Office Hate: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 4

  He stomped out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

  I was almost afraid to go over to the counter, but after seeing Mark’s horrified face, I decided that I needed to appear calm and in control, not freaking the hell out that I was going to be sleeping next to him every night and working with him every day.

  I had self-control.

  Hah, my body has probably already forgotten what he tastes like.

  I gulped.

  My brain did a little chant, oh, I know, I know! As if it was raising its hand then shouting out for my hormones to hear, Hot whiskey and spice!

  I made a face.

  Mark backed up like I was seconds away from announcing that I would eat my own young, hands up in surrender.

  Good, I was scaring the villain away.

  I grabbed the key on top of one of the packets and shoved it into my Michael Kors purse that I still had draped across my body. Then I reached for the packet.

  It was pretty heavy.

  Huh.

  “What’s it say?” Mark asked.

  “You can read,” I mumbled, then looked up. “Or can’t you?”

  He gave me the finger then grabbed the other packet.

  It didn’t seem that terrifying, just a welcoming note from Max himself, a thank you for being part of the company.

  And then I turned the page.

  Mark’s curse matched my gasp as we both stared at page two.

  “No. Way.” I hissed. “We have to test each apartment and room for maximum comfort and hospitality and offer suggestions after each evening? Wait, couch comfort? How is this not a sexual harassment lawsuit, and I’m sure as hell not testing the couch for make-out potential!”

  “It’s a prank,” Mark announced. “It has to be.”

  “Um…” I kept reading. “We have to test out a total of three penthouse apartments that are meant for rich single clientele, including bedrooms. There’s a freaking checklist!”

  “Well, that’s convenient,” Mark said. “Look, we’re adults, it’s fine. I mean, I can understand him being anal about this, all things considered. He wants potential buyers to feel at home while still in luxury.”

  “Well…” I sighed, looking around. “I don’t care how much money you have, this feels like a museum. They need more warmth.”

  “I thought so too,” he said almost absentmindedly.

  And then both of our eyes locked. “That was my suggestion.”

  “Mine too.”

  “Am I going to need to cover my suggestion boxes to keep you from looking over my shoulder and cheating?”

  “I haven’t cheated a day in my life,” he sneered. “Not gonna start now.”

  I tapped the packet against my thigh and cleared my throat. “Not even on a girlfriend?”

  “Never,” he rasped.

  “Oh.” I licked my lips.

  His eyes fell to my mouth, then back up.

  My body swayed a bit.

  And then the doorbell sounded, causing me to jump. I quickly walked over and opened it, thankful that it was a delivery guy with food that smelled like heaven. He looked vaguely familiar, and then it hit me when Mark suddenly spoke.

  “Damon?” Mark asked. “Is that you?”

  Damon had gone to college with us. I’d had a few classes with him, but he’d hung out with Mark’s group a lot.

  Basically, he knew the hatred between us as well as anyone who hung out with Mark. Damn it.

  Damon peered around me, eyes huge. “Mark? What the hell man, you live here?”

  “Sort of?” he answered, then sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  Damon looked back at me and grinned. “Ah, I see, complicated.”

  “No, no, no.” I held up my hands.

  “Relax.” Damon shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a bit of cohabitation in a sick penthouse with enemy number one. Enjoy your takeout. And Mark?” He did that chin jerk thing guys did when they’d hit their limit on words and maturity for the day. “We should hang soon.”

  “Sure.” Mark mimicked the movement back.

  Men.

  “See ya.” Damon took one last look, grin wide, then walked back down the hall. I closed the door and slump-walked my way back to the kitchen. “At least they’re feeding us.”

  “Yeah, and now Damon’s going to tell every mutual friend we have that we’re living together. Fantastic.”

  “Sorry, it’s so horrifying to you.” My stomach grumbled as I reached inside the bag and started pulling out all the cartons. Ah, Chinese food. “We should at least attempt to get through the rest of the packet and get along. Pretty sure blood isn’t going to come out of those white couches.”

  “Who has white couches?”

  I snorted. “Rich people who don’t sit on them?”

  “Probably true.” He relaxed, grabbed the cartons, and moved them over to the table in front of one couch, spreading everything out like a feast then coming back for his packet.

  I had no choice but to follow.

  We ate in relative silence. I chose to eat first then look at the rest of the packet.

  Mark, however, chose multi-tasking.

  Surprising, but whatever.

  He turned to the next page then started to choke.

  I slapped him on the back, smack, smack, smack. He finally stopped coughing, eyes watery as he rasped up at me, “I’d say thanks, but I think you left a bruise.”

  “I saved your life.”

  “Sure.” He cleared his throat. “That’s what I was thinking when my ribs were puncturing my spleen—life-saving strategy, party of one.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What has your panties in a twist?”

  “Remember that part of the intern questionnaire where they asked your preference of pet?”

  I frowned. “Yeah, so? It was probably one of those personality tests like questions that check compatibility.”

  “Or not.” He flashed me the page.

  “We both chose gecko?”

  “We both chose gecko,” he confirmed. “It’s one of our first tasks, keep the boss’s pet gecko alive overnight, which at first look doesn’t seem so hard, but he wants us to take shifts.”

