Love to Loathe Him: A Billionaire Office Romance
Love to Loathe Him: Chapter 27

If I thought there couldn’t be any more twists and turns over this weekend, well, I was spectacularly wrong.

I stroll down the pavement late afternoon with my backpack, thinking to have one cigarette to unwind from the chaos, when I stop dead in front of my hedge. My precious Winnie is getting railed by some mangy tomcat like a fuzzy little porn star.

“Winnie!” I screech in dismay. “What the hell are you doing?”

She doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish.

“Shoo!” I clap loudly, trying to disperse the amorous felines. “Shoo, you dirty bastard.”

Winnie meets my glare with flat eyes—the feline equivalent of sticking out her fuzzy middle toe bean at me.

“Oh hell no,” I roar. “Lizzie!”

Lizzie comes barreling outside in her pj’s and bare feet, looking like she just rolled out of bed. Which she might have. “What’s going on?”

I jab an accusatory finger at the tomcat, who seems unperturbed by our shouting match as he finishes up with Winnie.

Lizzie’s eyes go wide as she finally clocks the depraved feline show happening right there on my lawn. “What the bloody . . .”

Finally, Tom saunters off, his tail held high. Winnie just lies there in the grass, looking like she wants to light up a post-coital cigarette.

I guess I’m not really one to talk after what I did.

“I thought she was spayed?” Lizzie asks, her brows furrowed. “Aren’t they meant to, you know . . . not be total sluts?”

“She is,” I say through gritted teeth. “I thought that made them less horny.”

Like owner, like cat, I suppose.

Winnie sashays past me into the flat.

“So? How was it?” Lizzie asks as we head inside.

I glance around at the surprisingly tidy living room, momentarily distracted. “You cleaned up?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she huffs. “I do know which end of a broom to hold, you know. I’m not completely useless.”

I give the room a once-over. It’s not up to my neurotic standards—there’s a bra peeking out from under the sofa cushions, for starters—but I can see she put in real effort. “It looks good, Lizzie. I’m impressed.”

And then I freeze. My eyes land on what can only be described as an architectural nightmare dominating the window space. It’s got turrets. And a drawbridge. The bloody thing looks like a mini version of the Taj Mahal. “Um, Lizzie, what’s that?”

She beams at me. “It’s a present for Winnie. It’s a cat palace. I’ve been researching some fun things for cats and this one was super recommended. Isn’t it amazing?”

Bloody hell. That thing takes up most of the mat and is the first thing you see in the lounge.

“It’s . . . fun,” I manage, trying to keep the horror out of my voice. “That’s great.”

Lizzie looks so proud of herself I don’t have the heart to tell the truth. Maybe I can accidentally set it on fire later.

Winnie walks straight past the cat palace to the sofa, giving it a scowl. That’s my girl.

“And I made banana bread,” Lizzie announces, puffing out her chest like she just won the Great British Bake Off. “I’m really finding my domestic goddess these days. Soooo, spill the tea.”

I don’t even bother taking my shoes off or dropping my bag before the tea is pouring out of me. “I shagged Liam McLaren last night.”

There it is. Out in the open.

Lizzie’s mouth hangs open. “Noooo.”

“Yes.”

“Nooo!” she says louder. The commotion makes Winnie scurry off, no doubt to go lick herself clean of her outdoor sexcapades.

“Is it that unbelievable?” I huff.

She blinks at me.

Obviously, it is.

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, eyes bulging out of her head. “Details, woman. I need every sordid detail this instant.”

With a dramatic sigh, I flop backward onto the couch, emitting a pathetic whimper. Lizzie doesn’t let up until she’s wrung every scandalous bit out of me.

I lean in close, lowering my voice to a whisper for the juiciest revelation. “I . . . squirted.”

“You what now?”

“I squirted,” I hiss again, feeling my face flame up. “You know . . .”

“You mean you . . . ?” Lizzie mimics a crude fountain gesture with her hand.

“Yes,” I say in an embarrassed whisper. “It was like Niagara Falls down there. I’m surprised we didn’t capsize the bloody boat.”

“Wow. Why are you whispering?”

“I’m scared to admit it too loudly, okay? Have you ever?”

“I don’t think so.” She frowns. “Is it like when cats spray? You know, that whole territorial scent-marking thingy?”

I goggle at her in disbelief. “What? No. Oh my god, Lizzie, why would you even go there? That’s revolting. I’m not trying to mark my territory on Liam bloody McLaren.”

“Sorry, it’s just after catching Winnie getting her rocks off and then your own juicy revelation, it’s all just rolling into one big, debauched scenario in my mind.”

I shake my head at her.

“Is he a grower or a shower?” she asks.

