Chapter 7
Axel
On Thursday, Liam fired Daiel Cane, after twenty years of employment.
That’s not the part that bothers me.
What bothers me is the way Liam looks at Addison now. Like he actually gives a shit what she thinks.
On Friday morning, he brings her coffee without being asked. On Monday afternoon, he agrees with her strategy in a meeting when two weeks ago, he would’ve pushed back. On Tuesday, I walk past his office and catch him smiling at something she said.
Smiling.
Liam.
Nolan notices, too. He won’t stop raising his eyebrows at me every time Liam’s nice to her.
I tell myself I don’t care.
But I do care. She is the one who cost us a lot of money and a lot of time. And even if Liam is being nice, I can’t stop provoking her.
I can’t figure out if I want to hate her or fuck her.
Every meeting she walks into—when it’s just us—I find the angle that’ll make her snap. I question her strategy, undermine her conclusions, and point out the holes in her logic. Real or invented, doesn’t matter.
I’m not stupid enough to do it in front of clients. Daniel tried that, and Liam fired him. Bad for business. Bad for the company we’re trying to rebuild.
But behind closed doors? That’s a different story.
She fires back every time, and that’s the problem.
Most people back down when I come at them this hard.
She doesn’t.
Addison gets sharper, meaner, and more precise with every argument.
It’s like she’s been waiting her whole life for someone to fight back this way.
On Tuesday, she calls my social media approach “reckless brand suicide” in front of the entire marketing team.
On Wednesday, she rewrites my press talking points and sends them to Liam with a note that says she fixed the liability issues.
On Thursday, I tell her the rebrand pitch she’s working on will bore investors into early retirement.
She deletes my comments from the shared file and adds one of her own: “Axel’s feedback has been noted and dismissed.”
And somewhere in the middle of all that fighting, I started noticing things I shouldn’t. The way her mouth tightens right before she eviscerates my argument. How her voice goes quiet right before she proves someone wrong. The flush that creeps up her neck when she’s furious.
On Friday afternoon, we’re in a strategy meeting.
Liam’s reviewing a communications plan about a new company acquisition at the head of the table. Addison is presenting from the front of the room, and Nolan is taking notes to Liam’s right. Mason and Pauline are here too, but they’re background noise.
All I see is her.
She’s wearing a red blouse today. Fuck, she looks amazing.
Halfway through her third slide, I interrupt. “This won’t work.”
Actually, her ideas are fine. I just really like it when she fights back.
She stops mid-sentence and turns to face me. “Which part?”
“All of it.”
Liam exhales through his nose. “Axel.”
I ignore him and keep my focus locked on her. “You need something that will get more clicks.”
Addison crosses her arms. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” I shrug. “Then why does our engagement spike every time I post something provocative?”
“A million clicks means nothing if they’re from people who don’t matter. This targets the ones who do,” she responds.
I stand and move around the table toward her.
She steps away from the presentation screen to meet me halfway.
Liam stands up and abruptly ends the meeting.
“We’re done here. Addison’s plan is great.
” His voice has that edge that means he’s losing patience with me.
“Mason, send me the revised projections by the end of the day. Pauline, schedule the board prep meeting for Monday. Nolan, I need the initial analysis on that new green energy company you’re looking into. ”
Mason clears his throat and starts gathering his things.
Pauline’s already halfway out of her chair. Smart woman.
Nolan and Liam follow Mason and Pauline out.
The door clicks shut, and Addison’s still standing three feet away from me with her arms crossed.
“Are you done?” she asks.
“Nope.”
She turns toward the door.
“Running away?” I ask.
She stops and pivots back to face me. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
She moves away from the door. “I’m not running from anything.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“What is your problem?” She takes a step closer. “You know my communication plan is solid. You’re picking a fight with me, just to argue.”
“You love this,” I say quietly.
“Love what?” Her voice comes out rougher than usual.
“Fighting with me.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” she answers.
I smirk. “Then why are you still standing here?”
Addison doesn’t answer my question. “You should leave.”
“You first.”
Neither of us moves.
Her stare drops to my mouth for half a second, then snaps away.
Too late.
I saw it.
“You piss me off,” she says.
“Good.”
She steps closer. “You’re arrogant.”
“You’re rigid.”
Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I drop my voice. “Then why are your hands shaking?”
Her eyes narrow in defiance. “They’re not.”
“My eyes tell me they are.”
“Get out of my space.” But she doesn’t move.
“Make me.”
Her eyes flash. “I hate you.”
“Prove it.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it.
Then she grabs my collar and pulls me down, slamming her lips to mine.
The kiss is fury and frustration and something desperate underneath. Her hands fist in my shirt, and she’s pulling me closer. Her mouth is demanding and furious.
Fuck.
I grab her waist and haul her against me. She makes a sound—half gasp, half groan—and heat shoots straight to my dick.
Her nails dig into my shoulders through my shirt. I turn and press her against the wall. She bites my lip hard enough to sting, and I groan into her mouth.
Her hips shift against mine.
This is so fucking wrong. And I don’t care.
My hand slides up her ribs, and she arches into the touch, breathing hard against my mouth. Her fingers twist in my hair and pull.
The sharp pain makes me harder.
Then she shoves me.
Hard.
I stumble backward and catch myself against the table.
Her mouth is red and swollen. She’s against the wall, breathing hard. And fuck, I want her.
“That was a mistake.” Her voice shakes.
“Felt pretty fucking intentional to me,” I respond.
Her chest heaves. “We can’t—”
“Too late.”
“No.” She pushes off the wall and straightens her blouse. “That didn’t happen.”
“It did.”
“It won’t happen again,” she retorts.
“You sure about that?” I touch my bottom lip.
She grabs her bag from the table and heads for the door.
“Addison.”
She stops but doesn’t turn around.
“This isn’t over.”
“Yes. It is.”
“You can lie to yourself all you want,” I say. “But we both know you’re gonna think about this tonight.”
Her shoulders tense. Then she walks out, and the door slams hard enough to rattle the frame.
I stand there with my pulse hammering and my lips still burning, and I’m hard enough that walking’s gonna be uncomfortable for a while.
Liam can have his smiles and his coffee deliveries. I’ll take this.