Love/Hate: The Complete Enemies to Lovers Series

by Lilian Monroe

  It’s time I let loose.

  Red is watching me, and I see the edges of her lips curl upward. She raises her bottle of wine at me, and I raise my glass at her. It’s as if she’s been reading my mind. We both take a sip, and I smile.

  Tonight, I’m not a prisoner of my past. I’m whatever I want to be.

  6

  Liam

  By the time I’m in a fresh shirt and ready to go out, my phone is blowing up.

  “I’m coming!” I answer as it rings for the millionth time. I can hear loud music thumping through the phone.

  Aaron, my best friend, laughs on the other end of the line. “Thought you’d chickened out.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour. You got the VIP section closed off?”

  “All sectioned off and ready for Sir Liam Maguire to arrive, fashionably late as usual.”

  “Fuck you,” I grin. “I had to go home and change, some chick spilled her glass of wine all over me at the construction thing.”

  “And how did that happen?” I can hear the laugh in his voice.

  I grin. “See you in a few.”

  I glance at myself one last time and give my hair a little tousle, and then I head for the door. Aaron will have the VIP area reserved, and no doubt a gaggle of women clawing for a piece of him—and me.

  Just the way I like it.

  I jump in a taxi and head for the club. My mind drifts back to the awards ceremony—what was that girl’s name… Ashley?

  Her cheeks had flushed when she saw the mess on our clothes, and my cock throbbed. Then, she turned her nose up at me and shot me down.

  Her fucking loss.

  I give myself an hour, and I’ll be balls-deep in random pussy, and Ashley-whatever-her-face will be out of my mind and out of my life forever.

  I won’t think about my body on top of hers, her tits pressed up against my chest as I lay on top of her. I won’t think about her long lashes, or the way she bit her lip.

  My pulse starts to thrum at the thought of her ass swaying side-to-side as she walked away from me, and then the cab lurches to a stop. I chuck some cash onto the center console.

  “Keep the change.”

  The bouncers already know me, and they unhook the velvet rope to let me through. I hear a mix of gasps and protests from the long line of people waiting to get in.

  Some of them are outraged that I’ve skipped the line, and I don’t give a fuck. Some of them recognize me—one of them might even be the lucky girl who gets to fuck me tonight. I glance over my shoulder at the lineup of scantily-clad and over-perfumed peasants.

  My eyes pause on one particular navy-clad ass, whose owner is currently bending over to fix her shoe.

  Maybe she’ll be the one.

  I grin, and nod to the second bouncer who opens the door for me. A curtain of darkness and sound engulfs me. I stalk through the club, my feet taking the familiar path toward the VIP section at the back of the room.

  “About fucking time!” Aaron exclaims when I hop up the three steps to the reserved area. He wraps one arm around me, leaving his other arm draped across the shoulders of a pretty brunette with big tits. “How was the awards thing?”

  “About as much fun as I expected,” I grin. “What’s a guy got to do to get a drink around here?”

  Aaron nods to the bartender, and within seconds there’s a fresh drink in my hand. I grin. “Business is good, I see.”

  Aaron shrugs. “Opening Club Nine next week, so I’ll tell you how things are going after that. I have a surprise for you, as a congratulatory present for finishing your race without dropping dead in the street.”

  “Fuck you,” I grin. Aaron nods behind him, and I see two blondes in tight white dresses sitting on a sofa. One of them waves her long, manicured nails at me. My eyebrows raise, and Aaron laughs.

  Aaron comes from a wealthy family—one of Colorado’s elite. We grew up together, going to all the same private schools all the way to college. He went to business school, and I did the easiest bachelor’s degree I could do so that I could keep running.

  Somehow, Aaron convinced his conservative father to give him enough money to open a bar a few years ago, and things have been flying since then. He owns half of the hottest bars in the city and has cemented himself as Denver’s Golden Boy.

