Office Hate: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I groaned and fell back against the mattress. “I’m a failure at all things.”

  “Not all things,” he said simply. “Just…you know…living on your own, getting a good job, not falling asleep during a blow job. Chin up, it’s just a few things. I bet with some therapy and really intense daily practice, you could finally move out of your parents’ basement and have sex without falling asleep on people.”

  “I loathe the moment I met you,” I seethed, refusing to look in his direction.

  “Too bad.” He flicked my nipple before I could pull the sheet up. “I’ve never been so entertained since meeting you.”

  “Oh good, I’m like a comedy of failures. Great. Awesome. Where the hell are my clothes?”

  “Somewhere…” he mused. “Did I not mention that I’m very anti-clothing in my apartment?”

  “I’m sure you are.” I gritted my teeth and started ripping the sheet from the bed when he tugged it back, causing me to fall across his lap.

  His eyes were dancing with humor. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

  “Well…” I pouted and looked away. “You’re…mean.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “That all you got? I almost feel bad now…”

  I glared. “Stop holding me hostage before I scream.”

  “Just like you were last night?”

  My body went from cold and irritated to searing hot in one point two seconds. “I was drunk.”

  “Not that drunk.” He bopped my nose.

  Killing him.

  I was going to kill him!

  I lunged, only to have him move to the side so I nearly fell off the bed. He caught my arm, twisted me toward him then pressed an impressive kiss across my mouth. “There, isn’t that better?”

  “That’s the equivalent of patting me on the head and saying ‘there, there,’ you condescending prick!”

  “Oh honey, a nickname? This early? I’m touched.” He patted my damn head again.

  “Mark!” I yelled.

  He grinned. “See, knew you’d yell it again.”

  I was going to scream.

  Probably would have, but both of our phones went off at the same time.

  Weird.

  I scrambled away from him and grabbed mine.

  He did the same.

  And then I swear, in the next minute, we went from playful banter and hate sex to full-on Hunger Games.

  “You, uh…” He scratched the back of his head. “Get the text?”

  For the love of designer cheese, why the hell did he have to have such nice golden likable abs?

  “Yeah.” I tried not to flinch. “The uh, one about Emory Enterprises and the internship opening.”

  “They pick you?” His nostrils flared.

  “Depends.” I gulped. “Did they pick you?”

  “I’ve applied three times.”

  “Same.”

  “I report in a few days.”

  “Damn.” I kept a straight face. “Good for you.”

  “Olivia…” He lowered his voice and looked ready to pounce. “Did you get in?”

  “Maybe.” I started trying to find my clothes by way of telepathy. Shoes, shoes, where are youuuuuuuuu? “I should get going.”

  “Let me see your phone.” He lunged.

  I panicked and jerked back and then sprinted into the living room, hearing his footsteps pounding behind me.

  And then I was suddenly on my stomach against the floor while he pinned me there with nothing on but black boxer briefs that looked sexier than sin slung low on his hips.

  “Give it!” he yelled.

  “Never!” I bucked backward.

  And then he was hard all over again.

  And I was naked.

  And he felt so good.

  And I was so angry.

  Possibly confused.

  And the next thing I knew, he was lifting me up with his hands and pressing his tip into my entrance while I squirmed in an effort to get him to thrust harder.

  When he was finally all the way in…

  We both stilled.

  And then, like a man possessed, he fucked me.

  Hard.

  Against his carpet.

  With my phone in one hand.

  And holding myself up with the other while he grabbed my neck, leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses to my skin, one hand pinching a nipple, the other keeping me pinned where he wanted me.

  It was the most insane thing I’d ever done.

  He was the devil.

  And damn, did I want to sin.

  Heaven was overrated, right?

  Just let me fall in with my enemy for one damning minute.

  “Mark!” I screamed. “I’m so clo—”

  “Had to.” He interrupted. “Needed you.”

  “Yes.” I agreed. “Yes!”

  “Enemies after this,” he grunted.

  “Always,” I said as he pulled out and then flipped me onto my back only to surge back in, his eyes wild.

  He was angelic beauty mixed with the devil.

  And I was okay with it as he thrust painfully hard as if to punish both of us for feeling this attraction—for acting on it when we knew we’d go back to our corners afterward.

  It was just a bit of crazed fun.

  Right?

  We were enemies.

  Always.

  But I’d earned this, right? This pleasure. As my eyes rolled into the back of my head, his mouth lowered, and then his tongue was tangling with mine, and I tasted him everywhere.

  “Fuck.” His hips swiveled, and then he plunged so deep I felt him in every part of my body. As I pulsed around him like my body was trying to hold him captive, he said, “Olivia, I need to tell you—”

  “No.” I cupped a hand over his mouth. “The line goes back.” I arched. “After this…it has to.”

  His eyes shuttered, and then I was screaming his name as he slipped his hand between our bodies as if to finish off what he regretted starting.

  I fell back against the floor panting.

  Looking up at the devil or maybe a fallen angel—who knew at this point?

  And then he said the damning words that I should have expected but didn’t have time to protect myself from.

  “You should go,” he whispered, still inside me.

