Hate On: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Read online

  “Of course.” Roman resisted the urge to snort. “If I’d known all that was required to get the early look was stating an obvious fact, we’d already have that first look secured. Or maybe I was supposed to bat my lashes at Edgar.”

  “Try that next time,” Father suggested. His eyes flicked from Roman back toward the hall.

  Roman followed his gaze and saw that Julianna had stepped out into the hallway with her father.

  Wow. Those legs…

  Roman entertained a brief fantasy of having those legs wrapped around his hips, only to have it interrupted as his father said, “We have to get the first look, Roman. I want you to do whatever it takes to get that first look.”

  He glanced at his father and saw a look of complete sincerity in his eyes. “Whatever it takes,” he echoed.

  “Whatever.” Michael rose to his feet and smoothed down his tie, taking his time with it. Then he slanted a look at his son, adding, “It will be worth it, if I know anything about the Templeton family. This is our only chance, son. Don’t waste it.”

  He didn’t bother pointing out to his father that he rarely wasted an opportunity and never one that was going to benefit the family or the company. He already knew that.

  Together, they headed back into the boardroom and Roman paused as Julianna approached, giving her a slow smile. He already had a prime idea on just how he’d approach this, assuming she was open to it.

  She hesitated a bit as she drew closer.

  She didn’t stop, didn’t exactly pause—she just…slowed, her eyes resting on Roman’s, appraisingly.

  Roman returned her look with a hard gaze of his own, but let her see something that he wouldn’t have normally shown.

  Appreciation.

  But if he was expecting her to blush or stammer, he was clearly looking at the wrong woman. Julianna Castle inclined her head and met his gaze levelly, their eyes holding for a long moment. Then, as a smile curled her lips, she let her gaze roam over him briefly.

  Heat touched everywhere her eyes did.

  While he was processing the magnitude of that heat, she turned on one spiked heel and strode into the boardroom. Under the slim fit of her pencil skirt, her hips swung from side to side in a seductive come-hither.

  Oh, he wouldn’t mind coming hither.

  Let’s get this show on the road, Roman thought, interest stirring inside him.

  He thought idly of the small girl he’d once known.

  But the girl she’d been and the boy he’d been, they were long gone.

  From the time they’d rejoined the meeting, everything seemed to move at lightspeed. Julianna sat with her father, Charles, and from time to time, one of the two would ask another question. It was Julianna, though, who asked the majority of them, something that intrigued Roman.

  Roman only had one or two, while his father had one right after the other, each one designed to try and wheedle more information out of Edgar, but he was a canny old bastard. Roman doubted his father had managed to get much of anything useful.

  The legal teams took over, adding in their two—or ten cents—but for the most part, everything had been settled before the initial break.

  Roman spent most of that time contemplating his approach to Julianna after the meeting.

  He sent a text to his father on the sly, letting him know he’d linger after the meeting.

  To his credit, his father didn’t ask why.

  Michael probably had an idea of what Roman was up to, but he wouldn’t ask. The old man probably knew better. Or at least he knew enough about Roman to know it was better just to let the man work.

  As the meeting came to an end, Roman kept an eye on Julianna, planning on his moves for the night, how she might react, his counter-reactions. Roman was a man who liked to have everything aligned and thought through all the alternatives before he made a move.

  It was almost second nature as he made his move then.

  Her father had already slipped outside, after pausing to drop a kiss on his daughter’s cheek.

  Roman’s father lingered an additional few minutes before following the same route Charles Castle had taken.

  The legal teams had already departed, leaving Roman to linger over his briefcase and coffee while Julianna spoke to Edgar in low tones.

  He’d already picked up on the fact that the materials, the prototype and several samples would be in her hands by the end of the evening.

  That told Roman everything he needed to know.

  He timed his movement toward the door perfectly, using their body language to judge when their conversation was drawing to a close. He kept his pace deliberately slow and by the time he reached the elevator halfway down the hall, Julianna was just a few steps behind him. He glanced up, feigning surprise when she stepped into the elevator with him. “I thought you were still talking with Templeton.”

  She gave him a cool look as if she knew exactly what was going on behind his eyes.

  “Guess I should learn to speak up a little quicker,” he said with a grin full of chagrin. “I could have been the one getting first look at it.”

  “You’ll know better next time,” she said easily enough.

  But she kept her dark eyes on the rows of brightly lit buttons on the elevator’s polished wall.

  The rest of the elevator ride passed in a silence as Roman decided he was going to have to try a different approach.

  “You know, I’ve never been able to understand why our families had to have this rivalry between them,” he said softly, staring at his reflection in the golden doors. As they slid open, he stepped to the side to let her step out.

  She glanced his way before doing so, and he took that as a positive sign and fell into step next to her.

  “There is plenty of room for both of us in this world. Especially with Templeton bowing out of the race,” he added, giving her a quick wink.

  She smiled a little and shook her head. “They aren’t closing their stores. I don’t think you can call them out of the race per se.”