I smirk. “What do you call it when you can see it from satellites?”

She lets out a low whistle. “Lucky girl. McLaren must be really experienced too.”

“No doubt. It was . . .” I pause, my cheeks heating with the memory. “Quite literally the hottest sex of my entire life. But also potentially a career-imploding mistake.”

“The hottest sex of your life has to have some repercussions.” Lizzie nods sagely. “Otherwise, it’s just good sex. If the stakes aren’t high, the sex ain’t hot.”

I can’t help but let out an undignified snort at her profound wisdom. “Fair point, well made. So what do I do now? Avoid him forever? Quit and join the ex-marketing manager in the Himalayas?”

“Neither. You act like it never even happened. Be aloof, stoic, the pinnacle of professionalism. Like you don’t even know—let alone have intimate familiarity with—what his penis looks like.” She smirks, proud of herself. “Just channel your inner ice queen, Gem. I can give you some acting tips if you want. We could even role-play a few scenes.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I laugh.

Lizzie’s right, though. I need to act unfazed about Liam McLaren. I have to be careful here. I don’t know what he’s capable of. I’ve seen him be ruthless in the office, and his PA has hinted at how cold he can be to women once he’s done with them.

One wrong move could blow up in my face spectacularly.

And wrong moves are much easier to make than I thought, as I discover at work the next day.

“Gemma.”

Liam’s authoritative tone cuts through the conference room like a whip crack, making me jump. I’m huddled with the rest of my HR team going over this week’s agenda when he appears in the doorway. “See me in my office after your meeting.”

The set of that jaw tells me he’s furious about something.

But Liam never disrespects his senior staff by dressing them down in front of their own teams. Not out of any sense of kindness or decorum, though. The man simply understands that undermining us is a surefire way to breed insurrection among the ranks.

“No problem,” I reply, keeping my own tone coolly professional.

But for the rest of the meeting, I can’t deny the flutters of dread swirling in my stomach.

As soon as I dismiss the team, I square my shoulders and stride toward Liam’s office. I’m wearing my best power outfit—the tailored dress I reserve for big interviews and generally wielding my influence. My hair is styled to perfection.

I look every inch the unflappable boss bitch. At least, that’s what I’m desperately trying to sell.

I rap firmly on his door.

“Come in,” he barks. Yup, banker Liam is back.

I slip inside, closing the door. “You wanted to see me?”

Those blazing eyes meet mine from behind his oversized desk, and I swear, I can feel the heat of his glare singeing my eyelashes. “Kim Hye-jin pulled out to go to Vertex.”

So that’s what this little pow-wow is about. The man who made me squirt on Saturday night is now chewing me out about people pulling out of our recruitment process. Never mind that I already sent him this information this morning.

And I’m gutted about it. I don’t understand what happened.

“That’s right,” I confirm. “We added everything she asked for into our revised offer. But in the end, she still chose Vertex, in the final stages of negotiation.”

Liam’s lip curls back in a sneer. “And why the hell is that, exactly?”

I swallow hard against the lump of indignant rage blocking my throat. “Vertex came in with a better offer. But I don’t understand how they even knew she was interested in relocating.”

I hand-picked Kim Hye-jin, amongst others, after doing a lot of research. It’s just too coincidental. “She’s being cagey but I’m determined to get more feedback.”

“That isn’t good enough,” he growls, his Yorkshire accent thickening. “That’s the most wishy-washy excuse for an answer I’ve ever heard.”

My face flames as he reprimands me like a misbehaving child. The audacity of this prick, speaking to me like that. Hell no.

“I can’t force people to join us against their will,” I bite out. “The final choice is ultimately up to them.”

He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “Did you offer the top relocation package and rent for the first year?”

“Yes.”

“And the company shares?”

“Liam, I offered everything we talked about. And when she started to withdraw, I doubled down and offered even more. It wasn’t enough. I built a great relationship with this lady. She was really apologetic this morning but ultimately, Vertex has poached her from right under our noses.”

He leans back in his fancy leather chair, regarding me. “So this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to send me every last communication—emails, calls, meetings, all of it—that your team had with the three candidates who pulled out. Right to my personal inbox. I’m going to see for myself what went wrong here.”

“Don’t micromanage me,” I hear myself snarl before I can bite it back. He wants the damn truth? Fine. “I did my job thoroughly and entirely by the book, Liam. If you have issues with my handling or my process, then we can discuss that like the professionals we’re supposed to be. But not with you undermining my every move as though I’m some incompetent intern.”

Liam’s eyes narrow into slits. A muscle ticks in that sharp jaw. “Something went wrong in this situation. And sometimes the only way to get to the bottom of these fuckups is by dissecting them in detail myself.”

