Page 2 of Enemies, Lovers & A Valentine's Baby

“Excuse me?” I say, taken aback by his rudeness.

“Look, lady, I’m busy, so if you have something to say to me, you need to say it now.”

Lady?

Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“You’re in the wrong seat,” I say coldly, crossing my arms in front of me.

I was going to say it to him nicely, but since he wants to be an asshole about it, we can play it his way.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re in the wrong seat. The names are literally written right there,” I say, gesturing to the name cards on the table in front of each seat.

“Who the hell are you to tell me where I can or can’t sit?” he snarls, setting down his phone and glaring up at me

“I’m the event planner, so I—”

“So, if there’s a mix-up then it’s your fault, right? Isn’t it your job to make sure everything goes smoothly? Shouldn’t seating arrangements be the bare minimum of what you should be able to get right?”

His tone is condescending.

“Apparently you are both blind and dense, because unless your name is Georgia Andrews, you have no business sitting at this table. Or did you miss the very large name card right here?” I fire back.

His eyes harden, narrowing into little slits.

“You’re not very bright yourself, are you? That’s probably why you’re working as a glorified server who still can’t do the one thing she’s paid to do—get seating arrangements right.” Disgust is written all over his face as he turns away from me.

Anger coils inside me like a tight rope.

“What did you just say to me?” I ask, my eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

“You heard me.”

His body is tense, face set in a hard expression that would’ve unnerved me if I wasn’t so furious.

“I’d like to hear you say it again,” I say, taking a step forward.

“Come on, Lila. He’s not worth it. Let’s just go,” Katie says softly from behind me, her hand nudging my shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, Lila, let it go. Scurry back to whatever little hole you crawled out of, or find someone else to bother, ‘cause I’m not the one,” he waves his hand dismissively.

I grit my teeth, unable to believe that this is really happening.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yes. But at least I’m not a glorified server parading myself as an ‘event planner.’” He adds air quotes for emphasis. “What didyou say you do here, exactly? You’re the event planner and you can’t even figure out the basic logistics of seating arrangements? You literally have one job and you screw it up. Doesn’t that make you a failure?”

I wince at his sharp words. They cut through me like knives, a dull ache starting low in my chest.

“It’s not my fault that you are too blind to see the—”

“Of course, here we go again with the half-assed excuses. If you were half as good at your job as you claim to be, then you would know that I’m supposed to be seated at this table.

I stare at him with a puzzled look on my face.

“If I’m not supposed to be in this seat, then where exactly am I supposed to be?” he says, voice full of hostility.

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