  “Yeah,” I said stunned, pulling away. “Guess I should.”

  I shakily grabbed the clothes strewn around the room. He watched me as I stepped into lacy panties and struggled to get my dress zipped, and smoothed as much as possible. I pulled on my cardigan without zipping the dress so I wouldn’t have to muscle into my Spanx—the last thing I needed was to put on a show as sweat ran down my back while trying to roll on the damn things. Once I was safely covered, I located my shoes and put them on. I walked to the door and left without so much as a goodbye.

  Hating him more than I had ever thought possible.

  For being the man I’d always compare every other man to.

  For being cruel when I needed him to be the bigger person.

  And for agreeing to draw that line back in the sand when all I wanted was for him to say no, and keep me in his arms just a bit longer.

  I didn’t realize I had tears until they dripped from my chin. Until I was doing the walk of shame down the sidewalk and attempting to grab an Uber to my car.

  The only thing I had to look forward to was the fact that I was an intern now for Max Emory.

  Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could be worse than the walk of shame from your enemy’s apartment after sober sex, not drunk, but sober sex!

  Nothing.

  I had no clue that a month later, I would do anything to return to this embarrassing moment.

  After all, Max Emory… isn’t normal.

  Had I known that I probably never would have said yes.

  And neither would Mark.

  Chapter Five

  Mark

  “Welcome to intern initiation!” Max Emory, CEO, spread his arms wide as he smil
ed at the group of twelve interns, of which I was one. He was wearing a three-piece black and white striped suit. The man had friggin’ spectacles attached to his suit that he randomly held up to his face looking like he belonged in the cast of A Christmas Carol. Did he even need them, or was it to throw us off his scent?

  After my one-night stand with Olivia—I’d done an embarrassingly long internet search on Max and found out that he had actually been a contestant on Love Island. Think The Bachelor, but with more crazy women than any sane man would be able to handle.

  Then again, Max Emory was known for being…eccentric, so maybe he’d been into it.

  Some articles said that’s what had sent him over the edge. Then again, he was still happily married and a freaking billionaire, so whatever; his life wasn’t that rough, you know?

  Other articles said he was eccentric, both in his personal life and in work, which as he spoke, I realized was scary accurate. He was almost too confident and too happy to be torturing all of us interns.

  I drummed my fingers against my thigh, waiting for the announcement, but the guy kept pausing for three seconds in between taking giant gulps of water. The hell was wrong with him?

  The hell was wrong with me?

  I was so nervous I wanted to puke.

  I needed this internship more than I needed another night with Olivia, and that was up there with needing air.

  Fuck, she tasted good.

  Max droned on, and every few minutes he spread his hands wide like he was the host of some game show when there were only twelve people in the room and one camera guy documenting, according to Max, his epic speech.

  Weird.

  And even weirder, or should I say harder?

  Olivia was here.

  Two seats down.

  Wearing black jeans and a gray T-shirt, looking sexy as ever.

  Did she regret it?

  Did she think about me the way I thought about her?

  Did she even care that she made me feel cheap, so I made her angry? I mean, I was inside her when she wanted to draw the fucking line between us again as if her job was more important than whatever connection we’d had that night.

  And I needed the job as much as she did.

  She was no longer the girl I’d always wanted.

  But the one I had to keep at a distance in order to get the job I deserved.

  And I knew she felt the same way, which almost made it worse.

  Like both of us were willing to sacrifice each other in order to have stability in an ever-changing job climate.

  Shit. We really did deserve each other.

  “Now.” Max clasped his hands together, his megawatt grin huge. “Sorry about the stack of paperwork you guys had to sign.”

  Tell me about it. One form read, “In case of death or psychosis.” What the hell?

  “But we have to cover all of our bases,” Max continued. “And I’m so glad to say that out of the twelve interns, two have made it through our initiation process!”

  My stomach sank as I looked around the room.

  One of the guys had gone to Dartmouth.

  Yeah, no chance in hell I was beating him.

  “A very special congratulations to Mark and Olivia! Our new summer interns!”

  I froze.

  Olivia paled.

  So far, all great signs, am I right?

  “Applause!” Max encouraged as the rest of the candidates glared at both of us like we just ran over their new puppy.

  I forced a smile and a wave, not knowing what else to do.

  Olivia blushed but stood and did the same like we were both in a pageant.

  Even apart, we were being awkward, so how the hell were we supposed to work so close together for the next two months?

  Survival instincts kicked in as Max ushered us forward. “Come, come!”

  Was it wrong that when he said come, all I could think about was her face when I was inside her?

  Dirty.

  Wrong.

  Didn’t hate the visual though.

  I cleared my throat and walked toward the front of the room with Olivia walking next to me, her scent snaking around my body, making my dick twitch and my breath catch like I was back in middle school, unable to control every sexual urge I had.

  My fingers flexed into two fists as I finally made it up to Max, my new boss for the next few months.

  How the hell was his dark chocolate hair so shiny and thick? I frowned as he lifted his stupid ass spectacles again and examined me, then her. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.”

