22. Olivia
22
OLIVIA
I rolled my eyes at Alex as he held up his glass and said, “To your success… short-lived though it might be.”
“Why can’t you just admit defeat?” I threw back my shot and shuddered as the liquid burned its way down my throat. “It’s okay to say you got your ass beat by a girl.”
He slammed his glass down. “Hey, I don’t have a misogynist bone in my body. Every woman I’ve encountered in the business world is a badass, and they all have my respect. I’m merely trying to drive home that you shouldn’t get comfortable on your high horse yet. You just never know, Liv…”
“Are you threatening me, Alex?”
“I don’t make threats. Threats aren’t necessarily followed through. I always follow through. If I say I’m going to get something… I’ll get it.”
We were side by side at the bar in the same restaurant we’d run into each other a couple of nights ago. After his comment, I turned to look at him. We had one of those stare downs where there was a hint of animosity but also a heavy dose of sexual tension. It was all so confusing. I’d never had the hots for anyone I was supposed to consider my enemy.
“Well, maybe my company is the one thing you won’t get,” I said. “I do appreciate your tenacity though. You were a worthy opponent.”
A slow smile curled his lips, and his eyes twinkled with amusement, which surprised me. He didn’t address my declaration about him never getting his hands on BioTech. Instead, he said, “And you’ve turned out to be a formidable adversary… much respect.”
I raised my eyebrows, not sure how to respond to that. I wish we hadn’t become opponents to begin with. “A compliment from Alex Knight. I didn’t expect that.”
He chuckled. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
I rolled my eyes, and we went on to have a few more shots as we engaged in trivial chatter. The energy was surprisingly calm and easy between us. We avoided all subjects of our past and business, and I was having a nice time. It wasn’t often I went out and shot the shit with anyone other than Elena.
Finally, a waiter approached us with news of a free table. As I slid off my barstool, I smirked at Alex. “I’m surprised your pal Jessica didn’t come over with the news of an available table.” I glanced at the blonde who had shamelessly thrown herself at him the other night. This evening, she was sending him dirty looks. “Trouble in paradise?”
Alex scowled as we walked side-by-side, following the waiter to our table. “I don’t even know the woman, for heaven's sake. Not many take too kindly to rejection, I suppose.”
“Why did you turn her down? From what I’ve read, it seems you don’t turn any woman down.”
Alex scoffed and turned to me with a look of outrage. However, he saw my teasing smirk and laughed. “Taking shots at my man-trollop status… nice, Liv.”
“You call yourself a man-trollop?” I sniggered.
“Hey, you know me. I own my shit.”
Shaking my head, I tried to suppress my smile, but it came through anyway. “You know, I can go over there and tell Jessica you’re not a complete asshole. Maybe you’ll still have a chance.”
“Really? So you’ve gone from being my girlfriend to my wingman?”
“I think exes make the best wingmen.”
“How about we drop this entire awkward topic so you can buy me that dinner you promised?”
I folded my lips as he scowled at me but pulled out my chair like a true gentleman. The truth was, I engaged in banter with him about another woman to hide the fact that if he went home with her for real, I’d tear my freaking hair out. I tamped down my jealousy because I had no right to be. We might never be romantic partners again, but after this evening, I was more convinced that Alex and I could get along just fine.
“This doesn’t seem like a great spot for a bachelor party!” I shouted to Alex over the ear-splitting music.
After drinks and dinner, I found myself touring Manhattan with him, scoping out spots for his friend's bachelor party. It was a strange thing for exes-now-business-rivals to do together, but crazier things have happened…
“Of course, you’d say that!” he shouted back.
I tore my gaze away from the many gyrating bodies downstairs on the dancefloor to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? ”
“It means you’ve never liked places like this. You don’t know how to let your hair down,” he replied with a chuckle. He glanced at his empty glass and then back at our table. “Hang tight, I’m going to get us another bottle of champagne.”
