milo, I understand you don’t like us to intrude in your relationship, but you could’ve told me,” she says. “I hate surprises and finding out something as big as what you two are doing is unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I apologize because obviously I forgot to say something important which is... who the fuck knows?
What are you doing, Claire Bear?
Mom says it is big.
My chest tightens, because what if Claire is pregnant? Now wouldn’t that be some shitshow?
And how did she find out? Please don’t be back in town, married and pregnant.
“Why didn’t you pick her up from the airport?”
When were you at the airport, Mom?
Is that her new hobby?
Cooking for me and filling my refrigerator with containers isn’t enough, now she’s stalking my fake girlfriend.
“Why are you assuming that?”
“Well, if you had, she wouldn’t have been rolling her luggage by herself, would she?”
“Umm…”
Where the fuck did she see Claire?
I rub my throat, trying not to panic. Maybe I should’ve told her the truth after Claire left but I couldn’t do it. What now?
“Fine, I had a meeting and I couldn’t reschedule,” I lie because what else can I say.
‘Sorry, Mom, I have no idea where Claire is at the moment,’ isn’t something I’ll say any time soon. That might hint to her I’ve been lying for the past few years.
So, I put her on speaker and mute the phone as I play the game of: What in the World Is Claire Solis Doing and Where Is She Now?
Or as others like to call it, stalk her Instagram account. I promised last month I’d stop doing it, but today seems like a good day to break the promise.
“I almost broke the record,” I mumble. “Three weeks without stalking her.”
Home sweet home, let the new chapter begin.
“Fuck!” I mutter when I see her selfie. It was taken at the airport.
Then there’s another one, right in front of my building. The new place.
I look around and what do you know, right on the next balcony I find a beautiful pair of dark eyes staring at me. She has a white carton in one hand and a spoon in the other, her mouth opened agape.
“Mom,” I say unmuting the phone. “I’m going to have to call you back.”
“You have to bring her to dinner.”
“Who?” I ask confused.
“Claire, of course. You have to bring Claire home. You never told us she was moving in with you,” she pauses. “I noticed her top was a little loose. Is she pregnant?”
“Mom, please don’t start,” I warn her.
“Well, you two are already taking a big step, but we’re so happy for you,” she says. “I knew you two would be together for the long run.”
I swallow because pregnancy would’ve been so much easier to explain. Something like, “She was sleeping with another dude.” The bitch.
“Mom, I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hang up and let out a loud exhale.
Claire remains still. She might not be breathing. I raise from my seat and walk closer to her side. The short glass wall is the only thing separating us and I could jump over it easily.
But I stop and take her all in. Her tank top is covering her beautiful breasts, but I can see her hard nipples pushing through.
Fuck, I miss touching her.
This is a dream, I conclude. That’s exactly what she looks like every night while I’m sleeping. A pair of shorts, showing her long, tanned legs and her sexy feet adorned by rings and bracelets.
In my dreams, she usually disappears when I get closer. Or she lets me make love to her and vanishes before I beg her to stay.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, staring at her as if I’m seeing a ghost.
She’s a beautiful mirage of the person I’ve missed for the past couple of years.
“Apparently, I moved in with you,” she says dryly.
So far, she hasn’t disappeared. I let out a breath and ask. “Are you back?”
“Of course, you should know, boyfriend,” she says. “Funny, this time you didn’t even ask me if I would play the part of, live-in girlfriend. What would that pay? The last time it was a fake trip to Tuscany. A fake villa in France would suffice.”
I would laugh if she wasn’t glaring at me or her voice wasn’t so harsh.
“No, seriously, why are you here?”
“I live here,” she says. “Apartment 23A, not… whatever your apartment’s number.”
Wait, that’s not possible. Earlier there was someone else moving in, not Claire. I would’ve recognized her.
“What happened to the other woman? The short redheaded one.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I forgot that under six feet everyone else is short to you. Danielle is taller than me.”
“You’re five foot nothing—I could easily carry you in my pocket,” I say with a grin, remembering how much I joked about her size and how she hated it. “So, this Danielle is your—”
She smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe she’s my secret weapon to destroy you and your company.”
Then, I remember some of the key things this Danielle said. We relocated. My boss should be here soon. There was a dog involved, who is friendly. Her boss is too, but she’s also a busy woman.
Why and from where did they relocate?
Fuck, I wish that woman had said something else—or I had paid more attention.
“So, I take it you're in town to stab more backs.” I decide to play her word game, why not?
Though what I’d like to do is kiss that smart mouth until I make her whimper and beg me to fuck her.
“No. I have more important matters to take care of. Would I want to behead someone while I’m at it? Yes,” she says with a crooked smile. “But only you.”
“I’m still special.”
“Laugh all you want, Miller,” she encourages me. “If I were you, I’d be careful. I’m going to squash you.”
“I’ll enjoy watching you try,” I retort, crossing my arms and leaning closer to her balcony. “Just don’t forget to pencil in between crushing and stabbing, dinner at my parents.”
“So,” she says, waving her hand toward my apartment, “aren’t we a little too old to continue lying to your parents, Milo?”
She uses my childhood nickname in her snarkiest tone, and instead of upsetting me, it turns me on. God, no wonder I haven’t been with anyone in such a long time. This woman literarily owns me. One word and I’m hard as granite.
This little, five foot nothing beauty owns all of me.
Claire rises from her seat and walks closer to me. “May I suggest that you man up. Why don’t you start by telling them how much you hate their nickname and end with how much you hate women?”
“Is that what you think? That I lie about you because I’m a womanizer.”
“Do you have a better reason?”
“You’d be surprised,” I offer. “Why don’t you stick around and find out?”
She looks at her wrist, pretending she has a watch and turns to look at me. “I’ve been in town for less than twelve hours, and so far, I’m not amused.”
“Stick around, Princess,” I suggest. “You’ll be shocked.”
“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” she says in a singing tone.
“But, Clarice, I thought we were past that.”
“So I take it you’re still sucking people’s souls for a living?”
I study the small wall between us. It’d be so easy to jump it.
All I want to do is kiss her senseless until she begs me to fuck her. Since I don’t want to spend the night in jail for trespassing or be the victim of a homicide, I storm back into my apartment.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
Thirty-Two
Miller
I couldn’t sleep last night.
How could I? Claire Solis is back in town.
Not just back in town, she’s living right next door. So close, and yet, so far. After the gym, I take a shower and get ready for work.
Today is going to be better, I tell myself. Maybe if I’m lucky, Claire is back in town and looking for a job. We’re going to have to compromise. I know what she’s capable of. Also, that she’s volatile. I need employees I can rely on.
If that’s the case, why would that Danielle chick follow her?
She mentioned something about her company relocating, didn’t she? Fuck, I have so many questions, and I don’t think Claire will answer any of them. Last night, she seemed as if she wanted to cut my balls off, or at least push me over the balcony to see if I could fly.
When I arrive at work, I am thankful the elevator is working today. If only I can get a few minutes of peace before I have to deal with my employees and all the ‘emergencies’ they have the moment they see me.
When I step into the elevator car, I hear a female voice calling, “Hold the elevator, please.”
I’m about to push them closed when I recognize those beautiful legs. So, I open it.