  These chicks are a dime a dozen, and they basically attach themselves to him—and me—for a bit of free liquor and a chance to sit three steps higher than everybody else in the club.

  It’s pathetic, but I’m not going to turn down an easy lay.

  “Ladies,” I grin, walking over to the blondes. “You guys need a drink?”

  “Grey goose and water,” one of them says, batting her eyelashes and lifting her near-empty glass. I nod.

  “Coming up. I’ll be right back,” I add, realizing that I’d better take a leak before I sit down with these bombshells. The one design flaw in this club is that the restrooms are on the opposite side of the club as the VIP area.

  So, I make my way across the crowded dance floor toward the restrooms. I don’t have to weave through people very much, because the crowd parts for me naturally. I see eyes lingering on me, and I know that most of these people know who I am.

  When I’m about halfway to the restrooms, I see her.

  Here.

  In my club. Well—Aaron’s club, technically, but it might as well be mine.

  Ashley, and a group of people that she does not look like she belongs to. There’s that snarky redhead and a couple other chicks. Two guys, too. Their group turns toward the bar, and I see one of the guys’ hand resting gently on Ashley’s lower back.

  Fuck no.

  Rage ignites inside me. I stand still, staring at the hand until he drops it. Ashley turns toward the redhead and laughs, and I just stand there and stare. I just fucking stare at her, like a mouth-breathing Neanderthal. I look at her lips, her neck, her shoulders. I take in every curve of her body as she leans against the bar.

  Then, I shake myself out of my stupor and head for the restrooms. I need to get a fucking grip. There are two other blondes ready and waiting for me in the VIP area. Hell, they’re probably wet already. And here I am lusting after this chick? The one who turned me down already?

  No. Not me. Not Liam Maguire.

  I don’t give a fuck about anyone, especially not some random chick from a shitty awards ceremony. The doctors may have patched up my heart, but they sure as hell haven’t fixed it.

  I storm to the bathrooms, cutting in front of a line of people. I vaguely hear their protests, but I ignore them. The entire time I’m in the restroom, I’m just thinking about her.

  Ashley.

  With the wavy blonde hair and the fiery eyes. With that quick tongue and sassy attitude.

  With another man’s hand on her fucking back.

  By the time I’ve washed my hands and pushed the washroom door open to leave, my heart is thumping. I could avoid them and focus on the girls that are waiting for me. I don’t have to walk right by the bar where they’re ordering drinks.

  My body has other ideas, though. Before I know it, I’m heading straight for her. I can see her from the other side of the room. She’s laughing and dancing to the music. Her face is flushed—I wonder how much she’s been drinking. Her eyes are closed as she sings along to the song, and then that asshole puts his arm around her shoulders.

  That tattooed son of a bitch pulls her in and she laughs as she catches herself against his chest. I’m practically running now. My steps are jerky, hurried, and I push bodies out of the way as I bee-line toward them.

  Toward her.

  I don’t even know why. I’m not sure what I’ll do when I get there. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is him getting his grubby fucking hands off her perfect body.

  I’m ten feet away from them. Eight feet away. Five, four, three…

  “Liam!” Ashley exclaims. She peels herself off Dickhead and my pulse slows down a tick.

  Suddenly, I’m stopped, and the
y’re all staring at me. Dickhead is staring at me very closely, with his thick fucking eyebrows drawn together.

  “Hey,” I say, clearing my throat.

  “Well, well, well,” the redhead says with her stupid arrogant smirk. She looks me up and down and shakes her head. “If it isn’t Mr. Can’t-Take-Rejection. Back for more?”

  I ignore her.

  “What are you doing here?” It comes out more aggressively than I meant.

  Ashley frowns, and her smooth forehead creases ever so slightly. She lifts her glass. “Drinking. Dancing. Forgetting that I just got fired.” She laughs then, and shrugs at me. “What are you doing here?”

  The tension between my shoulder blades eases at the sight of her smile.

  “The same, more or less. Minus the getting fired part.”

