Page 19 of Hate Mate

WILLOW

Are there trumpets blaring as I leave his office, or are they only in my head? It takes every scrap of my self-control not to look over my shoulder and savor more of his open-mouthed horror, but somehow I manage.

Now I know one thing for sure, he doesn't remember me. Then again, why would he? I don't look much like I did back then.

A fact which he certainly seemed to enjoy. It's almost enough to make bile rise in my throat, the memory of how he pretty much ogled me when I first walked into the room. Sure, now that I've lost weight and have the money to afford better clothes and a good haircut, I'm worth paying attention to. And worth noticing, worth being kind to.

And of course, I can help him get away with this before Daddy finds out. I knew his father had to be at the heart of everything. He can't disappoint Daddy. What a child.

Maybe now he'll think twice before he shoots his mouth off. Telling me he doesn’t really look down on the people living in town. I’m surprised I was able to keep a straight face. Sarah will be proud.

Though I might forget to mention the part where I told him to fuck off. And maybe where I said I’d rather eat glass.

“Come on, come on,” I whisper, jamming my finger against the elevator button a second time. The damn thing is so slow. It's going to ruin my moment of triumph. What's the good of getting the last word in if you give your opponent enough time to recover and come up with a crushing response?

“Ms. Anderson!”

Shoot!My eyes dart around as panic blooms in my chest. I was so close to getting away. I don't have the first idea where the stairwell is, or else I'd be running down to the ground floor right this very second.

His heavy tread rings in my ears and the elevator is still nowhere near arriving, so there's nothing left to do but lift my chin and face him as he storms out of his office. Even now, I can't help but admit to myself what an impressive image he creates, his muscular body perfectly encased in a gorgeous, tailored suit that fits him like a glove.

“Exactly what the hell is going on?” he demands when he finds me standing in the hall. “Here I was, thinking you were a professional, when you're anything but.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you,” I mutter. “Though considering the fact it was you who got caught shooting his mouth off in his place of business, I’d say the pot’s calling the kettle black.”

He comes to a stop a few feet away from me, folding his arms before looking me up and down. He's not checking me out anymore, not the way he was before. Maybe he finally realizes I'm more than a pair of boobs attached to a body.

“What have I done to offend you?”

“Who says you did anything?”

“Give it a break,” he retorts. “You don't tell somebody you'd rather eat glass than work with them if there's not something personal underneath it. So what is it? What did I do to deserve that? I came to you in good faith, assured you were the best. I answered your questions, as rude as they were. What else do you want from me?”

This is too delicious. Now I wish Sarah had come with me so she could watch him fall to pieces, and all because somebody told him no. “You aren't used to being refused, are you?” I ask, tipping my head to the side. His cheeks go dark, telling me I hit a nerve.

“There you go again,” he growls, and the sound is enough to make the hair on the back of my neck rise. “Getting personal. Why don't you do me a favor and clue me in? Say what you want about me, but I at least like to know my opponent. And right now, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“You really don't remember me?” I whisper, grinning. “Honestly? I don't ring a bell at all?”

His head snaps back, his eyes going narrow, and there's practically smoke coming out of his ears as he tries to figure it out. I have nowhere better to be, so I wait, still grinning while he struggles.

Finally, he throws his hands into the air. “No. I don't remember you.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes softly and the doors slide apart. I step inside the car, turning to face him while pushing the button for the ground floor. “Think about it.” The doors slide shut, separating us.

And now I can sigh in relief, my muscles loosening, my heart racing. Only now it's racing from joy, victory. I did it. I finally did it. Maybe he'll never put two and two together, but I will know I made him pay for all the indignities he put me through, for the cruelty I never did anything to deserve. All it took was my existence for him to torment me.

Now the shoe is on the other foot, and I have to bite my lip to hold back a giggle of sheer giddy relief. The theme from the Rocky movies rings out in my head, and I can't wait to tell Sarah every last detail of how I finally humiliated Sawyer Cargill. I might have to jump up and down with my fists in the air while I do so.

I can imagine every fist pump—that is, until the doors open and I come face to face with him once again. Only this time, he's out of breath. “You're not getting away from me that easy,” he pants. Did he run down the stairs? He really is desperate.

“I have no time for this,” I inform him with a shrug. “My answer was final. Now if you will excuse me...” I try to step around him on exiting the elevator, but he's too damn stubborn to let me get by.

“I have no idea who you are,” he insists, placing his body between me and the door. “But you must hate me if you came all the way out here just to say no. Why? What did I ever do to you? What could be worth it?”

“You want to know why I would come all this way just to turn you down?” I mimic his posture, folding my arms and wishing I were just a little taller. Even in four-inch heels, he's got half a foot on me. I’d rather not have to look up to him.

“I think that's the least you can tell me after your rudeness.”

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