“Here’s some more truths for you, Liam. That’s a terrible style of management. I will review the situation myself and come to my own conclusions on precisely why she didn’t accept our offer in the end.” I hold his gaze. “Then, as the head of HR for this firm, I will report back to you with my analysis and a plan of action.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Liam says nothing. Then, finally, the tiniest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Very well. Have the files on my desk before you leave tonight.”

“Fine.” I could not have clipped the word any more if I tried.

He nods, just a slight tilt of his chin, before his desk phone starts blaring. “That’ll be all then.”

My face flames scarlet, the dismissal stinging like a slap to the face.

You bastard, I think, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

The urge to tell him to go fuck himself is overwhelming.

Because after Saturday night, after the way he touched me, the way he made me feel . . . I can’t even look at him without feeling a confusing mix of rage and longing.

Because I’m only human. And I have to remember that he is likely a sociopath. He doesn’t care about whether he offends me. He cares about his business and his basic human need to want to fuck, it seems, nothing more.

But I know what this man looks like when he comes. I know what he looks like lying asleep. At his most vulnerable. And I can’t flip between both versions of the man so easily, can’t reconcile the man who makes my body feel ecstasy with the one who cuts me down so easily.

I storm out of there, my heart pounding with a mix of rage and something else—something more pathetic. Something that makes me feel weak and foolish.

I hate him. But even worse, I realize with a sickening jolt . . . I hate myself for still craving his approval, even after all this.

I get into the lift at lunchtime with my assistant, Mary. And by lunchtime, I mean that precious two-minute window where I tear myself away from my desk to grab a sad little sandwich from the café before scurrying back to my office.

Then I have to somehow sort out this messy love triangle situation between Emily in Marketing, Daniel, and Michelle, his other side piece from Accounting. Not to mention figuring out why everyone is suddenly declining our offers in favor of jumping ship to Vertex.

After Emily’s stint in the HR clinic, from what I can gauge she’s been acting unprofessionally to Daniel in the office, who has now demanded she be demoted citing that she’s a professional liability who can’t meet performance standards.

Just another shining example of my colleagues being unable to keep it in their pants at the office.

But who am I to talk?

Just as the doors are about to close, a hand shoots out, forcing them back open. Liam.

My heart does a dance in my chest as he settles in beside me, giving me a nod.

One of the executive board members, Rubert, squeezes in too, because apparently this lift is the place to be today.

“Liam,” Rubert booms, his voice entirely too loud for enclosed spaces. “I haven’t seen you all day. How did the sailing trip go? I heard it was quite the adventure.”

I tense up like I’ve been tasered. As if everyone knows what happened between Liam and me on that boat. As if Rubert’s only asking because he’s privy to the sordid details of our little tryst.

“It was eventful,” Liam says evenly, his expression giving nothing away. “We didn’t win but it proved a worthwhile networking opportunity nevertheless.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you were neck and neck with Alastair right up until the final stretch!” Rubert continues. “Must have been quite the physical challenge, eh?”

A muscle ticks slightly in Liam’s jawline. “We certainly didn’t hold anything back,” he agrees, his voice low and smooth.

I feel my face flush even hotter. Didn’t hold anything back indeed.

“And what about you, Gemma?” Rubert asks, turning his attention to me. “Did you enjoy the experience? I’m sure it was quite the ride.”

I cough slightly, and Liam lifts a brow. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this. It’s not like Rubert is asking if I enjoyed getting railed by Liam McLaren in front of Liam McLaren.

But damn if it doesn’t feel that way.

I try to compose myself, but it’s hard when vivid flashbacks of me straddling Liam assault my brain.

“It was . . . good.” The struggle to maintain a politely bland expression is very real. “An educational opportunity overall, though not necessarily one I plan to repeat any time soon.”

Liam’s eyes narrow. “Educational,” he repeats, his tone neutral. “That’s one word for it.”

He clearly doesn’t like my choice of phrasing, and a petty, immature part of me feels a thrill of victory. Take that, you emotionally constipated bastard. After the way he verbally eviscerated me earlier, I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at getting under his skin.

I turn away from him, plastering on a smile for Mary.

The thing is, Liam isn’t even acting weird after our nautical nookie session. It’s like it didn’t rattle him at all. And maybe that’s what annoys me the most, because I’m finding it difficult to do the same.

When I glance up, I catch Liam watching me through the elevator reflection.

Thankfully, the elevator chooses that moment to finally reach the ground floor, dinging cheerfully as the doors slide open. I stride out as relaxed as I can.

It’s not even the end of my first day back in the office following the squirty sailing debacle, and I’m already a rambling mess around Liam. Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m going to be able to maintain this whole unaffected ice queen facade.