Enemies with Benefit

Chapter 2

Everyone knew how much I despised him. This wasn’t just rivalry—it was all-out war. He had turned my dream job into a battlefield, stolen commissions, undermined my work at every opportunity, and conveniently ‘forgotten’ to loop me in on major projects. But this? This was unforgivable.

“He’s jeopardizing the biggest launch of my career, Elise.” I dragged a hand through my hair, barely holding myself together. “Jenna’s merch line was supposed to be mine—my project. Months of planning, weeks of coordinating with design and production, all gone. Just like that. All because of one decision he made from his goddamn high-rise office without a second thought.”

I exhaled sharply, my voice dangerously close to shaking. “He signed off on this weeks ago. And now Jenna’s questioning my professionalism because of him. And, of course, I’m the one left picking up the pieces. Not him. Never him.”

God, how had I gone from this to… to whatever the hell happened that night? One minute I wanted to strangle him, and the next, I was—

Nope. Not thinking about that.

I let out a humorless laugh, rubbing my temples. “I swear to God, Elise. I’m actually going to commit a crime.”

And honestly? At this point, I wasn’t even sure if I meant the assault or the fact that I had been in his bed.

Elise shook her head, laughing under her breath. “He gets back Monday, right?”

Two months. Two blissful months of him being in and out of the office, never long enough for me to have to deal with him directly. But that was over now.

I shrugged, voice cold. “This time, I’ll be ready and waiting.” The anger simmered low in my chest. “And when he walks through that door, he’s done. I’m done holding back.”

Big talk, Isabella.

The thought came uninvited, a traitorous whisper in the back of my mind, and I wanted to fling myself off a cliff just for thinking it. I shoved it down, burying it deep beneath my rage.

Elise smirked, resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll have my phone ready. This one deserves to be recorded.”

I slumped into the chair across from her, breathing hard, as if I’d just sprinted across the office. Mason exhausted me, even when he wasn’t in the room. His existence alone was enough to make me want to scream. And yet, somehow, two nights ago, I was tangled up in that existence like it was my damn job.

Elise tapped her fingers against her chin. “You know… there are less violent ways to handle this. Maybe throw a drink in his face? Let karma work its magic?”

I snorted. “A drink? I want to break his bones.”

But somehow, I had no problem letting him put his hands all over me.

I could already picture it—the moment he waltzed back into the office, completely unbothered, pretending like he hadn’t just erased months of my work with a single decision. He’d be so casual, so unbearably smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing. And I’d be waiting. Fists clenched, words locked and loaded, ready to tear him apart. No professionalism. No pretense. Just truth sharpened to a blade.

Or at least, that was the plan. Because, clearly, my judgment was shot to hell.

But Elise’s smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened.

“You ever notice,” she said, her voice light, “that he’s the only one who gets under your skin like this?”

I shot her a warning glare. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying… the intensity, the way he gets to you—it’s almost too much hate. No one else riles you up like this.”

I shot to my feet. “Stop. Right. There.” My voice was low. “This isn’t some twisted enemies-to-lovers story. I hate him. End of discussion.”

I spun on my heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind me with more force than I intended—so forceful, so dramatic, you’d almost think I was trying to convince myself.

But Elise’s words stuck. They shouldn’t have. They were ridiculous. Infuriating. And yet, no matter how hard I tried to shove them aside, my mind turned against me—looping images of him, his irritatingly calm expression, that sharp glint in his eye, like he knew exactly how to push me to the edge.

Because he did know.

And that only made me hate him more.

But, hell, that wasn’t the worst part, was it? The worst part was that I let him. Let him have his way with me like it was nothing. I could barely even remember the details of the night—just flashes. His lips on mine. His hands, everywhere. His touch like it was designed to make my skin burn. I couldn’t even recall how we got from that damn club to the hotel room, just bits and pieces—him carrying me, or maybe I was holding onto him for dear life, but I couldn’t even piece it all together.

And God, why couldn’t I remember? Why wasn’t the shame enough to make it all crystal clear? Was I blocking it out? Or was my body... remembering more than I wanted it to?

I scoffed bitterly. How much had he made me enjoy it, huh? How many ways had he twisted me into a pretzel, playing on every inch of my skin until I didn’t know if I was angry at him... or myself for being turned on by it?

I slammed my fist against the desk, hissing as I let out a frustrated breath. Hate, I kept telling myself. Hate him. I do.

But the damn truth clawed at me—hate wasn’t enough anymore. Not with how I felt about that night. It wasn’t enough to cover up the parts of me that were softening in ways I shouldn’t have been okay with. And the worst part was... I was starting to like it.

God, I needed to be anywhere else. I needed to get a grip. But no, I was just standing here like some stupid fool, letting the idea of him fill up every corner of my mind.

Just as I exhaled sharply, my eyes fell on the bouquet sitting on my desk. Today's flower: white lilies. A soft smile crept across my face, easing the tension in my shoulders, grounding me, but not nearly enough to erase the bitterness gnawing at my insides.

The flowers were a constant—my one steady thing in the middle of all this chaos.

Whoever it was, they never missed a day. The day the flowers started withering, new ones would arrive to replace them. On workdays, they showed up at my office. And on weekends, they were delivered to my door. Different flowers every time, and today, it was lilies.

But why the hell had I let him into my bed?