  “Does the gecko actually mean human infant?”

  “No, if you read here, he wants us sleep-deprived for our first mission, whatever that is.”

  “Well, that’s rude, and say what? Mission?”

  “We have five,” he announced. “And after each mission a test of sorts, we won’t know ahead of time what the test is or when it is, just that once we complete the mission, it will happen.”

  “What the hell kind of office hunger games is this?” I murmured to myself as I started reading over the rest of the vague packet. “I mean, is there anything for us to study? Anything at all?”

  The doorbell rang again.

  Mark froze and whispered. “It’s like The Bachelor date boxes, but a more horrifying version.”

  “You watch The Bachelor?” I joked.

  “My mom watches The Bachelor, and I’m a good son. I’m also a heavy pourer when it comes to wine, and she appreciates that certain skill set when it’s Rose week.” He winked.

  He was close to his mom?

  My heart did a little flutter before my brain stomped on its parade, reminding me that we would be dumb to let that affect this competition.

  Very dumb indeed.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Shit,” Mark hissed as he slowly stood.

  Damn, had his thighs always been that buff? Like a trunk of a tree, made for climbing and grabbing onto—and crap, I was doing it again, wasn’t I?

  I refused to watch his ass as he sauntered way too sexily toward the door and jerked it open.

  Nobody was there, but a small black tank sat on the floor next to a giant black bedazzled bag that said “Little G.”

  “Is that his—”

  “Name? I’m afraid so, but why is the bag bedazzled if he’s a boy?”

  “Maybe he likes sparkles?
”

  “Yes, let’s just ask him, shall we?” Mark grabbed the tank, then his bag, and closed the door.

  I got up and grinned as I peered in at the lizard, which was a pale tan covered with darker spots. He had a long body with chunky legs and a fat tail. “He’s super cute. Hi, little guy.”

  Little G opened his mouth as if to yawn then looked away.

  “Huh,” Mark peered into the tank. “He seems pretty chill.”

  “I know, right? Why would we need to stay up all night with a freaking gecko?”

  “I don’t know.” He set the tank down at the sink then peered in the bag. “What the hell?”

  Slowly he started pulling out colored ping pong balls, some weird gecko food, a blanket that smelled like a barn animal died in it, a dog chew toy, and then several containers of living, writhing mealworms making me gag.

  Finally, he pulled out a small journal. “Little G’s schedule,” Mark announced. “At exactly six p.m. he needs to stretch his legs to accommodate the length of them. Please attach the long leash to Little G’s collar and only walk around the kitchen. When he gets tired, feed him a worm. Repeat this process every hour on the hour.”

  “I’m calling bullshit.” I narrowed my eyes at the journal. “Geckos don’t need walks!”

  “This one apparently does.” Mark sighed. “And technically, this is our task for the night. Well, that and giving feedback on the apartment, living room, and kitchen.”

  My marketing mind was already churning, but then the gecko made a weird and scary screeching-hissing noise like a miniature Jurassic Park dinosaur. I let out a little scream as the bag dropped to the floor.

  I knelt to pick it up and was greeted by a lovely cockroach bigger than my finger.

  Shrieking, I jumped into the air and directly against Mark’s hard body.

  “Oomph.” He stumbled back. “It’s just a bug!”

  “It’s a cockroach!”

  “So put it back in the container; it’s probably part of Little G’s food!”

  “He’ll choke on it!” I turned, still in Mark’s arms. “We’ll have to cut it up into tiny pieces. Not it.”

  “He’s not going to choke—” He eyed the stationary bug. “Well, I mean, we can’t kill little G by accident. Shit, if we cut it, do we cut it in half or like in thirds?”

  “I think thirds?” I whispered, my focus completely on the fact that Mark’s hands were holding me against him and that I could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

  With a sigh, he shifted his gaze downward at our touching bodies, then very quickly set me on my feet and moved to grab the cockroach. The minute he got close, though, it made a beeline for my feet. I screamed again, stomped, and then heard a crunch beneath my shoe.

  “Well,” Mark said with a sigh. “Guess we won’t have to cut it; we’ll just scrape his insides off your outsides and be in business.”

  “Ewwwwwwwwwww.” I held up my foot. “I killed his food!”

  “Good job, you’re a natural hunter.” Mark winked.

  I made a strangled noise. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me wave the white flag of partnership and get the cockroach guts off my Vans?”

  “Not a chance in hell, but I will video it and post it to TikTok.” He smiled.

  “My hero.”

  “I try.” He put his hand across his chest. “I’ll get a knife and help you dump it in his tank. “You want first shift or second?”

  “Second, I think.”

  “Cool, let’s get him fed and then find some blankets and pillows so we can start our campout in the living room.”

  “Great.” With a disgusted face, I grabbed the knife from Mark and managed to get some cockroach guts off my person and into Little G’s tank.

  He started chomping away immediately.

  “Aw, he likes it.”

  “He’s got an appetite.” Mark lowered his head to watch.

  I did the same.

  And then complete silence fell as we watched Little G eat, only to lock eyes through the damn tank for an uncomfortable amount of time.

  He stared.

  I stared.

