Page 46 of Under Her

Her jaw clenches, working angrily. “Only because I saw right through you. God.” She laughs. “Same old Wilder Cross. And here I was, thinking you’d changed. You sure had me fooled.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you’re still the same shallow, self-centered, womanizing asshole that you were in college!”

“Yeah, and you’re the same stuck-up, judgmental bitch that you always were!”

“Fuck you,” she spits.

“Original.” I laugh. “But maybe that’s the problem, Morgan. Maybe you want to fuck me, and you can’t. Maybe that’s been the problem all along. You wanted to screw me in college, too, and that was why you were so bent out of shape all the time.”

Her eyes narrow like lasers. I know I’m being a dick, overstepping the mark, but she pushes my buttons like no one. She’s always been able to push my buttons.

“God, I hate you,” she bites.

I narrow my gaze on her. “The feeling is one hundred percent mutual, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Thank God because, if you were, my balls would have frozen off by now.”

Her eyes close, and I hate that I can’t see what she’s thinking. She exhales slowly through her nose and then opens her eyes.

“Anything else?” Her tone is so even, you wouldn’t think we were just tearing each other to shreds.

“No.”

“Good.”

Her eyes move to her office door, and I take the blatant hint.

I’ve just opened the door when her voice hits my back. “Where’s Sierra?”

I glance at her over my shoulder. “I sent her home for the rest of the day.”

She laughs softly. “Figures.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you do what’s best for you and screw everyone else.”

That’s like a match to my simmering flame. “Fuck you, Morgan. You don’t know the first thing about me. You don’t get to come in here and speak to me like this after five minutes of working here. Yeah, you might be co-CEO or what-the-hell-ever, but this company is mine, and irrespective of what you think just happened with Sierra in my office, I deserve some fucking respect from you.”

She sniffs. “Respect is earned.”

I give her a pointed look. “Yeah, it fucking is.” Then, I spin on my heel and slam her office door behind me.

I march to my office, ignoring Chrissy, who’s finally reappeared at her desk.

I slam my office door shut, stride over to my desk, and sit down in my chair.

I’m seething.

Who the hell does she think she is? She might be hot, but she’s still a bitch. God, I hate her.

Well, I don’t hate her. But I want to.

I’m sick of lusting over her.