Page 11 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

“Did you justmove in yesterday?”

“Sit,” he ordered in the exact tone you’d use with a misbehaving dog, and I decided that I was going to spend my first official morning snipping all the wires in his house.

He trudged away, the defined muscles in his back rippling under his shirt as he stuffed an aggravated hand through his dark curls.

Less than five minutes later, the warm scent of coffee drifted into the room.

“I’ll take one, too, please!” I called out. “With a splash of oat milk if you have!”

Not one for listening, Dominic returned with a single black mug, setting it on the end table with the gentleness and poise of a drowsy grizzly. Then he dragged his chair forward with no regard whatsoever for my personal space. When he finally plopped down, his gigantic knee pressed to mine.

Electric irritation zipped up my thigh.

“So I can see,” he explained, gesturing between us. “And vice versa.”

I bit back the retort nipping at the tip of my tongue. There was no point. I could insult his looks all I wanted, but we both knew it was bullshit.

Unfortunately for me, that cat had clawed its way out of the bag our senior year of high school, and there was no putting it back.

Instead, I picked up his mug and took a sip. “I’m ready to start whenever you are.”

The dim drowsiness in his eyes was already starting to lift, making room for something sharper. “Tell me about your qualifications.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Any previous work experience you think will help you in this role?”

“Nope.”

His head slanted to one side as he paused for a moment to watch me, and a dark curl fell over his forehead. He leaned forward, his fingers grazing mine as he took the mug back. A delicate wave of sparkling sensation swept over my skin, making my pulse flutter.

He sipped, unfazed. Then, “How would you handle a situation in which a false accusation has been made against you in the workplace?”

My molars scraped together. “Deny it,” I said. Just as Rosie should’ve done.

The evidence had been pretty damning, but we all would’ve believed her if she’d just denied taking the jewelry. But, according to Gampy, she’d just stood there, looking down at the photos and refusing to say anything.

Dominic didn’t want to hear it. “Have you ever falsely accused someone of something they didn’t do?”

“No.”

“You seem to have a knack for lying. How do you think that will help you in a role like this?”

I crossed my legs, wondering how long it would take him to notice if I started stuffing his pillows with dog shit. “Having to pretend like I respect my boss enough to follow his orders would be the main one.”

The right side of his plush mouth hooked up before he could hide it behind another sip. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

My ankle ticked. “As far away from you as possible.”

“Have you ever washed a dish?”

“Obviously not,” I deadpanned. I’d never even seen a kitchen sink. I was too spoiled, useless, and entitled for that.Obviously.

“Do you think you’ll last more than twenty-four hours in this role?”

“I’m not sure, but I do think I’ll outlast you.”

The spread of his grin was slow enough to be deliberate, as though he understood the full, heart-stopping impact of it and wanted to take his sweet time driving the knife in. “Is that a challenge, Lice?”