  “True. But without their own mines, they won’t be as competitive. You and I both know that.” He slowed his steps and was pleased when she did the same. Gesturing at the posh bar just to his left, he asked, “Why don’t you join me for a drink, Julianna?”

  She hesitated and he fired a grin at her. “Come on. Our parents will be retiring at some point and it’s going to be the two of us leading our family businesses from then on out. I’d much rather have a friendly competition than this knuckle-dragging hatred our fathers seem to have.”

  At that, she laughed. “Maybe one drink. I’m not much for knuckle-dragging myself.” She waggled nails polished the shade of the world’s finest rubies at me. “It messes with my manicure.”

  A few moments later, as he followed her and the hostess to a table, he was treated to an intoxicating inhalation of her scent—and a delightful view of her ass under the narrow pencil skirt she wore. Pencil skirts—he loved them. As she slid into the plush, padded booth with its high back, he entertained the brief fantasy of slipping the skirt up over her ass and burying himself deep inside of her.

  His trousers tightened uncomfortably and he casually slid a hand into his pocket, hoping to disguise his sudden arousal. “I’m going to make a quick run to the washroom,” he said, nodding at the hostess and Julianna. “Order their best scotch for me, would you? Straight up, no ice.”

  “Of course.”

  He ducked into the restroom and pulled out his phone, making a couple of discreet calls, watching the time so he didn’t spend too long taking care of the matters at hand.

  He would have liked to be more thorough, but he was under a time crunch as it was, so he left the rest of the matter in capable hands and slipped out of the restroom just as a scotch was being put down in the empty space opposite Julianna. She spied him coming and to his pleased surprise, she greeted him with a smile.

  That was a start.

  There was business to see to, but he’d never minded mixing
business with pleasure.

  4

  Julianna

  One cocktail turned into two, which turned into an invitation to dinner at a sweet little Italian place in Midtown.

  Her driver let her out in front and Julianna started to think she’d wasted time going home after she’d wrapped up her business for the day to put on a sleek black dress that was sexy in an understated way.

  It definitely looked like she was overdressed.

  She quickly learned she was wrong, because while the place looked like a hole in the wall, it turned out to be a gem.

  Julianna turned to Roman with a delighted smile. “This place is beautiful,” she exclaimed.

  It looked like an Italian grotto, complete with columns and greenery. Small strands of lights stretched overhead.

  It wasn’t anything like the posh, but somehow rigid environment she’d expected from Roman Montrose.

  He grinned at her, that slow smile tugging at things she was better off not thinking about, considering who he was. “Why do you sound so surprised? I’m a master when it comes to picking out all things beautiful, Julianna.”

  There was an intimacy to his tone that had her fighting back a shiver.

  “Hmmm…” She managed to summon up a note of skepticism and withdrew her arm from his as the hostess approached.

  They were escorted to a table tucked in the back, partially shielded from the rest of the diners by the greenery carefully positioned around the table. Roman pulled out Julianna’s chair and she sat down, trying to ignore the flutters in her belly. She hadn’t felt butterflies like this since her last date. Actually, no. She hadn’t felt butterflies like this in several dates. She couldn’t remember the last time, really.

  Feeling them with Roman Montrose was unsettling.

  What would her parents think?

  “Do you mind if I select a bottle of wine?” Roman asked, picking up the wine list lying in the middle of the table.

  She gestured at him, indicating he was welcome to do so. She doubted she’d drink much of whatever wine he ordered. She had what her mother referred to as a plebeian’s taste in wine—the sweeter, the better.

  But she could suck it up and pretend to enjoy whatever dull vintage he ordered. She could even make all the right comments about the nose and the bouquet.

  Several minutes passed as bread was brought out, the wine was served and their glasses filled with sparkling water. She took the glass of wine when he lifted his.

  “We should drink to the future,” he said, crooking that amazing grin of his at her. His eyes, the palest of blues, held a warmth that added to the flip-flops going on in her belly.

  Instead of saying anything out loud, she just lifted her glass to his.

  To her delight, the wine was wonderful, rich and tart, the hint of sweetness making her want to grab the whole bottle and keep it away from him so she could enjoy it all.

  “That’s excellent wine,” she said, sighing happily.

  “The family who owns the vineyard are friends of mine,” he replied. “I’m glad you like it.”

  She reached out and turned the bottle around so she could see the label, tucking it inside her head so she’d remember it.

  “I imagine your father was glad when you decided to join the business with him,” Roman commented.

  She glanced at him. “Of course. Wasn’t yours?”

  They spoke about their respective families for just a few moments and when a brief lull came, Roman leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with an intense, penetrating gaze.

  It was so intense, she had to fight the urge to squirm.

  “Do you remember when we met in Switzerland?”

  She blinked at him, the question surprising her utterly, it was so completely out of the blue. “What? When did we meet in Switzerland?”

  “You were young,” he replied, circling the rim of his wineglass with his fingertip. “Five, maybe six. I think it was about eighteen years ago.” His brow furrowed as he contemplated the number, finally nodding. “Yes. It was when I was still playing soccer and that was the last year I played. So, eighteen years ago.”

