5. Evilla

Chapter five

Evilla

M ont Montfield has this look on his face.

It's half wary, half I don't know what to expect, with a pinch of please don't be a paranormal kind of shifter and turn into an alligator and eat my ass on the spot.

I don't look welcoming. I'm not welcoming. Because we are not going to get along. He found out where I work, and he ruined my life on purpose. It's creepy, and it's not okay. It's never going to be okay. Nothing is going to be okay again now that this man is my boss.

This meeting slash battleground happens to be a coffee shop, and at the last minute, Mont changes direction. He doesn't approach me. He goes to the counter and orders something, probably a black coffee with no sugar and no cream. The extra bitterness would serve his personality just fine. If he were a coffee himself, he'd be entirely unpalatable—extra dark, just like his soul.

I wasn't sure he'd come. I put that card on his desk as kind of a Hail Mary to be professional. I don't want our personal problems getting in the way of my career.

What am I even saying? Personal problems? We shouldn't even have personal problems. I don't even know if I have a job anymore, let alone a career to worry about.

He's probably suspicious that I told the barista working up there to throw a dash of arsenic into whatever a man who matched his description—tall, dark, deliciously assed in the ass department, way too hunky in a black dress shirt and dress pants, probable mommy issues with a side of possible daddy issues too, and burning dark eyes—decided to walk in and order.

Obviously, I didn't because I'm not into harming people and going to jail, and also, half this city could probably match that description.

I wouldn't have gone into detail about how the rest of his muscled body looks positively divine in his clothes or how, right now, he looks wickedly broody enough to make all my lady bits swoon on the spot.

Too much information.

Also, why the hell can't I stop ogling his ass?

Mont turns around, coffee in hand, and I snap my eyes back to the table. I don't have to fake being worried and pissed because I've been in a natural state of that since I found out about his hostile takeover.

"Hello, Not Genevieve," he says in a smooth, deep voice that sends a spicy shiver racing through me.

"Hello, Mr. Hostile Takeover, Grudge Holder, Take Things Way Too Far, And I'll Buy A Company, But I Won't Tell My Mother To Stop Ruling My Life."

He drops into the chair with too much grace. He's absolutely lethal as he sits there, and I can't stop noticing. It's a thing, and my vagina hasn't gotten the memo that this is the enemy. We do not get fluttery about the enemy. Shivery, tingly, whatever…

She's getting tingly. Who knew a vagina could also literally be an asshole?

"That? No, I did have a conversation about it. I said I was off the market because I had met someone. And it's pretty much love at first sight. All the swooning, all the heart-stopping stoppage, and all the mushy and gushy and romantic things. I said that I think she's the one."

What the fuck-a-duck? He's not still playing at this fake girlfriend bullshit, is he? If that's what this is about, he's not going to be successful in backing me into a blackmail corner.

I like to pretend I'm not heading straight for that corner. My back is not touching the wall. I'm perfectly casual, and I get my outraged mutter on. "Mmm. So you couldn't just be honest?"

He's so smooth that he doesn't even crack a miniscule expression. "That'll come later. After I get my heart stomped all over when it doesn't work out with my current love interest and when I'm taken off the market for good because I need time to heal and get myself back together. I'll throw myself into work—a legit excuse because I just bought a new company—and eventually, because I'm not looking and not being forced, I'll meet a nice woman for real. A woman who would never dream of tearing my heart out. A woman who loves me for more than just my money. A lovely woman who has a great sense of humor and is unfailingly honest ."

"Oomph. Sounds boring. But then, having to fake losing one's heart and then getting it broken is also pretty boring. Count me out. You can make up a woman for months and not have to worry about introducing her to your parents before delivering the bad news. They never even have to meet her."

"The thing is, my mom is a little like a bloodhound, and I've already given her your name. She's looked you up, so she knows where you live and where you work."

Do not do the mouth drop. Do not. Do not gape at him. Do not give him the satisfaction.

"Then she'll know it's a conflict of interest."

"She won't mind that in the least. She's so excited that we'll be working together, or at least distantly together. This is a new chapter in my life. She can't wait to meet the woman who got me excited about a new business venture and gave me a new lease on life."

"In a week?"

"It's technically been ten days."

A whole bunch of head shaking. That's me, sitting there like a broken doll with my neck lolling all over because I've somehow lost a heck of a lot of stuffing somewhere along the way, and I didn't even notice. I came prepared to dictate the terms, and somehow, he's turned this all around. He's had too much time to think about it. A lot can happen in a week, I guess.

