Page 53 of Love to Loathe Him

Liam, on the other hand . . . Stunned doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But I’m on a roll now, and everyone’s too gobsmacked by my brutal honesty to stop me. “And if I can make one more point without overstepping, Sir,” I add, my voice growing stronger, “Liam’s from up North. He was born to a single, working-class mother. Yes, he got into private school thanks to his stepdad, but he built this company from the ground up with his own money and grit. So too did his brother Patrick. And Liam may be the only man in this room who wasn’t born into wealth. Maybe he has more in common with the workers who you want to protect than you realize.”

My cheeks flush as I feel three sets of eyes boring into me. Maybe I went too far.

“The McLaren brothers’ story is very admirable. I don’t disagree with that,” Sir Whitmore finally says, sounding almost grudging. “But it doesn’t mean I agree with how he does business. Now if you’ll excuse us, we must be heading on.” He nods curtly at me. “Gemma. Liam. Enjoy your night.”

“Gentlemen,” Liam rumbles, unfazed as the Whitmore men stride off. How does he do that? I feel like I’m about to spontaneously combust.

I blow out a long breath, deflating slightly. Dealing with that level of open hostility is draining. I risk a glance at Liam, bracing myself for him to tear me a new one after my little stunt.

But he’s quiet.

“They really don’t like you, do they?” I ask, stating the bleeding obvious.

“No, they hate my guts.” His response is matter-of-fact.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to throw you under the bus back there. I just thought, instead of arguing about what they don’t like about you, maybe we could give them something they do like.”

He looks at me for a long moment. “You did well. But word of warning for next time, I’m not a fan of sharing my background.”

“Everything I said is already on the internet,” I point out, feeling defensive.

“Even so. It’s got nothing to do with this acquisition.”

“It does with Sir Whitmore, apparently. Or he would have agreed to your proposal already.”

His lips tighten into a line. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Do you ever get used to people like that being so openly hostile toward you?” I ask, genuinely curious.

He quirks an eyebrow. “You saying no one likes me, Gemma?”

“Oh, there are a few people here who like you just fine,” I say pointedly, letting my gaze drift across the room. It’s not like I haven’t noticed the heated stares and open ogling directed at my boss all evening. Even the older lady-of-the-manor types are shooting him unmistakableI want to sit on your facelooks while clutching their pearls.

Liam turns that full, undivided intensity on me, his eyes glittering with a predatory amusement. “But not you, I take it?”

There’s a subtle undercurrent of challenge in his tone that has me swallowing hard, wondering when the hell this conversation took a flirtatious detour.

“I get the privilege of experiencing the tyrannical, control-freak, big swinging dickversion of you,” I shoot back, desperately trying to ignore the way he’s smirking at me. Hating that I’ve mentioned his dick yet again. Why couldn’t I have picked a less erotic insult for him? “I’m sure these ladies only ever encounter the charming version.”

He chuckles. “You get the unfiltered me. No charming masks or deception required. Just me.”

Shit. Are we actively flirting right now? Because this feels dangerously close to foreplay. Not that I’ve done much of that lately, for all I know it has changed.

Unwelcome heat unfurls low in my core as Liam studies me with undisguised amusement, like he’s enjoying watching me squirm. He’s playing me, just like he plays everyone.

“Lucky me,” I croak out, aiming for biting sarcasm but landing somewhere between breathless and aroused.

“Indeed,” he murmurs. He reaches out, fingers grazing my cheek as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The casual intimacy of the gesture short-circuits my brain. Does he even realize what he’s doing, or is this muscle memory from all his socialite arm candy?

Then he stiffens, his hand dropping away.

“I’m just going to pop to the loo,” I blurt out, my voice high and strangled. My hands smooth over the fabric of my dress, searching for something to do. “Meet you back here in a few?”

I don’t wait for his response. I’m already spinning on my heel, fleeing toward the restrooms like my ass is on fire. I can’t get away quick enough.

CHAPTER 16