Page 15 of The Hate Date

Something tells me he’s way too much for my fragile heart.

Chapter six

Joar

Early Evening, The Same Day

I’ve been rock hard most of the afternoon picturing Clover Callahan’s tight, puckered nipples poking out of her sexy pink lingerie top.

I’d preplanned running into her earlier today, but I did not anticipate knocking her down like a brute.

Although, I can’t say I’m sad about it. The nip-slip was the best thing that’s happened to me in…years?

Not going to unpack that shit right now.

While our encounter was short, I learned three things in such close proximity. First, I didn’t imagine it—she’s wildly attracted to me. Second, she’s terrified of that fact, as evidenced by how fast she ran out of the elevator just like she did at the restaurant. Third, the delicious combination of her desire and fear makes me want to fuck her into oblivion.

Even more than I did before.

The overwhelming attraction I felt at the restaurant was definitely not a fluke.

She’s a force of nature. Few people I’ve come into contact with possess the “it” factor Clover exudes from every pore of her body. It’s the type of allure that causes men to lose every ounce of their willpower.

To give up power and concede control.

To sign over millions of dollars of their assets.

She’s met her match in me though. I am impenetrable. Careful. Diligent.

I won’t succumb to her charms.

Not a fucking chance.

I loathe women like her. Users. Climbing up the ladder on the backs of others.

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve known exactly where to find her and where she’ll be at any point during the day. An updated copy of her call sheet is emailed to me every morning. When she’s not at work, Zed keeps me up to date on her whereabouts.

It’s been surprisingly easy to keep track of Ms. Callahan. She rarely leaves the hotel. Aside from the day at The Cactus Club, she doesn’t hang out at bars or venture more than a block or two from her hotel. Doesn’t seem to interact much socially with the cast and crew, though she’s kind and thoughtful on set.

I chalk it up to her trying to keep a low profile. Probably for good reason, if my suspicions prove to be correct. Her ex-husband’s misdeeds are, after all, all over the trades. She obviously doesn’t want to call attention to the fact she was once married to the bastard.

Anyway, I couldn’t resist ducking in to watch her scene earlier today. Admittedly, the woman has talent. She’s friendly. Engaging. Flirty, even. A good actress, obviously.

I didn’t stay long, though. The last thing I want is to be conspicuous. Raise the little bunny’s hackles. As far as she knows, I’m some rando she saw at a restaurant who happens to work here.

Which is precisely how I want it.

What I do is none of her goddamn business.

Until I get the money back, whatever she does is mine.

But, given very recent events—as in the past twenty-four hours—I certainly don’t need to micromanage the situation. I have people to handle shit like this when I have better things to do. Like negotiating a lucrative, billion-dollar media acquisition that fell into my lap.

An opportunity which has changed my priorities. Tomorrow, I’ll be in Singapore to close the transaction, which speeds up my timeline here in Vancouver BC considerably.

So…tonight’s the night.

Clover is currently in her dressing room two floors below my office. The entire facility is deserted except for the two of us. Ronni Miller left ten minutes ago. The crew shortly thereafter. I’ve choreographed this perfectly. One more “chance” encounter and I should be set up perfectly to get some information from her.