Page 49 of The CEO I Hate

And then I saw it.

Oh, God, no.

Miles. There wereMilesshirts. Someone had stenciled his smug face onto a hoodie and added glitter around the eyes.

I scowled.

Apparently, that was the worst possible decision.

“Oh. My. GOD! Are you Miles? You’re totally Miles!” a voice screeched.

My eyebrows must have hit my hairline as a phone was shoved in my face and a teenage girl wearing chunky friendship bracelets that read I LOVE MILES shrieked, “Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Uh…” I looked around for an escape hatch. My gaze darted to Mia, looking for help. I’d stumbled into a lion’s den as the cluster of fangirls surrounded me. Mia’s eyes widened in surprise, then shifted into something dangerous, a smirk curling up the side of her face.

“You totally have the same scowl!” another girl gasped. “Aww!”

“Oh my God, he totally does! It’s the eyebrows!”

Someone touched my arm. I jumped. I may have squeaked.

I had to get the hell out of here before they ate me alive. Camera apps clicked in every direction I turned. Mia, the traitor, cupped her hands around her mouth.

“If you make a line, he’ll promise to scowl for each of you!”

I stared at her, horrified.

She winked.

“Oh, no he won’t,” I said, already looking for a way out. I was going to kill her. Or myself. Whichever was faster. But then I looked at them. They were practically vibrating with excitement, throwing up peace signs and kissy faces, and it was all very,veryhorrible.

But they were just soexcitedto be there and so enthusiastic about Mia’s work that disappointing them would have felt like kicking a puppy. An extremely obnoxious puppy with a selfie stick.

This was definitely one of Dante’s nine circles of hell. I’d take rolling a boulder up a hill any day to avoid a roving pack of fangirls with cameras.

I frowned at Mia, and she shrugged. “Just embrace it.”

If God was merciful, he’d smite me now. Mia was laughing so hard at her table she was wiping tears from her eyes.

“It’s not funny,” I snapped at her.

The fangirls only squealed more.

“He really likes when you call him Smiles,” Mia called.

Okay, that was the last damn straw! I snatched a pen out of a hand and started scribbling my name on all the books shoved in my face. “Selfie for you,” I said, scowling at a phone. “Next. And for you. Next!”

The only way to get through this was to take the damn pictures and sign the damn comics so these girls would finallyleave, so that’s what I was going to do. “Okay, that’s enough,” I said to a girl who’d already gotten her picture and signature from me and her autograph from Mia. “Go away.”

She beamed at her friend. “He told me to go away! Just like Miles!”

Was it too much to hope a meteor crashed through the ceiling? I whipped through the pictures as fast as I could, but every time I looked up, the line seemed even longer, people finishing with Mia and then immediately coming to see me.

I glanced down at the T-shirt someone had shoved in my hand with a picture of Miles scowling. A dialogue box read: “Don’t talk to me.”

“Ugh,” I said, signing it and handing it back. This was some sort of lesson in karma. Don’t follow women around fandom conventions because they trick you into participating in their signings.

I glanced over at Mia again, and the frustration in my chest eased a tiny bit. She was beaming so hard, obviously elated by the fan reactions, that my mood lightened in spite of myself.

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