Page 61 of Rivals Next Door

He snorted, and I grinned.

22

OLIVIA

I rolled my eyes at Alex as he held up his glass and said, “To your success… short-lived though it might be.”

“Why can’t you just admit defeat?” I threw back my shot and shuddered as the liquid burned its way down my throat. “It’s okay to say you got your ass beat by a girl.”

He slammed his glass down. “Hey, I don’t have a misogynist bone in my body. Every woman I’ve encountered in the business world is a badass, and they all have my respect. I’m merely trying to drive home that you shouldn’t get comfortable on your high horse yet. You just never know, Liv…”

“Are you threatening me, Alex?”

“I don’t make threats. Threats aren’t necessarily followed through. I always follow through. If I say I’m going to get something… I’ll get it.”

We were side by side at the bar in the same restaurant we’d run into each other a couple of nights ago. After his comment, I turned to look at him. We had one of those stare downs where there was a hint of animosity but also a heavy dose of sexual tension. It was all so confusing. I’d never had the hots for anyone I was supposed to consider my enemy.

“Well, maybe my company is the one thing you won’t get,” I said. “I do appreciate your tenacity though. You were a worthy opponent.”

A slow smile curled his lips, and his eyes twinkled with amusement, which surprised me. He didn’t address my declaration about him never getting his hands on BioTech. Instead, he said, “And you’ve turned out to be a formidable adversary… much respect.”

I raised my eyebrows, not sure how to respond to that. I wish we hadn’t become opponents to begin with. “A compliment from Alex Knight. I didn’t expect that.”

He chuckled. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

I rolled my eyes, and we went on to have a few more shots as we engaged in trivial chatter. The energy was surprisingly calm and easy between us. We avoided all subjects of our past and business, and I was having a nice time. It wasn’t often I went out and shot the shit with anyone other than Elena.

Finally, a waiter approached us with news of a free table. As I slid off my barstool, I smirked at Alex. “I’m surprised your pal Jessica didn’t come over with the news of an available table.” I glanced at the blonde who had shamelessly thrown herself at him the other night. This evening, she was sending him dirty looks. “Trouble in paradise?”

Alex scowled as we walked side-by-side, following the waiter to our table. “I don’t even know the woman, for heaven's sake. Not many take too kindly to rejection, I suppose.”

“Why did you turn her down? From what I’ve read, it seems you don’t turn any woman down.”

Alex scoffed and turned to me with a look of outrage. However, he saw my teasing smirk and laughed. “Taking shots at my man-trollop status… nice, Liv.”

“You call yourself a man-trollop?” I sniggered.

“Hey, you know me. I own my shit.”

Shaking my head, I tried to suppress my smile, but it came through anyway. “You know, I can go over there and tell Jessica you’re not a complete asshole. Maybe you’ll still have a chance.”

“Really? So you’ve gone from being my girlfriend to my wingman?”

“I think exes make the best wingmen.”

“How about we drop this entire awkward topic so you can buy me that dinner you promised?”

I folded my lips as he scowled at me but pulled out my chair like a true gentleman. The truth was, I engaged in banter with him about another woman to hide the fact that if he went home with her for real, I’d tear my freaking hair out. I tamped down my jealousy because I had no right to be. We might never be romantic partners again, but after this evening, I was more convinced that Alex and I could get along just fine.

“This doesn’t seem like a great spot for a bachelor party!” I shouted to Alex over the ear-splitting music.

After drinks and dinner, I found myself touring Manhattan with him, scoping out spots for his friend's bachelor party. It was a strange thing for exes-now-business-rivals to do together, but crazier things have happened…

“Of course, you’d say that!” he shouted back.

I tore my gaze away from the many gyrating bodies downstairs on the dancefloor to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve never liked places like this. You don’t know how to let your hair down,” he replied with a chuckle. He glanced at his empty glass and then back at our table. “Hang tight, I’m going to get us another bottle of champagne.”

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