Something Like Hate, page 21
“It’s past nine o’clock at night.”
“Aw, you’re worried about my welfare. How touching.” He grins. “The only way I would stay is if you offer me another way to exercise.”
“Get out of here!”
“I thought so.” He leaves without giving me time to say anything else.
Bastard. Why can’t he have warts and shit like that?
Friday morning, I wake up early and go for a run. When I return, there’s no sign of Miller in the house. I go to my room to pick up some clothes and a clean towel before heading to the bathroom.
The door is open ajar and as I push it in, I find him taking a shower.
Miller’s forehead rests on the glass wall of the shower, his eyes are closed, and one of his hands pumps his shaft fast. I know I should be walking away but I can’t stop admiring him. The water hits his broad shoulders. The drops flow down his chiseled body.
I can’t look away, not when he looks this gorgeous. I want to kiss him, run my lips down the hard, slick muscles of his body. Drop on my knees and take him deep into my mouth. It’s hard to suppress the desire to lick his head, taste him. Stroke him as I make him beg for more.
Instead, I watch him as he teases himself, cupping his balls, pulling his cock hard.
His desperate grunts make my legs quiver and my core ache with need. His lust mixes with mine, hanging in the steam. It’d be so easy to just step in and join him. I need to have some kind of release and the craving increases as his shallow breathing echoes through the bathroom.
“Fuck, Princess,” Miller gasps in a low, guttural sound.
I hold my breath and just as I’m about to turn around, he asks, “Did you enjoy the show, Clarice?”
“I—”
“You owe me one,” he says longingly, watching me.
“One what?” I stutter frozen, looking at him, desperate to give him whatever he asks me for and fighting it.
“I get to watch you touch yourself.”
I’d be lying if I say those words don’t affect me. That a part of me doesn’t want to let him watch, because I do have to take care of the ache between my legs. But I can’t let him know that. There’s no way I’m going down that road again. First, is the sound of sweaty bodies and then, my heart shattering. No thank you.
I huff, putting back on my armor. “In your dreams.”
“Baby, you have no idea what happens between us in my dreams, but it’s fucking mind-blowing.” He winks. “I can show you whenever you’re ready.”
Forty-Two
Claire
Winemaking is an art. A process that requires love, patience, and dedication. The Gyles family has done that for generations. As we tour the property, I learn how different each generation is from the previous ones in terms of their process and legacies. There’s so much heart put into what they do, it doesn’t feel like a business but an act of love.
Tony leaves us in the tasting room to check on one of the barrels. I’ve been trying to avoid Miller since the naked incident, but it’s been close to impossible. This time, when he speaks, I can’t cut him off with a question to Mr. Gyles.
“Can you imagine?” Miller asks. “Starting something that will be passed on for generations to come. I wish I could’ve followed Dad’s steps.”
“Well, you have a company,” I remind him.
“Would you force your children to go into the business because it’s their legacy?”
I shake my head. “It’d have to be something like this, you know. Or like my parent’s little farm, which is becoming like a family business. Not that I’m a part of it.”
“Family business,” Miller says. “You contribute to it, don’t you?”
“If creating all their branding, campaigns, and advertisements count, then I guess I do.”
“When you worked on them, what were you thinking?”
“I wanted them to reflect why Mom does it. She’s always been pro-organic, clean eating and all that new age health-nut stuff.” I press my index finger to my lips. “Don’t tell her the last part though.”
“I think that’s what we need to do with this place.”
“You seriously think we can work together, don’t you?”
“I know we can, and I don’t think this is optional.”
“So what? I trust you with what I can do and then watch you take it away from me?”
He shakes his head. “Come to work with me. I’ll give you whatever you want,” he offers.
I laugh. “God, that’s your angle, hiring me?”
“You and I could do amazing things together,” he says with that arrogant confidence I used to admire, and now I detest.
“We could’ve, but you missed your chance,” I remind him.
“I’ll match your salary and give you ten percent of the company’s shares,” he offers.
“Why would I want that?”
“You said it once, Blend will never be yours.”
“And 23 Media would?” I ask skeptically.
He nods. “That’s the plan.”
“You’re only trying to figure out a way to keep this account and not lose the ones you already have.”
He glares at me. “I heard you’ve been visiting your old accounts, not cool, Clarice.”
“The non-compete clause has expired. I can pursue them.”
“If you want them, come and work with me.”
“I’ll never work for you,” I repeat.
“I said with me, not for me,” he says.
“Uh-huh and once you don’t need me, you’ll push me away. If there was another way to nail this account, you’d be working that angle.”
As he’s about to speak, Mr. Gyles enters the room.
“Shall we continue? Let me show you the champagne crop,” he says.
We continue our way through the vineyard. He explains the different types of grapes and how he rotates the crop. I don’t pay much attention because Miller is right next to me. His hands touching me accidentally. A caress on my hand, my arm, my back.
Stay away from me.
