The Office Rival: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

“Haden, thanks for nothing. Now get out of my way.”

I spend close to an hour in the bathroom cleaning my blouse while standing in my bra, trying to dry off under the hand dryer. My heels tap impatiently against the floor tiles. Argh! The nerve of him. And to make it worse, what kind of a line was that?

I replay the words in my head, ignoring the lingering sound of his voice. So what if he sounded sexy? He’s just playing his usual games. Lately, he’s been really getting on my nerves with the extra unwanted attention he gives me.

Thankfully, I borrow a blazer from a fellow employee and button it to cover the stains. Providing the room stays at the same temperature, I can manage.

The boardroom is filling with colleagues, and I prepare my materials, ready to stand at the front of the table. Having done this a dozen times, it has become second nature. Halfway through my presentation, the air becomes stifling hot, and my armpits start to stick to the blazer. Did someone turn up the heat in here. It’ll be all right as long as I don’t sweat where anyone else can see.

As I look at others seated around the table, some are peeling their jackets off while others use a piece of paper to fan their face. My eyes scan the table for the remote to the air conditioning unit but can’t spot it for the life of me.

There are a million questions asked, and normally I enjoy answering, but today I am a bitch in heat and ready to tear that smug look off Haden’s face. It’s clear this presentation won’t end as quickly as I want it to, so I take the jacket off and watch as everyone stares at my stained blouse with curiosity.

“Enough with the staring, a moron spilled tea all over me this morning.”

“Sounds to me like you need to pay more attention to those around you.” Haden snickers.

I shoot him a death stare, ready to tear into him again. No one dares to question me further, so I carry on and wrap up as quickly as possible.

Making my way back to my desk, I slam my notebook and pen down, nearly missing the showdown that’s happening beside me.

“I know you don’t want me to come up here, but you’ve been avoiding me.”

As the familiar voice continues, I lean my head slightly to see Trina at Haden’s desk.

Why am I not at all surprised that the douche is none other than Haden. Of course, he would do something like this. Young, irresponsible—thinks with his dick and not his head.

The voices become muffled until Trina storms off, visibly in tears. I give it a few moments before standing to confront him. He is leaning casually over Dee’s partition, and from what I can see, she is flashing some major leg. You’ve got to be kidding me. Even though it’s none of my business, I head over to where he’s standing.

“Wow, it’s like you have no moral conscience whatsoever.”

“What’s your problem now, Malone?”

“You just don’t care about anyone but yourself. I mean look at me, you don’t care that you’ve ruined a brand-new blouse that cost me a hell of a lot of money. Then you embarrass me in front of everyone in that presentation. And to top that off, you treat Trina like last night’s takeout box.”

Dee is shocked at my outburst and carefully pulls her skirt down to cover herself up. Haden is livid, and I swear if you look closely, you can see steam coming out of his ears. His eyes have narrowed behind his glasses, and to control himself, he runs his hands through his dirty-blond hair.

“Some mouth on you, Malone. You better watch your back. Human Resources would deem that as harassment.”

“Harassment? I’m the victim here. Not you!” I storm off, having spent enough time and energy on him that I forgot all about my best friend, Vicky. She is sitting on my desk when I return, all smiles and giggles, having returned from Paris only yesterday.

“Ah… Mademoiselle Malone,” she says in a thick, but fake, French accent.

Defeated, I slump in my chair. “Tell me about Paris in your normal voice, please?”

She sits on the corner of my desk, crossing her legs appropriately. Vicky and I met a couple of years back through mutual friends. At the time, she was having an affair with the biggest loser to walk this earth—a married man with three kids. It ended badly, so from that day on, Vicky vowed to never get into a serious relationship again and is happy to play the field.

“The shopping was fantastic, totally maxed my credit card. The sightseeing was awesome and the men… Pres, like seriously, the French men know how to make you scream so loud, I swear the people at the top of the Eiffel Tower could hear us.”

“A one-time type of thing?”

“You know me, Pres. I like my men foreign. Keeps the fantasy alive.”

“But aren’t you worried about what could happen after?”

“Like what? I’m always protected, you’ve got to make sure both of you understand it’s a no-strings-attached kinda night. Anyway, I met this guy, Jean-Phillipe, and he’s been texting me all day.”

Distracted by her phone, she types something ridiculously fast into it, then places it on the table.