  Her eyes linger on mine, and the air between us crackles. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. In that instant, I would pay anything to be that lip she’s sucking. She brings her drink up to her mouth and slides the straw between her pink lips, and the whole room falls away.

  The music, the lights, the drunken people grinding against each other… none of it exists. All I see are those big, blue eyes and those perfect lips wrapped around her straw.

  “Well, that is a fascinating conversation,” the redhead says as she rolls her eyes. “Almost as fascinating as the first one you two had.”

  “You want to dance?” The guy says to Ashley, and rage starts to rise inside me. She glances at him and smiles—but it’s not how she smiled at me. Her face doesn’t light up, and her eyes don’t sparkle. She smiles at him like she would smile at her fucking grandmother.

  Still, she smiles. I watch her nod, and I know I’m losing her. She’ll walk away, and I’ll never see her again.

  And for some reason—maybe it’s just my ego, and the fact that Dickhead is just a tattooed asshole who doesn’t appreciate how fucking beautiful this woman is—but whatever the reason, I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want the last time I see her to be half-drunk at some dirty club.

  “Work for me,” I yell over the music. Her head whips toward me and a laugh tumbles out of her lips.

  “What?”

  “You do PR, right?”

  She nods, frowning and smiling at me like I’m a lunatic. Maybe I am.

  “I need a PR manager, and as of tonight, sounds like you need a job.”

  “You’re offering me a job? You don’t even know me.”

  “I’m good at reading people.” And I want to read you over and over. “I’ll pay double whatever you were making at the construction company.”

  Her eyes widen, and then narrow again. “Triple.”

  “Two and a half times your current salary, final offer,” I grin. Every time she opens those lips of hers, I like her more and more. I just wish she was opening them for something other than talking.

  She chews her bottom lip for a second, and then reaches her hand toward me to shake. “Deal.”

  I slide my palm against hers, and my body stiffens at the touch. Her skin is soft, but her handshake is firm. She looks me in the eye and finally flashes a smile at me.

  “Nice doing business with you, Mr. Maguire.”

  “Call me that again, and you’ll be fired on the spot.” I’m not Mr. Maguire—that’s my father, and now my older brother. It’s not me.

  Her big blue eyes spark and she nods. I slip a business card out of my wallet and hand it to her, and something else drops to the floor as I pull it out. She bends down and picks up a little gold package and holds it up toward me. I see the condom I’d stuffed into my wallet on the way out the door between her fingers.

  “Glad to see you take safety seriously, Mr. Maguire,” she says slowly.

  I take the condom from her fingers and slip the business card into her hand. Her eyes stay glued to mine, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.

  The guy beside her puts his arm around her waist, but I don’t even care, because she’s staring at me. And as I walk away, I can feel her gaze on me all the way back to the VIP area.

  7

  Ashley

  I stare at the business card in my hand and then again at Liam. He doesn’t look back as he strides across the dance floor toward the VIP area. Drunks part around him like a school of fish around a shark, and I can’t help but feel that I’m one of them. He’s a predator, and I’m his prey.

  … and a part of me likes it.

  Looking back at the card in my hand, my eyebrows draw together and my thoughts rush back to Randy. To the powerlessness and the worthlessness.

  To the fear.

  I was prey then, too. The minute I decide I’m ready to let men back in my life, am I making the same mistake I made ten years ago?

  I take a deep breath and slide the card into my purse, squaring my shoulders and painting a smile on my face. Red is looking at me with one arched eyebrow, her bright eyes gleaming in the club’s low light.

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  She laughs, and Benji’s hand slides further down my back.

  Suddenly, I don’t like it anymore. I thought I wanted his attention. I thought I wanted to scratch an itch. I thought I wanted to get laid.

  Not like this. I don’t want to get drunk and do something I’ll regret tomorrow.

  Another song comes on and the lights start flashing. I’m dizzy and disoriented. Bile starts rising in my throat and the drink in my hand suddenly seems unbearably disgusting.