During lunch, we eat with the workers from the vineyard. Mrs. Gyles provides breakfast and lunch.
“See, this is how you treat your employees,” I mumble under my breath.
“You have no idea how my company operates, Solis,” he says. “I dare you to come over and take a look at what 23 Media Inc. is all about.”
“Not interested.”
“It’s up to you. Live in the ignorance and bitterness that isn’t taking you anywhere. I’m offering you your dream.”
“You know shit about my dreams,” I say.
He doesn’t because hell if I know them. I love my job and I want to keep going, reach the top. Also, I want a family. When I look at Nikki and Craig with their children, I want that.
What are my dreams?
I thought it was to conquer the male-dominated world of advertising. But maybe there’s a lot more to life than having the best job and to keep climbing the ladder. Maybe it is just doing what makes me happy while sharing it with a family of my own.
“I never said dreams, just one of them.”
“Ms. Solis, Miller, I hope you two don’t mind if I leave you here. The golf carts are available to you. We’ll see you at dinner. The entire family will be at the main house.”
Once he leaves, I excuse myself too and head to the place where I’m staying. I pick up my purse and drive away to town. I like to visit local shops, and the further away I’m from Miller, the better.
“You’re still around?” he asks as I enter the house.
“Look at you, wearing a shirt. A classy one, if I say so myself,” I say as I walk toward my bedroom. “Why are you so formal, Archer?”
“There’s nothing formal about my attire.”
“Slacks, button-down shirt, and a jacket. Nothing casual to it either.”
Well then, my jeans and blouse are off the table. Time to up the game with something that screams, professional and classy. I enter my room; take out the little black dress I brought with me, and a pair of heels.
After a quick shower, I put on some makeup, fix my hair, and get dressed. When I come out of the bathroom, he’s already gone. I notice the golf cart is still outside. Either someone gave him a ride, or he decided to walk.
Not my problem, I think as I realize he’s not going to make it on time. I shut the door and jump when I hear the low voice right behind me. “As usual, you clean up well, Solis.”
“I thought you had already left.”
He shakes his head. “Not everyone is like you.”
“Me, you think I’d abandon you just to get the project? I’ve always been a team player, Archer. Unlike you.”
“Again with the assumptions.”
“They aren’t assumptions. Haven’t you heard the phrase; actions speak louder than words? You left me in Cancun to go and get your fucking project—which I ended up getting, by the way,” I gloat.
“Whatever, I could spend the next hundred years trying to convince you that I’m not the same person. But if you won’t take my word for it, maybe you should see the company for yourself.”
I sigh. If three years with Miller and three years away from Miller have taught me anything, it’s that no one should be the kind of boss he was to me.
And no one should think aspiring to be better than him is special. No, it should be common sense to treat employees with respect.
“Okay, let’s say you’re a nice guy who treats his employees like humans,” I say. “I won’t be giving you a medal for being a decent person. Doing the bare minimum isn’t praiseworthy, it’s your obligation.”
“But—”
“Stay away from me,” I warn him.
People never change.
Miller Archer can swear he’s a changed man, but his actions tell me a different story. When we arrive, the entire family is already in the main house. We’re talking: grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, cousins, and the children. Mr. Gyles’s sister is only a couple of years older than me.
She’s beautiful. Tall, light brown hair, slim, and yet curvy.
She’s in charge of sales, and the moment Tony introduces her to Miller, she pulls him away because she has a lot of ideas.
With a big family like mine, I am used to mingling around without fraternizing and yet, looking social. When we’re called to sit at the table, I’m not sure how we’re going to fit. Except, I find they have several tables in the back of the house.
This is a party.
“Ms. Solis, come with us,” Mr. Gyles touches my elbow slightly and redirects me to the biggest table.
Miller is already sitting by Eva Gyles. They are close, chatting intimately. I’m gutted by the scene. He’s already found a way to exclude me. I wouldn’t be surprised if, by the end of the night, I’m told Blend is out of the running.
Mr. Gyles helps his wife with the chair and then he helps me. I’m right across from Miller, but he’s so busy telling jokes to Eva that he doesn’t hear when Tony Giles calls him. As a favor, I kick him on the shin.
Miller glares at me and Tony raises his glass of wine. “We’re thankful that you two were able to work things out. We believe that both companies have what we need to grow our winery.”
“This place reminds me a lot of a family farm I recently worked with,” I say. “We focused the campaign on family and nature.”
“Do you have the campaign with you?” Mr. Gyles asks.
I nod. “Yes, but you’d understand if I share the insight only with you. After all, Mr. Archer is the competition.”
“You need to trust him. He’s your partner in this project, yes?”
“Unfortunately, trusting my competition has set me back a few times.” More like, trusting this man screwed me seven ways to Sunday.
“I don’t need to be privy to the details of your old campaigns. We can work something new. If you’re willing to share…”
“The concepts I have in mind will blow your mind, Miller,” Eva says, and her voice is fucking annoying and flirty, but it’s when she caresses his face that I’m about to explode. “Tony, I don’t see why we need two firms.”
