Love to Hate You Read Online Free

psychological advantage helps, and indeed I must have surprised him, because he gives me a look of genuine astonishment. But it only lasts a second, because it almost immediately turns wary and dangerous, and the eyes that were clear before become veiled and hazy.
    It's funny, but I'd never realised the effect my physical presence has on him. One second I was looking at a perfectly relaxed man, and now in his place there's an enemy, ready to attack.
    Ian is sitting comfortably in his black leather chair, his guarded face lit by his PC screen. My eyes immediately fall on his unbuttoned collar and loosened tie and the huge sheaf of papers he is holding in one hand, which he dumps on the table as soon as he notices my presence.
    â€œWhy knock if you're not going to wait for me to answer, I wonder?” he asks, thinking aloud.
    â€œDo I really have to tell you?” I reply, sitting down in the chair across from him.
    The corner of his lips curls up in a hint of a smile. “Of course not – you know very well why: you knocked out of respect for the formalities, but didn't wait for my answer so that way you'd have the advantage of surprise. Isn't that right?”
    I force a smile. Yes, it is. Of course.
    I have to be honest: Ian's brain has always been a problem. I can usually outwit most people, but in his case his perfidious intelligence almost matches my own. Which is very annoying.
    Ian relaxes his shoulders and sinks into the chair.
    â€œTo what do I owe the honour?” he asks, peering at me with those blue eyes.
    Now that I'm here, I don't really know where to start. In my mind I'd built up a sort of outline of what I was going to say, but now it's as if my mind is blank.
    â€œYou're not here to thank me, presumably?” he asks sarcastically, the little snake.
    â€œThank you?” I ask in shock. “For what?” My voice has suddenly got very loud. Ian chuckles. “This morning, for having saved your arse with Beverly—” he points out.
    I interrupt him instantly. “I saved
myself
with Beverly, actually.”
    â€œOf course, but only because my being there softened him up for you. So you could
save yourself
,” he emphasises.
    Part of me knows that he's right, but he's caused me so much grief that it would take a thousand more good deeds like todays to even the score between us.
    â€œLet's get one thing straight – I would have managed perfectly well myself even without your annoying presence, Ian.”
    He glances at me doubtfully. “That remains to be seen, dear lady.” The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine.
    For a moment we just stare at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away but eventually Ian breaks the silence. “Well, I'd love to stay here all evening but, alas, in ten minutes I have to be out of the office as I have a date, so I'd ask you to get to the point,” he says in a voice which is suddenly cold. He's finished with the pleasantries.
    â€œThe point is Beverly,” I say, clearly. “He wants us to work together on his portfolio.”
    â€œOf course he does,” says Ian as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “he's heard that we are the two brightest brains in the whole department and he wants both our contributions. I can understand that. You can develop your project and once you've finished pass it over to me and I'll see if I can suggest any improvements,” he says calmly.
    And it's strange, because Ian is anything but a predictable man. In the worst sense of the term, of course. “This bimbo you're taking out to dinner tonight has obviously got you all hot and bothered, but do try to stay focused for a few minutes,” I snap back.
    My sentence obviously stings him, because he immediately leans out of his chair, grabs my wrist and comes dangerously close to my face.
    â€œBimbo?” he echoes angrily. In his eyes I can see literal flashes of blue.
    And it makes me