He sauntered away, and I glowered at his back. He thought I was still a prude. Well, I was, but his little laugh made it sound like an insult. He was the one who coaxed me out of my Puritan bubble when we dated, and he’d had to work hard to do it. I didn’t want him to think that I’d lived a downright dull life without him.
Elena said you should never let an ex think you’ve led a less-than-fabulous life since he left. Should I even listen to my borderline insane friend…? The competitive monster in me was irked, so yes, I was going to listen to her. I’d show Alex that I was capable of letting loose and having a great time without his encouragement.
I walked back to our private booth that afforded a little privacy and shrugged out of my jacket. My white silk camisole top with the plunging neckline was sexy enough without the boring black suit jacket. I then rolled my pencil skirt up at the waist to show a little more leg. Taking a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, I quickly took off my pantyhose and stuffed it into my purse, which was barely big enough. Pantyhose was definitely not sexy clubwear.
Looking down at myself, I decided that I looked halfway decent… Hopefully, more like the thirty-year-old that I was and less like the uptight fifty-year-old executive Elena said I dressed like. I tugged my hair from the immaculate chignon it was in and fluffed the tresses around my shoulders. Lastly, I found a tube of lipstick in my handbag—luckily—and used my phone’s camera to apply it. I was still teasing my hair when I spotted Alex coming back to our booth with th e champagne he’d insisted on us drinking since we got here.
According to him, we were celebrating my minor win… asshole… but he was a very good-looking one. He was dressed more casually than I was, and he looked in his element. Women stopped dancing to give him second and third looks, but he didn’t seem to notice them. His attention had zeroed in on me and that made me feel ridiculously pleased… although I knew it meant nothing.
Alex stopped to stare at me. “Liv, what… did you…?” He swept me from head to toe. “Change?”
“No,” I said, taking the bottle from him.
“You look…” His eyebrows puckered as he assessed me again, and I pursed my lips to hide my satisfied smile.
“Yup,” I replied to his unfinished statement. Hopefully, he was going to say I looked nice. As I poured myself champagne, I said, “I’m showing you how wrong you are. I can let my hair down and have a good time in a club. When I said this wasn’t a great spot for a bachelor party, I just meant that it’s too loud. How are you guys going to engage in proper bro time to talk shit… or whatever when you can’t hear each other? Plus, I see absolutely no space for strippers.”
That made him throw his head back and laugh. “Strippers? Charlotte will decapitate me if I hire strippers.”
“Is that the bride?”
“Yes, and I think she knows how to fight, so no strippers.”
Taking a sip from my drink, I hummed, “Still, we should check out a few other spots.”
“ We should?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be ready to turn in after this one.”
“It’s early. Besides, I’m still in a celebratory mood.” With a playful smirk, I brushed past him .
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To dance, of course.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “You don’t dance.”
“You haven’t been a part of my life for almost a decade. What makes you think you know everything about me?”
“You haven’t changed one bit.”
Maybe he didn’t mean for me to hear that because he murmured it and the music was deafening. However, I read his lips and I was annoyed that he might think I was a dull soul, living a painfully mundane life. Maybe I was, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I have plenty of fun, Alex. I… I… dance and… do fun things all the time…”
His eyes gleamed with laughter—maybe because of my defensive tone. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” God, I sounded like a preteen with something to prove to the popular guy in school.
He held me captive with those maddeningly intense eyes of his and then gestured to the empty space in front of our booth. “Then, by all means, dance. I’m sure I’ll enjoy the show.”
We held each other’s gaze as I backed away with my glass in hand. There was a clear challenge in his eyes. He didn’t think I’d really let go of my inhibitions to do something as simple as dance. I’d show him…
Truthfully, I was nervous as hell because, as he said, I didn’t dance. I doubted that I knew how, but I’d silently accepted his challenge and my fierce competitive streak wouldn’t allow me to back out now. It was a good thing the buzz from our first bottle of champagne was starting to kick in. If he wanted a show, I’d give him one.