  Then Little G looked between the both of us as if to say, “Yo, it’s getting weird, and I’m feeling the tension, and you’re ruining my dinner.”

  I jerked back and walked down the hall.

  Needing space between Mark and me if I was going to survive.

  I heard his footsteps softly following.

  I tried a few doors, then finally found one that was open. And thank God it was a closet with pillows, sheets, and blankets.

  I stood up on tiptoes to reach for them, when in a classic guy move, Mark reached above me and grabbed him, his front grazing my back and my back dying a slow death wishing that move was longer than three point seven seconds.

  Not that I counted.

  That would be weird.

  Right?

  I cleared my throat. “Thanks.”

  “I can be nice.”

  “You just choose to be mean.” I snorted.

  “No.”

  I could feel the heat from his chest.

  “I just choose to protect myself from girls who like to break hearts and stomp all over them.”

  I gasped and turned. “I’m not like that!”

  He shrugged. “Okay, sure.”

  “I’m not!” I called after him.

  “Cody, Jayden, Sawyer, Brad, and Dylan,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Just in case you needed a reminder of the guys you dated in college and ruined.”

  “Well, that’s…rude.” I sniffed then stood there awkwardly, wondering how he knew every single guy I dated by name.

  And why?

  Chapter Seven

  Mark

  I couldn’t fucking believe that I went from working at a used car dealership, getting fired, having sex with my enemy, to gecko sitting.

  If I could even call it that.

  The damn gecko even knew it was time for his walks when I put the minuscule leash around his collar; he even lifted his head like he could understand me.

  At first, it freaked me out.

  And then I realized he was a good listener, plus I was delirious from being up all night, and Olivia’s shift didn’t start for another hour.

  I glanced at her sleeping form on the far couch. The blue fuzzy blanket had fallen partially off her body, exposing smooth legs that days ago had been wrapped around me.

  I shuddered. Why the hell did the best sex of my life have to be with her of all people?

  Maybe she saw me as a player, and maybe I was, but so was she. I just refused to get into serious relationships. Meanwhile, according to Ryker, that was all she did, and every single one ended in heartbreak. Ryker did the recon and asked Amelia when I texted him to let him know that I would be living with my greatest and hottest enemy.

  Damn, was it weird that sometimes I just wanted her to slap me?

  Kinky.

  I could be into that.

  I looked down at Little G. “You ever have girl problems, little bro?”

  The Gecko’s mouth opened.

  “Oh yeah? I bet you have all the ladies falling for your cuteness…it’s just…she’s just so…” I sighed. “She’s…annoyingly perfect and pretty and… hateful. She’s hateful, she looks down at any person who’s not at her level, and it’s annoying as hell.”

  Little G yawned. “Me too, little buddy.”

  I leaned down and took off his leash, then tossed it onto the counter. “All right man, let’s get you back into your—”

  I stopped breathing.

  “Little G?” I hissed. “Come out right now!”

  How was he that fast?

  It was like he just disappeared!

  “Little G!” I said more forcefully this time, pulling my cell from my pocket and turning on the flashlight as I searched the kitchen and hallway.

  I got on my hands and knees and looked under both couches, then realized I needed more help and the lights on if I
had any hope of finding him.

  “Olivia.” I tapped her shoulder. “Wake up.”

  “Mmmmm.” She grabbed my hand and pulled. “That’s nice.”

  Goosebumps erupted along my spine. “Olivia, be serious; I need your help.”

  “I’ll help you, baby…” She tugged me harder, and I was seriously wondering if one more night with her and a dead gecko would be worth the risk when her eyes fluttered open, and she shoved me away. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I was trying to wake you up. You were trying to seduce my hand.”

  “Was not!” Her cheeks blushed bright red.

  “Um, yeah and you called me baby.”

  “I was talking about…my, my nephew! He’s five months.”

  “Sure, hope you don’t talk to your nephew like that, Olivia.” I rolled my eyes. “But we have a problem.”

  She stretched her arms over her head, making her breasts swell beneath her tank.

  My eyes were glued to her chest. “Mark? Up here.”

  “Yup, sorry was, um saw, like a…fuzzy.”

  “Good one,” she deadpanned. “Now, what’s the problem?”

  “I can’t find Little G any—” I froze. “—Olivia, don’t move!”

  Her eyes widened. “I think something’s in my shirt.”

  I gave her a dirty chuckle earning a death glare. “Okay fine, sorry, I couldn’t help it. Yeah, I think Little G found his way inside your bed, the little rascal.”

  “He’s climbing up my stomach,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m a bit freaked out. Oh wait, he stopped.”

  “I see that.” I grinned, grabbing my phone and snapping a picture. “Seems our Little G’s a boob guy, aren’t you, buddy?” So this is what being a proud father feels like, huh? Gotta say I liked the feeling.

  Little G nuzzled between her very perky breasts then poked his head out of the low V of her tank top as if to say, “What? They’re nice boobs!”

  No arguments there.

  I coughed and looked away. “As entertaining as this is, I’m exhausted, and it’s your turn for the walks. The corner by the fridge freaks him out because he can see his own reflection, almost had a gecko heart attack.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me.