Page 5 of The CEO I Hate (The Lockhart Brothers #1)

MIA

“ U gh, can you believe him! He actually accused me of telling Jake about yesterday, like I’m some toddler who ran home crying because he was mean to me!” I slumped down further into the corner of the couch where I’d been fuming for the last fifteen minutes.

Thankfully, my shared apartment was just down the hall from Jake’s, so I’d promptly marched myself home and started ranting to my roommate about Liam.

I hated that one cocky smirk or snarky comment from that man could incite such rage in me.

Sometimes I just wanted to grab him by that chiseled jaw and?—

“Maybe you should have told Jake and then he could have told Liam where to shove it,” Sophie called from the other room.

“I don’t need Jake to fight my battles for me. I’m perfectly capable of telling Liam where to shove his six-foot-two, perfectly tailored, annoyingly smug self.” Preferably right back into his mansion in Studio City, where his ego had its own private suite.

“Okay!” Sophie announced, strutting into the living room like she was headlining a Vegas revue, rocking four-inch stilettos and a burlesque costume straight out of a 1920s cabaret.

The royal blue velvet corset was laced at the back with satin ribbon and adorned with so many rhinestones it freaking dazzled .

The thing was making me dizzy with the way it sparkled. Delicate little black feathers lined the sweetheart neckline, adding a touch of old-school glamour. “What do you think of this one?”

My jaw dropped. “It’s friggin’ gorgeous.”

“Right?” She shoved the coffee table aside and did a sensual little spin, showing off every inch of rhinestone-clad skin. Sophie had zero body shame, and it was totally normal for her to experiment with new costumes for her burlesque acts in the middle of the living room.

“I wasn’t sure the blue would be bright enough, but with the amount of sparkle, I don’t think I have to worry.”

The lavishly embellished corset was snatched so tight, Sophie’s already incredible curves had been contorted into the perfect hourglass. It was paired with a frilly, fringed skirt with tiny silk shorts underneath and a pair of long satin gloves.

Burlesque performer, roommate, and co-owner of a secret speakeasy, Sophie Alvarez was the only person I knew who could carry on a conversation about taxes and grocery shopping while also dropping it low.

There was a reason she was my best friend, and it could be summed up by the time she’d threatened to ninja kick one of my ex-boyfriends when he’d shown up to harass me at the club. And then actually done it. He left with a bruised ego and a limp. I left with cake.

“The bust has so many sparkles I’m having trouble looking away from your boobs.”

Sophie laughed. “Because they’re fabulous.” She did a little shimmy for emphasis.

“This new costume designer is fabulous,” I said .

“Agreed. I think I’m a little in love with her.”

I got up to pluck at the tag tucked into the back of her corset. “Sultry Stitches by Sierra,” I read out. “Oooo.”

“I know; I’m about to order one in every color.”

“I’m jealous. If I had the body to pull this off, I’d totally want one.”

“Girl, you have a bangin’ body. I keep telling you. Let me get you up on stage, and you can listen to the crowd howl.”

That was literal nightmare fodder. “God, can you imagine?”

“The tips?” Sophie said. “Yes. I’d make a killing.”

“I’m talking about me obviously pitching myself offstage. We both know I don’t have the coordination for that. It’s why I write and you dance.”

Sophie smirked, disappearing for a beat. When she returned, she was dangling something sultry, red, and sparkly from her finger. “Put it on.”

“Absolutely not,” I said, horrified.

“Absolutely yes .” Her smile was positively wicked. Sophie was always pushing me to take risks, and at moments like these, I wasn’t sure whether I loved or hated her for it.

I took the corset from her, pulled my tank top over my head, and slid into the silky material. It slipped like butter against my skin, and I let my hands drift down the fabric as Sophie turned on her speakers.

Cher’s “Strong Enough” poured out, filling the apartment with the kind of thumping beat that made me want to take even my terrible dance moves to the floor. Sophie returned to lace me up, spinning me around to face her when she was done.

“God, you look so hot. ”

I inhaled sharply. “I’m not sure I can breathe.”

“You don’t have to be able to breathe. You just need to be able to shake things on beat.

Let the va-va-voom seep into your soul.” She marched across the living room, letting Cher’s magnificent belt feed into every movement before pausing like a fashion model, one hand on her hip, the other held aloft for an invisible microphone.

Before my very eyes, she twirled and ripped away her skirt, tossing it at the imaginary crowd on the couch, leaving her in those teeny-tiny shorts.

