Page 7 of Enemies with My Brother's Billionaire Bestie

“That’s an interesting way to greet your mother, but I guess it’s better than saying, ‘You dummy,’ like last time.”

“Come on, Ma, I’ve told you a million times I was talking to one of my co-workers and had no idea I’d answered the phone,” I explain, though the incident happened over a year ago.

She laughs softly, and for a moment, I wish I could lay my head on her lap like I used to as a kid and tell her everything that’s bothering me.

“So, tell me, how does it feel to see Ollie again? Still on your hating spree?” she asks calmly.

“How long have you been waiting to ask that question?” I groan.

“Since the day I spotted her driving through town. Tell me, do you still hate each other?”

Hate. I don’t think that word is strong enough to describe the tension between us now. This new Olivia—who’s back in town—looks like she wants to kill me. While it infuriates me, it also excites me to see just how far she’ll go to prove her disdain.

“She’s a witch now, Ma, and that’s me trying to be nice,” I admit. My mother bursts into laughter. She’s having a lot of fun with this.

Until Olivia’s arrival in town, which hasn’t even been a week, my life was typically boring: revolving around my restaurant with a few business trips. When I wasn’t drinking with Daniel, I was curled up on my couch with my dog, Max. Olivia’s presence is stirring up a lot of drama and awakening the reckless teenager in me, ready for whatever games she wants to play.

My mother finally stops laughing and continues, “What if these hostile feelings you feel for each other are a lot more different than you’re both willing to admit?”

“What are you getting at now, Mom? I don’t have the energy for this. I’ve drained most of it arguing with Ollie all day.”

“Hear me out, El. I’m just saying, what if you think you hate each other, but you actually don’t?”

“I certainly don’t like her, Mom. Everyone knows that already,” I snap, not wanting to have this conversation.

“Well, someone once said, ‘Hatred can be considered the truest form of love. A love that cannot be fully expressed in any other way,’” she says softly, but I don’t know what to make of it.

Trying to end the conversation, I look for an excuse. “I’ve got to go, Ma. We’re opening soon. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright, I love you, son.”

When the line goes dead, I can’t help but think my mother is losing her mind. Yes, I might be rusty when it comes to matters of the heart, but there’s no way this is love.

Love is what Daniel has with Julia—something soft and safe. It’s everything Olivia writes about in her blog, even though I’ll never admit I’ve read every single column she’s posted, including last night’s. Love gives people butterflies, but what I feel for Olivia Reed isn’t that. It’s rage, and for the next few weeks, we’re going to be at each other’s throats. She’s playing a tune for the devil, and now I’m ready to dance to her beat.

“Is this what you truly want, Ollie?"

Chapter five

Olivia

One of us is going to end up dead, and it won’t be me, because I’ll be the one doing the killing. Elliot is a monster—worse than he was a week ago when I first arrived in town—and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out without tearing his hair out.

He’s cruel, unbearable. The argument from earlier only reinforced what I already knew: even after five years of growing up, that part of him hasn’t changed. His words were meant to wound, and as expected, they did. Sometimes I wonder how my brother still calls him a friend, and even more baffling is how Julia can like him too.

Betrayers. That’s what they both are. If they really cared about me, they’d take my side when I complain about Elliot’s attitude—or at the very least, they’d save us all the trouble by not inviting him in the first place.

I slam the fridge with so much force that the bowl of flour Julia’s holding goes airborne and spills its contents all over her brown hair. She stands there, covered in white powder like awalking snowstorm, and my eyes soften with guilt as I realize I’ve accidentally turned her into a human flour sack.

“I’m sorry, Jules. I’m just so furious,” I mutter, grabbing a kitchen towel to brush the flour off of her.

“Do I really have to suffer this because of Elliot?” she sighs, taking the towel from me. “He’s your brother’s best friend. Maybe he should be the one covered in flour right now.”

“You both brought this on me, so forgive me if trying to work with Elliot to make your wedding perfect is turning me into a madwoman,” I scoff, collapsing onto one of the kitchen stools in defeat.

Julia fetches me a glass of water from the tap and sits down beside me.

“Do you think I’m overreacting right now, Jules?” I ask, my voice calm but too ashamed to meet her eyes.

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