Page 13 of Love to Loathe Him

Normally, I’d just whip out the checkbook, scribble enough zeroes to give their stuffed-shirt accountant a stiffy, and call it a night. But Whitmore’s continued delays and stalling tactics over our generous offer have tested the limits of my patience. So, I decided to pull out the big guns and show up in person, mainly to demand why the fuck his legal team is dragging ass on our offer.

Except the old bastard had the balls to no-show his own party.

Whitmore’s cavalier attitude is starting to grate on my nerves. He’s playing games like I’m some wet-behind-the-ears kid he can jerk around, as if he has any hope of extracting a better offer than what’s already on the table for his floundering company. One way or another, I’ll acquire TLS. Because this isn’t just another acquisition to me.And if he thinks absurd delaying tactics will pressure me into sweetening my already ludicrously overvalued offer, he’s sorely mistaken.

Blondie gives me bedroom eyes, batting those fake lashes like her life depends on it. I’ll say this for her—the girl’s a looker. A real head-turner, even in those ridiculous heels that put her almost at eye level with my 6'3" frame.

That coy smile plays on her lips, like she’s expecting me to play Prince Charming and kiss her hand. That glossy pout juts out, but I catch the flicker of doubt in her eyes as I firmly guide her hand away.

“Why show up if you’re so miserable?” shewhines.

“Because my company wanted to show support for the charity,” I reply flatly.

Her eyes light up. “It’ssoimpressive that you own Cashbury Thornton.”

“Mmm.” I don’t bother correcting her on the company name. Not like it matters.

“So like, what does your company even do? Buy stocks and stuff? I’m totally clueless about finance.”

I take a slow sip of scotch. “We’re a private equity firm.”

“Oh wow, I don’t even know what that is.” She giggles, as if ignorance is some kind of cute quirk. “But maybe you could explain it to me? Like, in simple terms?”

It’s taking every ounce of restraint not to roll my eyes. This night is shaping up to be a real winner.

I get it. I don’t expect everyone to understand the intricacies of how a multibillion-pound private equity firm operates. If financial markets aren’t your thing, fine. And on a reasonable day, I would indulge the curious. But Blondie here clearly has a one-track mind, and it sure as shit isn’t a burning desire to broaden her financial IQ.

“All right,” I drawl, letting my rapidly waning patience bleed into my tone. “We raise funds from investors, buy underperforming companies, whip them into shape, and sell them for a hefty profit. Kinda like farmers buying shitty plots of land, working their magic to make the crops thrive, then selling the land.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Likefarmers?”

“That’s right. Farmers.”

I can tell from the glazed look in her eyes that she checked out of this stimulating conversation about five minutes ago. Too busy mentally stripping me out of my tux and planning all the filthy waysshe’ll pry open my wallet. I’m not exactly riveted by our sparkling repartee either. I’ve already forgotten this woman’s name.

With a sigh, I take a long pull of my scotch. “To put it simply—we make money. That’s the long and short of it.”

She slithers closer until those porn-star tits press against my arm. Not tonight. Not in the mood.

“Mmm, sounds super intense,” she murmurs, trailing a finger down my lapel. She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. “But you know what they say, all work and no play makes Liam a dull, dull boy. And I can’t stand dull boys.”

“I play plenty.”

That pout transforms into a come-hither smirk. “Not with me, you haven’t. At least, not yet.”

I fix her with a look of indifference, letting the uncomfortable silence stretch until she starts to squirm. “That’s not on tonight’s agenda.”

“Don’t be like that,” she coaxes, leaning in until her cloying perfume threatens to choke me. “I bet I could change your mind. That sexy Northern growl of yours is doing all kinds of things to me. Yorkshire, right? It’s just so . . . rough.”

Her hand drifts south, manicured claws grazing over my zipper in a way that’s sure as hell no accident.

I capture her wrist before she can cop a more thorough feel. “Listen carefully, darling, because I’ll only say this once. I’m not interested. Are we clear on that point?”

She recoils like I slapped her, choking on an outraged gasp. “Well, I never—”

“Liam.”

That cocky voice behind me makes me stiffen. I turn slowly, coming face-to-face with the one asshole who never fails to make my blood boil.