I blinked in surprise as sparkly strips of material flew around the room.

Apparently, Sophie’s costume had been designed for a strip tease. She twerked at her imaginary audience.

“This thing isn’t going to spontaneously combust, is it?” I tugged at my own corset. The last thing I needed was for my bits and parts to be airborne.

“You’re fine. Yours isn’t designed to pull apart. Not like mine. Ugh, I love this,” Sophie said, pulling at more hidden snaps and strips of Velcro. Her costume came apart piece by piece.

And then she was standing there in nothing but her shorts and tassel pasties.

They were also bright blue, adorned with more little rhinestones. She dropped her hands to her hips with a satisfied grin. “You know, there’s just something empowering about being half naked in a room.”

“If you say so.”

“It makes you realize it’s all about owning the space. Like you did with Liam yesterday.”

“I was definitely not naked in the coffee shop,” I said. That thought made me flush, probably the same color as the corset I wore.

She took my hands. “No, but I’m still really glad you stood up for yourself. ”

I snorted. To anyone else, this would look strange. But with Sophie, this was just a regular day—nipple tassels and all. “I hear a but coming.”

“ Buuuuuut ,” Sophie sang, turning away and dragging in a chair from the kitchen that she sometimes used to practice her routines. She threw her leg up onto the seat, doing a sexy kind of stretch.

“You shouldn’t let what Liam said get to you so much.

Caring that much about his opinion gives him power over you.

And what do we not do? Say it with me now.

” She clapped out each word. “Let. Men. Make. Us. Feel. Bad. For. Existing. We deal with enough shit, we don’t need to let them inside our heads too. ”

“I don’t care that much,” I muttered, plopping back down on the couch as Liam’s words echoed in my head. Truthfully, they’d stung more than I wanted to admit.

What was the last real writing job you had …God, what a complete ass! It was the kind of thing my parents would have said, though in their case it would not be to hurt me intentionally, but to point out they’d always been right—that I’d picked a risky, unreliable career.

“I’m just saying,” Sophie continued, “you need to take your power back. That’s the only way you’ll stop thinking about what he said.”

“Oh, I plan to. In the next update of Heart and Hustle .” I was already envisioning a scene with Miles playing out in my head. It involved a bucket of oat milk, Carrie -style.

Sophie smirked at the look on my face. “Let me guess?—”

A knock on the door interrupted what she was going to say. She paused Cher, then danced over to the door and peeked out the peephole. Her face lit up like she’d just spotted a pinata full of bad decisions.

She threw the door open wide, fully rhinestoned and gloriously unbothered .

“Well, isn’t this an unpleasant surprise,” she said.

It was Liam. I could see his face from where I was seated. I was actually a little impressed that he didn’t seem flustered by Sophie’s near nudity. I knew she was trying to rattle him, but all he did was look past her to lock eyes with me. “Can we talk?”

Oh, so we were doing this.

“I don’t know, can we?” I said, voice sweeter than antifreeze. “Or are you just going to whine about Miles some more?”

Liam opened his mouth but managed to bite down on his retort, stuffing it beneath his signature scowl. “I think we can manage to have one productive conversation.”

What the hell did productive mean? Did this have something to do with Jake’s recovery?

I tried to help out as much as I could, but I got the sense that Jake held back with me, protective as always and not wanting me to worry.

He’d be more honest with Liam. Maybe he’d told Liam something Liam thought I needed to know?

Sophie glanced back at me, her eyebrow raised. I nodded once. She gave Liam a sweeping, theatrical wave like she was inviting Dracula into her boudoir. “Come on in, Miles.” She refused to call him anything else, and it filled me with glee. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

She shot Liam an exaggerated wink before she collected the pieces of her costume and danced away into the bedroom.

I only remembered I was still wearing her borrowed corset when Liam’s gaze dropped to take me in.

I wanted to shrink in on myself, but instead I straightened up, immediately crossing my arms, masking my embarrassment with annoyance.

I scanned him for anything in his appearance I could criticize, anything that would level the playing field.

But Liam, damn him, looked as perfect as ever.

My eyes flicked over the way his linen shirt clung to the lean muscle of his broad frame, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, and those dark brown eyes.

Sometimes it felt like that gaze would tear right through me.

Pull it together , I told myself. Don’t give him the power .

“Come to tell me more about all the flat stereotypes in my writing?”