A lot has happened to me, too. Most of it has been anxiety and horror-based, and it's all because of this too-handsome man with the overly smug expression. I'm not going to agree to this, but I need to get out my metaphorical shovel and start digging myself out of this ridiculous situation.

It's time to lay it all out on the table. "I've decided that should you do anything to meddle with my job or future prospects at the company, or my prospects anywhere else in the world with any company, I will report you for harassment. If you've already told your mom about me, she'll believe it. Or at least wonder if it could have happened. You might not lose credence with the rest of the world, but she'll never think of you the same way again. You'll disappoint her, and a mom's disappointment is not cool." His eyes flash. Ooh, I've poked the bear. But now that I've started, I can't stop. "Don't worry. It won't be sexual. I would never lie about something like that. I think the truth would be worse. That you blackmailed me into being a fake girlfriend at the risk of losing my job. I'll tell her how I faked being Gen so she could get out of a date she never wanted to go on in the first place and how you were so spiteful that you bought the company I worked at just to get me under your thumb. Yeah, that's a pretty ugly truth, no? I think it would leave a bad taste in everyone's mouth. Sure, I'm the jerk who faked being my bestie to take one for the team, but you're the epic mega jerk who took it to a whole different level when he could have just left things alone, had a good laugh, and gone on his merry way."

He swirls the coffee in his paper cup. Black. I knew it. Coffee preferences tend to match a person's soul. I'm buzzing with my ability to read a person when I notice a teabag string sticking out the backside of the cup. It's not coffee at all. It's black tea.

Huh.

What?

"You're quite nasty, you know that?"

"Me?" I jam a finger into my chest. "Uh, what? You're the one who bought someone else's company and offered more money than they could ever refuse because they didn't want to sell, I might add. You're the one who wants to blackmail me into being a fake fiancée, or I'm out of a job."

"I never said that. I never even thought that."

No, I'm not letting him get away with this. It's absolutely not going to be a thing. He did think it. He had to have thought it. That was his whole master plan.

"I think there's room for both of us at your bougie pudding company, Miss Not Genevieve."

"Please don't call me that." Nope, that's not me getting huffy at all. Whatever. I have a right, don't I? Buying my place of employment was an act of war, wasn't it?

"Alright, Evillllll-ahhhhhhh." He has this thing about drawing out the last part of that horrible mispronunciation of my name.

"My pudding company isn't bougie. You, of all people, shouldn't even be using that word. It's a word used to describe people like you. That's like…like a cat making fun of other cats for being a cat."

"I do humbly apologize," he says over a sip of his tea. Earl Grey. Jesus, does this guy have to like the best tea there is?

"You don't humbly apologize. There's nothing humble about you."

He shrugs. "Nevertheless, we can make this work. I have something you want, and you have something I want."

"Blackmail never works out for anyone."

"It isn't blackmail if we're helping each other. It sounds more like a mutual understanding or even a friendship to me."

"Do I strike you as the kind of person you would ever be friends with?" I huff.

"Absolutely. I have all sorts of friends," he responds with a smirk.

"You're a poo pants, that's what you are."

He grins, and I know I'm not doing myself any favors here. I'm fighting a losing battle. Maybe I've been losing all this time. "Poo pants or not, I need a fake fiancée, and I happen to know there's a position in the company I just purchased that you put your name forward for."

"No."

"There isn't a single part of the company that I haven't been very well informed about. I'm extremely thorough when I purchase something to make sure I know everything that's going on. I'd be a very poor leader if I didn't care, and caring means knowing even the smallest of details."

I want to tell him to shove the small details up his ass. I want to tell him that he doesn't care a fig past his own agenda. There's a whole lot I want to say, but after hurling out immature insults like poo pants, maybe silence is best.

I try and give him my scariest, glaring face.

But all it does is make him smile more, damn it.

What does it say for me that I can't even get a glare right?

"I think we could find something that works for both of us. You put in a few appearances over the next few months as the love of my life when it's required, and I, in turn, will promote you to head of your department."

"That's so transparent!" I choke. "And awful! If we're fake dating, everyone would know you promoted me just because I'm—" Cutting that off is probably best for all parties involved. "Connected with you," I finish, the words bitter and awful in my mouth.

"You applied for the promotion before I took over the company."

"So did other people. I'll be chosen over them just because I'm supposedly sleeping with the company's new owner. That's just…no. No thanks. I don't want to beat anyone out unfairly. I'm good at my job. I'm really good at my job. I deserve that promotion. I've done amazing things for the company, and everyone knows it."