  “When and how did we meet?”

  A rueful grin curled his lips and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you don’t remember any of it.” With a lavish sigh, he straightened up in the seat and leaned forward, smiling at her. “You were in the hospital because of your asthma. I had gotten my head hit pretty hard and had a concussion. They wanted me in for observation for a few days because the headaches were so severe. Unfortunately,” he started, and paused, his face softening. Then he added, “Or maybe fortunately for me, there was a bad problem with a strep outbreak. You and I had to share a room for a few days.”

  “Why would they put me with you?” She looked confused.

  “The strep outbreak,” he said patiently. “Besides, we were kids. I was eleven. You were six. It wasn’t like we were going to tell these adults no. And our parents hadn’t gotten to Europe yet.”

  “Man.” She rolled her eyes. “I bet Papa freaked out over that.”

  “Not as much as my father did.” He lapsed into silence for a moment and she studied him, wondering about the muscle that jerked in his jaw and the shadows that fell across his eyes.

  He stirred finally and shrugged. “Anyway, those first few days, we talked a lot. I read you books, told you stories. You liked my stories.”

  Some blurry memory tried to come into focus. “Somebody at the hospital taught me to play solitaire,” she murmured, thinking of the boy she could only vaguely remember. A dark mop of hair and bright, pale blue eyes. “Was that you?”

  “Ah, see?” Roman wagged a finger at her. “You do remember me.”

  “I don’t know if you can call what I have in my head a memory,” she said lightly. Then she shrugged. “I imagine it hurts your ego thinking a girl might have forgotten you.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then to her surprise, he started to laugh.

  “Perhaps that’s true,” he said once the laughter faded. “I’ve always thought myself to be rather…unforgettable.”

  She imagined so. Those eyes, his hands…her gaze strayed involuntarily toward his mouth just as he went to take a sip of his wine.

  He noticed too. He didn’t put the wine back down. Instead, he took a drink and when he lowered the glass, there was a drop of the rich red liquid clinging to his lower lip.

  She felt a pang in her lower belly as he caught it with his tongue. “I have to say, Julianna,” he murmured. “You’re quite unforgettable yourself.”

  The magnetic pull she felt toward him was indescribable and when he reached out to brush his fingers across the back of her hand, she would have sworn she felt that touch in parts of her body not connected to her hand.

  Heat sparked inside and she tried to banish it, but it wasn’t going away.

  She was saved momentarily, the tension of the moment melting away as their server passed out their plates.

  She almost sagged her shoulders in relief.

  The respite brought on by the arrival of dinner was brief.

  The conversation between them had gone from friendly to…something else entirely in practically the blink of an eye. She couldn’t even really put her finger on what had caused the change.

  Even something as simple as eating one of the breadsticks that had been served with her dinner seemed to be laden with a sexual charge that heated her flesh and shortened her breath.

  As she closed her lips around the crusty end of the bread, Roman’s lids drooped and a heavy breath escaped him. She noticed that he hadn’t eaten much of his meal and as she put down the breadstick, she gestured to his plate. After dabbing the crumbs from her mouth, she commented, “Don’t you like the fettuccine?”

  “I’m finding myself hungry for…something,” Roman said, his voice lower, rougher.

  The heat inside her threatened to explode, and she reached for her glass of wine, only to find it empty.

  “Let me.”r />
  She looked up as Roman reached for the bottle of wine—it was the second one they’d had opened and she was probably on her third or fourth glass now, but she didn’t think that was why her head was spinning. It had more to do with the way he was watching her, more to do with the heat pulsing inside her.

  She sipped her wine, lingering over the ripe, fruity taste before letting it slide down her throat.

  “I’m not all that hungry myself,” she said as she lowered the glass.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Hmm. I think I’ll go use the ladies’ room.” She slid from her chair, pausing for a moment to make sure her legs would stay under her before she started to walk.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” she told her reflection.

  It didn’t matter that the man out there was beautiful and seemed to eat her up with his eyes.

  She didn’t know him.

  Their families were entwined in what could only be described as a bitter, ugly feud.

  Sure, that didn’t have to involve them—she didn’t even fully understand why her parents and his couldn’t stand each other. She personally had nothing against Roman and judging by the way tonight was going, if she’d met him anywhere outside of how they’d met, if he wasn’t a Montrose, she’d probably fall for this heated flirtation playing out between them.

  So why let your family stop you?

  She stared into the eyes of the woman in her reflection, trying to understand just that. It was a simple question. And yet…it wasn’t.

  Before she had time to come up with an answer, the door opened, admitting two women, both of them talking in excited, low whispers.

  She nodded at them as she stepped back from the sink.

  She needed to get back out there anyway.

  To her surprise, she found Roman lingering near the grotto that housed the restrooms.

  He caught her hand, and before she could so much as blink, he tugged her toward him. “I hope I don’t have to apologize for this,” he said in a low voice just before his mouth closed over hers.