Page 93 of Scandalous Contract

If he listened when we talked, he’d know that. I glared at my name on the cup. I’d rather drink sewage water than drink anything he’d purchased. Turning around, I walked out without touching anything.

The first-floor café didn’t open until seven. I could wait. Better to wait than to give Hudson something to throw in my face later. I took the side hallway to avoid walking past him again, but he must’ve expected I’d do that, because there he was striding in my direction.

His entire demeanor screamed entitled. I kept my eyes forward. If I ignored him, maybe he’d walk past without saying anything.Wrong!His weak ass stepped right in front of me.

“Did you see the cup in the breakroom with your name on it?” he asked.

“I did.” I stepped right.

He moved in front of me. “I got you your favorite coffee,” he said.

“Peppermint mocha?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. That’s your favorite, right? See,” he delivered his most dazzling smile. “I remember everything about you.”

I tilted my head. “In the wintertime, I drink peppermint mocha because it reminds me of snowy Christmas days. During the summer, I prefer something else.”

He blinked, like the concept of seasonal preferences was too complicated for him.

“Really? I mean, it’s coffee. It’s hot no matter when you drink it. Right?”

Once again, what I said hadn’t mattered. “Thanks for the coffee, but I don’t want it.”

I stepped to the side to pass him, but he mirrored my move, still blocking me. He took a deep breath and released it slowly before speaking.

“Stefanie, I’m stretching out an olive branch here. Can’t you accept it?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“That’s not a reason.”

I took a deep breath. “Actually, it is. I don’t want to is a valid reason, Hudson. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want you. Why can’t you understand that?”

An expression came over his face that I’d never seen before. He took a step forward.

“I’m about tired of that mouth of yours,” he started.

I stepped back, my pulse quickening. The look in Hudson’s eyes wasn’t just anger. It was something darker.Hatred!Despite what he said, this man hated me. It was written all over his face.

His words hung in the air, heavy and threatening. Before I could respond, the security guard’s voice cut through the tension.

“Ms. Adams?” he called out.

Hudson’s posture shifted instantly. He forced a smile, shoulders relaxing as he shoved his hands into his pockets. If you looked up the definition of toxic masculinity, you’d see a picture of him.

“We’ll talk later,” he whispered, his tone strained.

“How about no,” I said loudly, not willing to whisper to save his pride.

Though he was forcing a smile, the look in his eyes told the real story. Hudson didn’t want to date me. He wanted to own me. He wanted me to be one of his pretty possessions with no wants, dreams, or desires of my own.

Not happening. Ever. Stepping around him, I moved toward the guard who was holding a large cup of coffee and a bag from Insomnia Muffins, one of my favorite coffee shops.

“This was just dropped off for you,” the guard told me.