HATE IN HEELS

5

SIX MONTHS

Grayson

I had dealt with difficult people before.

Christa Smith was different.

She didn’t just disagree with me.

She looked at me like she had already decided I was wrong before I opened my mouth.

It was irritating.

Interesting.

And, unfortunately, becoming addictive.

I stared at the photograph on my phone.

The same photograph that had somehow turned a business rivalry into the favorite gossip story of the week.

Christa’s eyes were fixed on mine.

Her expression was pure irritation.

Mine looked almost amused.

The internet had decided we had chemistry.

The internet was wrong.

Mostly.

I locked my phone and dropped it onto my desk.

A knock sounded.

“Come in.”

Marcus walked inside carrying a tablet.

“The partnership announcement is everywhere.”

“I know.”

“Your name is trending.”

“That happens.”

He gave me a look.

“Your name is trending with hers.”

I looked up.

“And?”

“And people are already calling you two the power couple of the year.”

I stared at him.

“Do I look like someone who enjoys being called a power couple?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still standing there?”

He laughed.

“Meeting in ten minutes.”

I nodded.

“Send everyone in.”

⸻

Christa arrived exactly seven minutes late.

Of course she did.

The conference room door opened and she walked in wearing a black tailored suit, her hair pulled back neatly.

Everyone stood.

She didn’t acknowledge it.

She simply placed a folder on the table and sat.

“Let’s get this over with.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Good morning to you too.”

She looked at me.

“It’s almost noon.”

“Still counts.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

I smiled.

There it was.

That attitude.

We began.

The project was bigger than either of our companies had handled alone.

A luxury development combining hospitality, fashion, retail and entertainment.

VELLORA would handle the fashion and beauty side.

Blackwell Holdings would handle the development.

Simple.

Except nothing about working with Christa was simple.

“I don’t like this layout,” she said.

I looked at the plans.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t make sense for the retail section.”

“It was designed by the architects.”

“Then your architects are wrong.”

One of my executives shifted uncomfortably.

I almost laughed.

“You’ve been in this room for twelve minutes.”

“And I’ve already found a problem.”

I looked at the plans again.

She pointed to a section near the entrance.

“If the luxury stores are here, traffic will be forced through the main lobby. That’s inefficient.”

I studied it.

She was right.

Annoyingly right.

I looked at my architect.

“Move it.”

Christa looked at me.

“You’re agreeing?”

“I know when someone has a good idea.”

“That’s new.”

I smiled.

“Don’t get excited.”

The meeting continued.

For the next two hours, we argued over everything.

Budgets.

Design.

Marketing.

Location.

Timeline.

And somehow, every argument ended with us producing a better idea.

By the time everyone left, only the two of us remained.

Christa gathered her papers.

“You’re less useless than I expected.”

I looked at her.

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

She stood.

I watched her for a moment.

“You know…”

She stopped.

“What?”

“We’re actually good together.”

Her expression immediately hardened.

“Professionally.”

I smiled.

“I didn’t specify.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable.”

“I am not predictable.”

“You are.”

“How?”

“You get angry whenever I get too close.”

She froze.

I stood.

She didn’t move.

I walked around the table slowly.

“Like now.”

Her eyes followed me.

“You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?”

I stopped in front of her.

There was barely any space between us.

She lifted her chin.

“You should move.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to.”

I smiled.

“You’re not very convincing when you’re nervous.”

Her eyes flashed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Good.”

I stepped back.

“Because we have six months.”

Her expression changed.

She looked almost offended by the reminder.

“I know.”

“Six months of this.”

She folded her arms.

“Six months of tolerating you.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

She grabbed her bag.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

“Actually…”

She paused.

“The first stage of the project starts next week.”

“I know.”

“We need to inspect the site.”

“I’ll send my team.”

“I’ll be there.”

She looked at me.

“So will I.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“You’re going?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t need you.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you coming?”

“Because it’s my project too.”

She stared at me for several seconds.

Then she sighed.

“Fine.”

She walked toward the door.

I followed.

“By the way.”

She stopped without turning.

“The site is in Milan.”

Silence.

Then she slowly turned around.

“Milan?”

I nodded.

“Three days.”

Her expression was priceless.

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

“I can go alone.”

“So can I.”

“Then I’ll go alone.”

I stepped closer.

“Then I’m afraid you misunderstood the six-month agreement.”

She stared at me.

I held her gaze.

“We’re partners, Christa.”

Her jaw tightened.

“I hate this agreement.”

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

“I know that too.”

She walked out.

I watched the door close behind her.

For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to a business trip.

And that was probably a problem.