"Then everyone would also know that you got the promotion on your own merits."

Goodness freaking help me. My face is so hot. It's beyond nice hot rock massage hot and straight into the bowels of hell hot. If only I could have foreseen what doing a teeny, tiny favor for Gen would result in, I never would have done it. "That's not what they would think or say."

His smug smile should not look borderline adorable. I don't know anyone else who can be so self-important and still have their eyes flash that honey, golden brown. It shouldn't be allowed to be a thing. One should not be able to look like they think they're a king and also like someone you'd want to tell your secrets to because they seem like a genuinely good and open person you can trust. This man is not a good person. He's the kind of person who should just figure out how to solve his problems legitimately, no matter how difficult they are.

I know a mom's disappointment is a real thing, but really? This is just extreme to the point of extreme. Extreme squared.

"What if I told you no one else applied for the position, so there was no competition?"

"Ahhhh!" My frustration boils up and bubbles out of me before I can stop it. At least I prevent myself from exploding out of my chair. Is he for real? I thought there had to be other people, even though I didn't hear anyone say they were going to apply. People don't always announce that shit. "You knew that this whole time!"

"Not until I took over the company."

"I. Am. Not. Helping. You. You're awful. You're the actual worst. Seriously. Just disappoint your parents and live with it. The rest of us do. The world will still turn, and you'll still own a pudding company and be all rich and have your money to keep you warm and content at night. But our lives?" I do the waving hand gesture again, and fuck, why does that make his eyes sparkle even more? "They're never going to intermingle in any way."

"So what? Instead of helping me and taking a job you clearly want, as well as negotiating something I'm more than willing to give if it's in my power, you'd rather just quit and not have a job at all?"

"I would rather quit than work with a nasty man at the helm of the company anyway. You're going to drive it into the ground. You're going to destroy something I love. You're going to take something we all love and make it something wretched! Something horribly wretched. Something horribly poopy wretched."

"Maybe the next flavor of pudding you come up with should be poop since you like it so much. It could even come in a special packing, shaped just like a cartoon bottom."

So much for not rising to any of this. Because I want to rise. I want to rise so badly. "Everyone already thinks chocolate pudding is poop anyway, so that's very unoriginal of you. People like good pudding flavors. Not nastiness. You're already ruining something that was amazing."

His grin just gets wider, and my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. Did I really just throw away everything I've worked my ass off for? Yes. Yes, I did. But so what? I can find another job. I'll work my way back up from the bottom if I have to. At least the money will be honest. I'll be honest, and I won't be working for a totally epic jerkhole.

Even if I have to take a pay cut.

Even if I have bills to pay.

Even if this company is kind of like another home, and the people here are like another family to me.

"You can take your fake girlfriend and—" Don't say shove her. That would just be immaturity on top of immaturity. "And find her somewhere else. I'll have my notice submitted to HR in an hour, effective immediately."

There's not even a flicker of fear on his face that I might make good on what I said about filing a harassment claim. Have I been harassed? Maybe. Did he attempt to blackmail me? Sort of. Will I go straight to his mom and make things a hundred times worse? No. No, I won't. It wouldn't be right.

This whole thing might not be right, but I'm not going to make it worse. I'm going to be the bigger person because that's who I always am. I have a good heart. I care about the world. I love my friends and family, and I do what I can to help out wherever I can and whenever I can. I know I could cause a lot of trouble for this man, but honestly? I'd rather just suck it up, find another job, and get on with my life. Is it fair? No. Was what he did petty and mean? Yes. Do I have to resort to the same level? No.

No, and I'm not going to.

I'm putting this in the past. All of it.

Tomorrow, I'll start fresh, and one day, this will be the tipping point that pushed me into the job I was always meant to work at, and I'll be in a position in my life that I was always meant to be at. Then, I'll find someone, and they'll be absolutely perfect, and it will all be because I took the higher road, just darn well carried on, and made a great life for myself.

"Don't worry," I say with as much fake cheer and bravado as I can muster at the moment, which isn't a heck of a lot because my eyes are burning, and my chest feels compressed. This is hard . This hurts, and it absolutely sucks. "No one will put two and two together. When new ownership happens in a company, or when hostile takeovers become a thing, there's generally a lot of shakeups, and some people inevitably quit."

I manage to look confident in my decision until I'm outside, with my back to the coffee shop. I don't look back because I know if I turn around, Mont will see how rattled I am. He'll see how much my heart hurts.

Doing the right thing isn't easy for a reason, but I'm strong. I'll get through this.

I literally have no other choice.