“You’re right, this might be a deal you can’t pass on, Mr. Archer,” I say. “But would you be able to balance everything long enough? A few days wouldn’t cut it.”
“At least, I’ll make sure to fix what’s wrong and would focus on my current client instead of searching for a better option. I’m loyal.”
“To yourself.”
“I don’t run at the first sign of trouble. I fight for what’s right.”
“Sometimes it’s not running away, but self-preservation. A way that will benefit everyone. Fighting isn’t always the answer. Conceding isn’t giving up but being the better person.”
Dinner is served. I feel like having the last word was important. Why does it feel like what I said didn’t matter? Maybe it is the fact that Tony only has eyes for his wife, and I’m staring at my plate, pushing the food and avoiding looking at Eva and Miller flirting.
“Is the food to your satisfaction?” Mrs. Gyles asks. “If you don’t like pasta, we can make you something else.”
“No, I ate something earlier that didn’t sit well,” I say, wiping my lips. “If you don’t mind, I’m calling it a night.”
I’m done making a fool of myself. Chasing an account that’s obviously not what I need. They want my old work, and I’m not that person anymore. My designs have changed, my ideas are different.
As I pass by the bar, I take a couple of bottles and ask the bartender to uncork them for me. This is definitely a party, or maybe we don’t know how to organize family reunions at home.
I’m sure Crystal will be happy to visit Miller and his new bride. There, he can quit 23 Media Inc and start his own fucking vineyard.
Why do I even care? I should be happy for him, shouldn’t I?
Forty-Three
Miller
Eva Gyles is an attractive woman. She’s smart too. The lady knows I have to be polite or I can lose the account.
What she didn’t know is I have my limits and a Claire. Also, I never sleep with my clients. I could’ve put a stop to her advances the moment she started them, but it was fun to watch Claire shooting imaginary daggers toward Eva and me.
I was too busy trying to look interested that I never saw Claire leaving. Tony said she was not feeling well. I hate myself for not paying enough attention to her. What if she’s sick?
When I arrive at the house, she’s sitting by the porch on one of the patio chairs. There are a few bottles of wine on top of the coffee table.
“Did you drink them all?” I ask, taking a seat on the chair next to hers.
She shrugs.
“What’s going on, Claire Bear?”
“I hate that nickname, Milo.”
“Have you told your dad?”
She smiles. “Fine, I don’t hate when he calls me that. Only when you do. But you should be having a chat with your family about all your lies, including your nickname.”
“Mine is a stupid nickname, yours is cute.”
“You worked fast with Eva. Is the account yours?”
“Nothing happened between us,” I assure her.
She laughs, takes one of the bottles, and drinks from it. “Please, she was almost sitting on top of you. If you can be anything tonight, at least be fucking honest.”
I take her bottle and drink from it. “She was groping me, that doesn’t mean I was turned on or willing to take it further. I’m a professional.”
“You’re anything but. Why didn’t you have sex with her?”
I glance at her and don’t respond. We exchange the bottle of wine until it’s empty. Then, she grabs the next one and starts it. The night is quiet, except for the few crickets that chirp occasionally. If she didn’t hate me so much, we could be hugging, watching the full moon illuminating the fields and enjoying the silence.
“So you believe me that I didn’t touch her.”
She nods. “You like to take your time. What’s that rule you have, make sure your partner enjoys it as much as you do.”
“When it comes to sex, I only have one rule.”
“Is that a new thing? Because I remember there were many.”
I nod, taking another swig of wine. Maybe I drink half the bottle because she takes it away and complains, “Hey, it’s my last bottle, don’t finish it.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” she lies.
“I thought you wanted honesty tonight.”
“Why not fuck her?”
“Once you meet the love of your life, being with anyone else is impossible. I only belong to one person.”
She bobs her head, presses her lips together, and asks with a low voice I can barely hear. “Your girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “You have to answer my question. Stop throwing new ones my way.”
“Your arrogance. That’s why I left,” she responds. “I just realized the account isn’t worth it. You can take it.”
“Honest,” I repeat.
“Would your girlfriend care that another woman touched you?
Reaching for her hand, I caress it and kiss the inside. “That title is for high schoolers. But yeah, I think my woman hated it. Didn’t you?”
She snatches her hand and protests, “I’m not yours.”
I smirk. “But you hated it, didn’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” She rises from her seat, stumbling a little.
“Claire,” I say, standing up and following behind so she doesn’t trip.
I open the door of the guesthouse and make sure she is safe before I close the door.
“I usually love my job,” she says. “Right now, I hate it because I’m in a place where the client thinks men should be in charge of everything. He wants my work but you as the lead. I don’t need a man to be on top of me. This fighting for a project that seemed like a perfect fit isn’t worth it. Maybe I made the wrong decision and London was the answer. I just missed my family so much. It felt like coming home would make everything better.”
