Page 44 of Hate Mate

“I would have to run it by the board, of course.”

“You can do that once the press release is approved. I won't release it until they give the okay.”

“I don't know if they will.”

“Well, maybe you should offer a public apology, after all. Like you first suggested. That way, the board will know you're serious, that you're dedicated to making things right. That could go a long way towards softening them on the idea, and on you.”

“Hold on a second.” He sits beside me—way too close for comfort, in fact, and my shoulders immediately rise up around my ears at his nearness.

At the same time, a familiar heat spreads through my core, heating my skin and tightening my nipples, making my heart race and my breathing quicken. I need to learn how to control myself at moments like this—he's just a man, a man like any other. I can handle him.

“Is there a problem with that idea?” I ask rather than focus on the telltale aching between my thighs.

“I thought you were against the idea of a public apology.”

“I was, but now that we have a better idea of how people feel—”

“So now, after everything else you've put me through, you expect me to eat crow in public. It's not enough I had to host those blowhards from the city council and basically prostrate myself in front of them?”

“For once, would you put your ego aside?”

“For once, would you stop asking me to do the impossible?” He suddenly bolts up from the couch and begins pacing in front of the window. “First you say no public apology and treat me like an asshole for even suggesting it, and now you act like it's your big idea and I should thank you for it.”

“When did I ever say you should thank me for it?”

“You're the one who didn't want to draw further attention to the video.”

“Would you please take a breath?” Even for him, this is completely startling. He's a pain in the ass, but he's usually reasonable enough not to jump to these outrageous conclusions.

“Don't tell me to take a breath,” he snarls. “I'm sick to death of being confused by you. Make up your mind, woman.”

And now I'm starting to wonder if we are actually arguing about a public apology.

“I told you at the beginning that you'd have to do everything I say, no argument.” I stand, hands on my hips, and suddenly my exhaustion fades away, replaced by outrage. “Sometimes we have to change course based on the way things are going. It was not the right move at first, but now that I have a better idea of what we're dealing with, you might need to make an apology to close the deal. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?”

“Because I'm sick to death of feeling like I have no control over this situation, damn it.”

“By all means. Take that out on me. You know, the only person who can actually help you.”

“There you go again, on your high horse.”

“Says the man willing to offer me four hundred grand to get the job done,” I fire back.

“We can end this right here and now, if you'd rather.” He folds his arms, stepping up to me while wearing his patented know-it-all smirk. “What do you think about that?”

I mimic his posture, staring him straight in the eye. “I think you're too much of a coward to say you're sorry in public, so you would rather shoot yourself in the foot by firing me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. That's exactly what I think.”

“Do you know what I think?”

Before I can tell him I don't give a fuck, he takes my face in his hands and crushes his lips against mine.

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