Page 90 of Hate to Love You
“Abby.”
“What?”
“You keep calling me Abigail,” she says, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “Which is fine, because that’s my name, but I prefer to go by Abby.”
I grin.
“Alright,” I say slowly. “Well, Abby, just consider it a business lunch,” I say, sadistically enjoying watching her squirm. “I’ll be sure to give you the receipt so you can file the expense report when we get back to the office. Since two grown adults enjoying a meal at the best restaurant in the city is going to be an issue, apparently.”
“It’s not an issue!” She snaps at me, frustrated. “I just was confused because you didn’t give me any heads-up.”
“As you already know, my schedule doesn’t allow for much of a heads-up these days,” I say matter-of-factly. “I have to work with what I have.”
“Okay, well that still doesn’t explain why you’d invite me?” She shrugs. “There’s always men coming and going from your office, or you know, you could’ve sent me to pick up takeout for you.”
“Is that what you’d prefer?” I ask, my heart beating a little faster. “Does the idea of lunch with me make you that uncomfortable?”
“No!” she sighs, exasperated. “I guess I just don’t understand why you’d even bother with…me.”
Oh, little fox, I very much enjoy bothering you.
But I suddenly realize that perhaps after my cold and callous demeanor with her all week, kidnapping her for lunch, might actually be a bit confusing. And, even though I really am enjoying watching her seesaw between being sassy and confident, to nervous and fidgety, it might not win me any points in her book.
I need to try a different approach.
“Look,” I say, swallowing hard. “Truth is, I wanted to bring you to lunch because I owe you an apology.”
“What?” She gasps. “An apology? For what?”
“My ridiculous family, especially my cunt of a sister,” I say, feeling Abby’s gaze on me. “It’s my way of saying thank you.”
Abby stares at me, before snorting quietly to herself. And as silence settles over the car, I feel the static electricity return.
“What are you thinking?” I say, trying my best to make it sound more like a question and less like a demand.
“I’m shocked,” she quips, her nervousness seeming to dissipate. “Wow. And here I was starting to think they didn’t teach you things like gratitude in fancy CEO School.”
There’s my feisty little fox.
“I’m just out of practice,” I say, throwing on my black aviators. “Usually in my line of work I’m used to people saying it to me.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Well, they alternate.”
“Alternate?” Abigail asks.
“Between saying thank you,” I grin, turning to her as I bring the car to a full stop at the light. “Or begging for mercy…On their fucking knees.”
I glance over at her, watching her arrogant little grin disappear.
“Oh, and by the way, Abby,” I say, lowering my glasses to look her up and down. “Your skirt is still too fucking short.”
“Right this way, Mr. Antonov,” Cassandra, the attractive hostess, says politely.
“Holy shit,” I hear Abby say under her breath as we walk through the crowded restaurant.
“What is it?” I ask, seizing the opportunity to once again put my hand on her lower back.