Home > Hate Story(5)

Hate Story(5)
Author: Nicole Williams

Though it was faint, I could just make out an accent. It was European, but I couldn’t nail down the country. To look at the bastard, you’d think he was Scandinavian—blond hair, blue eyes, commanding frame—but his accent was too sharp to hail from the land of Vikings.

I was tempted to glare at the tipped smile aimed at me, but I didn’t want to lead him to the impression I cared. I gave him my version of the same smile, abandoning my “no expectations” policy for the prospect of pissing him off. “You’re older than I thought you’d be.”

His smile shifted into the realm of a smirk, like he knew I was lying. So yeah, maybe I was lying about thinking he was older, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of confirming his silent accusation. He was older than me, but not by much. He might have been closing in on thirty, but he wasn’t past it.

He leaned forward in the chair. When his gaze circled my face to my fiery red hair, his brow elevated. Yes, I am the stereotype. Be warned.

“Prettier too.”

I stiffened. He was fucking with me now. I’d already agreed to marry him. How much more did he think he could screw me over?

I gave him a cursory glance and kept the unaffected look on my face. “Uglier.”

He cocked a brow like he knew better. “And the personality of ten women rolled into one.”

“Intimidated?”

His head shook once. “Intrigued.”

“Irritated?”

His eyes investigated me again. It felt intrusive, definitely not cursory. “Impressed.”

“As impressed by me as the woman in heat who was just mauling you over by the bar?”

“You mean the woman who gave me this?” He pulled something out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and set it on the small table between us.

It was a hotel card key. With a lipstick kiss pressed into it.

“Classy place, this five-star hotel.” I glanced back at the woman at the bar. She was still there, watching him as though he was the height of the male species. “Did you tell her the reason you were here?”

His attention stayed on me. “Yes, I told her I was here to meet the woman I was going to marry.”

My stomach wrung. This was the man I was going to marry.

Holy shit.

“And she didn’t ask for her room key back?” I asked.

“She didn’t give it to me until right after I mentioned that.” His stare was intense. Too intense. I felt like every secret—every piece of who I was—was strewn out on that table for him to see. “Women love a man who isn’t afraid of commitment. It’s like an aphrodisiac.”

“You know what else women like?” I didn’t pause for an answer because I guessed he didn’t have a clue. “A man who’s humble.”

He fought a smile and leaned back in his chair when a server approached with a couple of drinks on a tray. “No, they like to think they do, but they don’t.” His head shook authoritatively. “They like the cocky bastard who goes after what he wants and doesn’t take no for an answer.”

Because the server was shielding some of me from his view, I allowed myself to shift. I was getting fired up, and if he kept saying the same kinds of things with the same kinds of looks on his face, that drink was going to wind up in his face.

That was when I noticed what the server had set in front of me. A tumbler with something amber in color. The same thing she was setting in front of him. Although from the curve of her smile, she was offering to give him a blow job on the side, compliments of the house.

“What is this?” I asked. Him. Her. Whoever wanted to answer.

“Scotch,” he answered, ignoring the server lingering between us.

My nose curled at the drink.

“Expensive scotch.”

“I don’t care if it came from the fountain of youth. I won’t drink it.”

His forehead creased with what appeared to be irritation, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was confusion, like he couldn’t decide what to make of me. “You would have me believe you wouldn’t take a sip of that if you knew it would give you eternal life?” When I shook my head, his head tipped. “Why?”

“Because I value my free will far more than long life.” I pushed the drink away until it clinked against his. “I’d rather live one day free than an eternity in a cage.”

He was quiet for a moment. The server stayed between us, staring at him, waiting.

“Then why are you here?” he asked me finally.

I leaned forward and hoped my stare was as powerful as his. “Because free will is expensive.”

He let that hang between us, never looking away. He wasn’t used to being challenged, having people push back. I understood why. He didn’t just exude confidence, he defined it. He didn’t just garner respect, he demanded it.

Of course one of the few men in the world who had probably been a world ruler in some other life would be about to marry one of the few women in the world who had likely been a Joan of Arc figure.

Irony? You suck.

“Well?” He waved between the server and me. “She’s not just lingering here for her health.”

I considered mentioning that no, she was waiting for him to take her up on the BJ offer, but better judgment caught me just in time. It was rare when that happened.

“Water,” I said to her, staring at him. I would not be intimated by a stare. I would not let him slate himself in the top spot by crumbling beneath his confident façade. “I’ll have a water please.”

“A water?” the server repeated, like she’d never heard of it. In this place, where inebriated seemed to be the theme, maybe she hadn’t.

“You know, that stuff that comes out of a faucet? All clear and cold? Chemical symbol H2O? That stuff we’re supposed to drink eight eight-ounce glasses of a day?” I paused when I noticed him fighting another smile. “That’s what I’d like. Please.” I might have been strong-minded, but I had manners.

Unlike the person sitting across from me, still fighting a smile that was dripping with amusement.

Once the server left to hopefully fill my drink order, I scanned the room. It was filling up. Kate and her friends were stationed at a table behind me. She was positioned so she could see us, but it wasn’t me she was watching. And she wasn’t appraising him like she was looking out for her friend’s best interest but like she was contemplating how to make him hers.

   
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