  “Thanks,” Olivia said with a bright smile. “Can I be the first to say how excited I am to be picked? I’ll work extremely hard, I’ll even stay late, whatever you need, Mr. Emory—”

  “Too bad you just got a puppy that needs training, huh Olive?” I piped up. “But sir, don’t worry, I have no pets, no life really; I’ll be happy to spend the night at the offices if I have to. After all, nobody needs me, and the ones who say they do, like to draw super fancy lines in the sand just in case I get confused. I am a guy, huh, after all.”

  “Poor lonely bastard.” Max shook his head. “Do you have the sads, brother?”

  “Sads,” I repeated. “Yes…I’m…” I gulped. “So very sad.” I hung my head.

  He literally pulled me in for a hug in front of everyone, then slapped my back like I was choking on a rib. “Brothers stick together. Thank you for being vulnerable with me. I’ll be sure to distract you from your current life situation with work.”

  “It’s all I want,” I said with a grin.

  Olivia cleared her throat. “We sold the puppy.”

  Max did a double take. “Into slavery?”

  “No! What?” She shared a panicked expression with me then beamed at Max. “He was having a hard time adjusting to the cat, so my parents sold him, and I’m still living at home, so—”

  Max held up one hand then pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. “You sold him to a puppy factory?”

  “NO!” she nearly shouted. “My cousin—who’s a vet, by the way—bought him from my parents because she loves puppies. I’m a puppy advocate. You won’t find anyone who loves animals more!”

  “Oh.” Max straightened up. “That’s a relief.”

  “Isn’t it though?” She smiled brightly.

  “The rest of you…” Max motioned to the room. “You can go home. You’ll be compensated for your time. Thank you for applying.” Everyone shuffled out as he turned to us. “Now that we’re done with the official announcement…” He rubbed his hands together. “Welcome, to Emory Enterprises. Furthermore—” His blue eyes gleamed. “—welcome to the Emory Games.”

  My stomach flipped then fell off a cliff. “What?”

  “The Emory Games.” He spread his arms wide and then snapped his fingers. “Dustin, don’t make me snap again!”

  “Sir—” A guy in his early twenties wearing a shirt that said Max’s bitch came running with two manila envelopes in hand. “The printer’s on the fritz again.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed. “You annoy me.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “Do your hair differently tomorrow.” Max flipped his wrist at poor Dustin. “And try not to cower when you get yelled at. It’s disappointing.”

  “Right away, sir!” This Dustin guy saluted him and then did this weird mix of a march slash walk out of the room, head held high.

  “I love my cousin. I love my cousin.” Max repeated under his breath. “Now, please read everything in the envelopes and report to work tonight.”

  “Tonight?” we said in unison.

  Max shrugged. “It was in the application. Must be able to work odd hours.”

  Odd hours meaning late hours or early ones, right? Not midnight.

  “Is this the start of our workday, then?” Olivia asked.

  “Read, Olivia. Read.” He winked, and then he was off, but weirdly enough, the guy with the camera stayed.

  I tried to ignore him as I shakily pulled out
the first sheet of paper and then nearly passed out when I started to read.

  Olivia and I weren’t just working together.

  No, Max wanted us accessible.

  As of one minute ago, and as an intern, I was now moving into Emory Towers. And my new roommate?

  Olivia.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Six

  Olivia

  I was going to live with him?

  With. HIM?

  I tried not to stare too hard at his golden biceps as he rolled his suitcase into the suite and looked around.

  I had a sudden vision of me spread across him, his mouth between my legs, my breath coming in short pants.

  Damn it!

  I was not supposed to be imagining anything about Mark!

  And yet, there he was looking sexy as hell in his tight black T-shirt and ripped jeans; I mean, whyyyyyyyyyy? We were interns, not joining a rockband!

  I snorted and then looked around with a frown as Dustin came stomping in like he was about to announce the queen.

  Did the man know how to walk quietly?

  He’d changed his clothes from earlier and was now wearing head-to-toe black, including a black belt. His black eyeglasses had no actual glass, and I was busy trying to find out why, just why, when he cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back. “Mr. Emory has left a list of your duties for the evening once you’ve gotten settled in.”

  Mark shoved his rolling suitcase down the hall and scowled. “Almost settled; which room’s mine?”

  Dustin’s grin had me narrowing my eyes as Mark slowly started trying each of the doors down the hall, frowning as none of them opened.

  “You’ll be sharing the bathroom at the end of the hall, and for now, you’ll share the living room.”

  I gaped.

  Two large white leather couches sat in a gorgeous living room with wood paneling and twenty-foot ceilings. A flat-screen TV hung against the stark wall, and a long narrow fireplace occupied the space directly below it.

  The apartment was basically cold and empty, beautiful but weirdly nothing I would ever pick out for myself. Maybe it was because there weren’t many decorations, and things just appeared too clean.

  “Both of us?” Mark asked in a choked voice. “Are in the living room? Why don’t we get bedrooms?”

  “You will.” Dustin grinned. “Eventually. Mr. Emory is…careful in how he approaches training his interns. If you’ll just read the welcome packets I’ve left on the kitchen bar, please. And if you have no other needs, then I’ll be going.”