  Red’s hand slides over my forearm.

  “You okay?” She says, leaning into my ear.

  I shake my head. “I need to go home.”

  Her eyebrows draw together and her eyes soften. She nods, and I realize that she’s not the rough, boisterous person I thought she was. She cares.

  She looks at Benji and hooks her arm around my elbow. I look over my shoulder and mouth the word sorry before following Red toward the exit.

  We say nothing as we walk out the door—she gets a stamp so she can get back in but I don’t bother. As we walk out, I notice all the things I missed on the way in--the dirt in the corners of the staircase, the gum stuck to the baseboard, the scratches on the fading black paint in the lobby.

  This place is disgusting.

  As soon as we get outside, I fill my lungs with fresh air, gulping it down in deep breaths. Red drags me toward a nearby taxi stand and puts me in the backseat.

  “Take care of yourself, Ash. Here, give me your phone, I’ll give you my number. Not that you need more random people’s numbers in your life tonight.”

  I chuckle despite my rolling stomach and hand her my phone. “You’re not a random person.”

  “Let me know when you get home.”

  Her face softens again and she hands me my phone back before closing the taxi door. The driver looks in the rear view mirror at me.

  “Where to?”

  “Home,” I sigh, and I give him my address. The car lurches forward and I settle into my seat, staring out the window and holding my phone in my lap.

  After a few minutes, I reach into my purse and find Liam’s card.

  Liam Maguire, CEO

  Heart Start Foundation

  I chew my lip.

  Liam makes me feel out of control, and that’s the last thing I want. I’m just starting to feel like myself again, and I don’t want to spiral. Recovering from Randy—from everything that happened—it took a lot of therapy and a lot of work.

  But then I think of the way Liam’s eyes roamed over me, and how deliciously sexy it made me feel. For the first time in years, I felt like a woman. He made me feel like I deserved to be looked at that way. He made me feel wanted. Randy never made me feel like that.

  Plus, I just lost my job, and he offered me two and a half times the salary.

  I sigh, closing my eyes and leaning back against the headrest. Tomorrow, I’ll call my sister Stella. She’s a lawyer, and she’s been by my side since Day One. She’ll know what I should do. Right now, my head is spinning to
o fast to make sense of anything.

  Slipping the business card back in my purse, I feel calmer already.

  I’m in control. I can refuse the job or accept it. I get to choose.

  Just because I’m attracted to the man doesn’t mean I’m losing control. It doesn’t mean he’s the same kind of man that Randy was, and it doesn’t mean that I have to turn down a good career opportunity.

  If anything, this is my first real test. If I really am back to myself—strong, confident, secure—then I’ll be able to take this job and work with Liam without a problem.

  Maybe it’s really a good thing. It’s out of my comfort zone, and it’s time for me to move on from my trauma. Liam feels dangerous, but that might be exactly what I need to move on.

  By the time the taxi stops outside my building, my heart is beating more steadily and my stomach has calmed down. I pay the driver and make my way inside, collapsing on my bed and staring at the ceiling for a few minutes.

  In two days, I made it through the one year anniversary of the worst day of my life and met a man that makes my heart thump like never before. I’ve been fired and gotten a new job offer.

  I feel off-balance and disoriented… but I also feel good. It feels like a fresh start is finally happening for me.

  I call Stella the next morning once I’ve showered. I grip my cup of coffee and hold my phone to my ear, suddenly nervous about asking her for her opinion. What if she tells me to run from Liam? Would that be better or worse than if she told me to take the job?

  “Hey, sis,” she answers. I can hear the tiredness in her voice and my heart squeezes. She’s juggling a new boyfriend and a stressful job, as well as taking care of my many breakdowns. “How was the thing last night?”

  “I got fired.”

  “You what?”

  I laugh bitterly. “I don’t even know. John just decided that I was to blame for some pretty serious noise complaints and fired me on the spot.”