Page 59 of Love to Loathe Him

But TLS has been in my crosshairs for years, ever since I was a scrawny shit with no money to my name. I knew even back then that I wanted—no, needed—to get my hands on that company.

So Alastair might think he’s got this in the bag. But he’s underestimating me. And that’s going to be his biggest mistake. Because I’m not just determined to win this. I’m fucking obsessed. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make TLS mine.

CHAPTER 18

Gemma

“I feel bad thatyou’re going out of your way. I could’ve grabbed a cab.” I glance over at Liam as we wind through London’s streets, the bright city lights giving way to the quieter, more residential areas of Putney.

Having him take me home feels oddly intimate. Ever since our dance, my body has been on fire.

He may be sitting on his side of the car, but all I can focus on is the intoxicating scent of his cologne and the way his trousers envelop his powerful thighs. I can’t stop thinking about that unmistakable hardness pressed against me during our dance.

And that knowledge gives me a delicious thrill of power. He’s not immune to me. Beneath that cool exterior, he’s still a man with reactions. A very sexy, very dangerous man.

“It’s fine,” he says, his tone dismissive. “I invited you to this event, so I’ll see you home.”

“Well, technically, James is the one doing the heavy lifting,” I quip, flashing a smile at our driver. “You live in Vauxhall, right? Along the river?”

“That’s right,” Liam confirms, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

I’m taken aback by the gesture, considering he’ll have to backtrack quite a bit, and London traffic is a nightmare even at this hour.

“I’ve been thinking,” I venture, “about the regatta.”

“What about it?” he asks.

“It’s run by TLS, and it obviously means a great deal to Sir Whitmore.”

“Which is why I send boats to compete.”

“It’s not enough, though, is it?”

Liam leans back in his seat, looking relaxed, but there’s a sharp edge in his eyes. “I don’t need your help to win the regatta, Gemma. We always come out on top, and we hand over a fat check, more than double what they ask for.”

“It’s not about winning. It’s about building a relationship, about showing Sir Whitmore that you’re someone he can trust and work with,” I explain, feeling like I’m trying to teach empathy to a shark. “From his perspective, you don’t even bother to show up to the regatta, yet your company still takes home the trophy every time.Andyou’re an avid sailor, which only further rubs salt in the wound.”

Liam’s eyes narrow to slits. “I don’t mix business with pleasure. Sailing is my pleasure.” His voice drops an octave, turning rough and gravelly. “One of them, anyway.”

I squirm in my seat, the leather suddenly too hot against my bare thighs. My traitorous mind conjures up vivid images of Liam’s other “pleasures.”

“I know enough about the regatta to know that all the other companies treat it as a team-building event and a chance to mingle,” I press on, steering my thoughts to safer waters. “But you just send the best sailors in the company along with a mix of professionals.”

“What’s your point?”

“Mypointis you should attend the regatta yourself. We’ll make it a proper team-building exercise and try to get on Sir Whitmore’s good side. He can see the nice, approachable boss spending time with his employees.” I smirk, unable to resist poking the bear. “We might need to work on that part. Maybe practice smiling in the mirror?”

Liam mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “bloody hell,” then lapses into silence, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window.

Finally, he turns to me. “All right. We’ll do it your way. I’ll grace the regatta with my presence. But you’ll be right there with me, every step of the way.”

I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

“Fine,” I agree, trying to sound nonchalant even as my stomach does a flip at the thought of spending an entire weekend with Liam in a non-work setting, at sea.

James pulls up to my street, and I give Liam a curt nod. “Thanks for the lovely evening. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. For those interviews you promised you’d do with me, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”