shuhaige
Chapter 28
The receptionist blinks, startled by my unbridled hatred.
Brad, of course, doesn’t look at all surprised. He knows exactly how I feel about him-and why. But he’ll never pass up an opportunity to make me look like a crazy bitch.
“What, not even a hello?” he asks, feigning hurt.
Too bad I don’t care how I look. Everyone in this building is loyal to my family; I can afford to deal with Brad first and explain myself later.
“You don’t deserve one. Leave now.”All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.
He looks down his nose with a condescending smile. “Oversensitive as always . . . how unprofessional. I have a right to be here. My father’s in the market to acquire a new subsidiary, so I’m here to pay your board a visit.”
“This company still belongs to the Tate and Cane families. You can’t buy a single brick in our building yet, and until that day comes, you’re just snooping around. Wait your turn like everybody else.” It’s bad enough that WBB was allowed in . . . and I don’t have a gory personal history with them.
His sneer deepens into overt disdain. “You can’t treat me like this. I was invited here.”
“And I have the power to un-invite you. So you can slink right back to your corner office and crawl into Daddy’s lap like you always do.”
Brad’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. He snarls, “You dried-up bitch-!”
I scoff audibly. If I ever was dried up, whose fault does Brad think that was? He should have looked up foreplay in a dictionary sometime.
With a twinge of childish satisfaction, I note that the receptionist is now staring in shock at Brad instead of me. Then I’m filled with shame at my pettiness. This is what Brad reduces me to. One minute in his presence, and I’ve stooped to his level. As if the years since our breakup never happened.
At my derisive noise, Brad pulls his features back into haughty coolness, under the cover of straightening his tie. I remember-all too well-his insecure need to maintain control at all times, even if it’s only the appearance of control.
“You might want to be a lot more careful about how you speak to me, Olivia.”
The obvious threat spooks me a little. But I can’t let him know how much his venomous voice still affects me. I force a laugh, knowing that will drive him ape-shit.
“Or what? You’ll bore me to death?”
To my surprise, his smirk doesn’t slip an inch. “Trust me. It’s in your best interests to cooperate with my company.”
Does he actually have something up his sleeve? On the one hand, I don’t want to get drawn into his mind games. On the other . . . my curiosity is piqued.
But before I can decide whether to venture a question, the front door opens and Noah comes in. He stops midstride, looking back and forth between us, obviously sensing something rotten in the air.
“What’s going on here?” he demands.
“Nothing,” Brad replies before I can explain anything, his tone light and his smile polite. “Just talking shop.”
“Oh, really? Is that why I could hear a man yelling all the way from the elevator?”
Brad’s smile instantly drops. “Who are you?” he asks, as if Noah were the one intruding.
“I’m Noah Tate. Olivia’s fiancé and co-CEO. Now, who the hell are you?”
I mentally roll my eyes a little at Noah’s lack of subtlety. Especially the way he said fiancé instead of boyfriend. But mostly, I’m just relieved to have some backup, no matter how silly his testosterone-fueled territorial display is.
Brad stares Noah down for a moment, obviously not wanting to roll over and acknowledge his authority too fast. Finally, he replies, “Bradford Daniels. Vice president of Daniels Multimedia Enterprises.”
“And he was just leaving,” I interrupt.
I see a muscle twitch in Brad’s jaw, but he continues talking to Noah as if I never said a word.
“I’ve heard of you, Noah. The late Bill Tate’s son. You two seem to have hooked up right before news of Tate & Cane’s . . . difficulties got out.”
Noah’s next words echo my thoughts. “Are you implying something?”
“Not at all. Just commenting on a stroke of bad luck.” Brad drops his voice to a conspiratorial mutter-although it’s certainly not low enough to stop me from hearing every insult. “In more ways than one. Between you and me, my friend, I don’t envy you. She’s about as exciting as a wet towel in bed.”
Noah’s eyes fly open wide and his face flushes crimson. Instinctively I shy back; I’ve never seen him so angry.
Mistaking his fury for astonishment, Brad continues. “Oh, you haven’t found that out yet? But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s always been such a frigid-”
In a flash, Noah has Brad pinned to the wall, his arm twisted behind his back. And all I can do is gape, paralyzed with shock.