Chapter One
Pretending For My Enemy CEO
Avery
Finally, I’ve got a shot at that son of a bitch!
Somewhere between dodging potholes and fantasizing about punching Liam Parker in his smug, billionaire face, I glance at my gas gauge and realize I’m running on fumes.
“Perfect,” I mutter, gripping the wheel tighter. “Let’s add ‘stranded on the side of the road’ to the list of ways my life can get worse today.”
Chicago traffic snarls ahead like always, an endless sea of brake lights. The kind of chaos that makes you question why humans invented cars in the first place. My ancient Toyota groans in protest every time I tap the brakes, and I swear I hear the engine whisper, please put me out of my misery.
But I don’t have time to baby my car.
I’m too busy rehearsing what I’ll say in the interview at Parker Construction. My shot at infiltrating the company and getting revenge is so close I can taste it.
I’m mentally drafting an excuse for why I’m late when I see the brake lights ahead glow red, too fast, too sudden. My foot slams on the pedal and… too late.
The crunch of metal on metal is sharp, echoing through the busy streets of downtown Chicago. My head jerks forward, and my sunglasses fly off my face. My heart slams into my ribs as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
Oh no, no, no. Please tell me that didn’t just happen
I look up, and the car in front of me comes into focus. It’s not just any car. It’s one of those cars you look at and instantly know it’s a classic, a pristine shade of black that probably costs more than my entire life.
My stomach sinks.
The door swings open, and out steps a man who looks like he walked straight out of a Wall Street wet dream, his movements slow, controlled. The kind of calm that screams dangerous. He turns, and my mouth drops open.
Oh crap, Liam Parker.
I recognize him instantly. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed to kill in a tailored suit and crisp white shirt, the kind that screams, I’m too rich to deal with your shit. His dark brown hair is perfectly messy as if he pays someone to make it look like he just rolled out of bed, and his eyes lock on me like lasers.
He moves with an effortless arrogance that comes with knowing the world bends for you.
Unfortunately for him, I don’t.
Fuck! Of course, it’s him. Liam Parker. The guy I’ve been obsessing over, not in a fun way, but in the I’m-going-to-take-you-down way. He just had to be the guy I hit.
How do I even play this?
I roll down my window, forcing a smile. “Well,” I sigh, gesturing toward his car, “this is awkward.”
Liam stares at me like he’s debating whether to strangle me or sue me. Probably both.
His gaze sweeps over me, assessing, calculating. His eyes are a sharp, piercing blue, the kind that leave you bleeding before you even realize you’re cut.
“This is awkward? You rear-ended me, and the best you’ve got is, ‘this is awkward’?”
I need to make a memorable impression.
“Would you prefer ‘Oh no, I’ve ruined your day and your precious car, please don’t have me executed’?”
A muscle ticks in his cheek.
“Would you believe me if I said it’s not as bad as it looks?” I try for a smile.
He doesn’t smile back. “Are you kidding me?” His voice is low and rough, like gravel on a rainy night. “Do you have any idea what you just hit?”
I step out of my car, smoothing down my pencil skirt and blazer as if looking professional will somehow salvage this disaster. “A car?”
His jaw tightens. “Not just a car.”
“An old one?”
“Jesus Christ! A 1965 GTO. Original everything. You don’t just hit something like this and walk away.”
“Well, technically, I didn’t walk away. I got out to talk to you.”
“Cute,” he deadpans.
I cross my arms, leaning against my sad little Toyota as I take him in. Up close, he’s even more irritatingly perfect. Broad chest, sharp jawline, a five-o’clock shadow that somehow makes him look more powerful, and a wrist sporting a watch that's close to a hundred thousand dollars. I know; I once saw it on Amazon.
But I’ve got bigger problems than how annoyingly attractive Liam Parker is.
“Look, I’m sorry about your car, okay? But if we’re being honest, you were not parked right and—”
“I was at a red light.”
“Well, maybe if you’d been parked less aggressively, this wouldn’t have happened.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious. Who even drives a car like that in Chicago? It’s like taking a Fabergé egg to a demolition derby.”
“Unbelievable. You’ve really got some nerve.”
Okay, dial it down, Avery. Don’t completely alienate the guy.
I glance at the damage; his bumper has a small dent. It's hardly the apocalypse he’s making it out to be. “It’s a scratch. You’ll live.”
“It’s a vintage car. Do you even know what a scratch costs on a car like this?”
“Let me guess: your monthly dry-cleaning bill?”
He doesn’t laugh. Figures. Guys like Liam Parker don’t have a sense of humor; they have spreadsheets and offshore accounts.
“It doesn’t look that bad.”
He follows my gaze to his car, and I swear I see the vein in his temple throb. “That bad? You just put a dent in a classic—” He stops, inhaling sharply, then exhales through his nose. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Let’s just exchange insurance and get this over with.”
We exchange numbers.
“You’re feisty. I’ll give you that,” Liam says, eyes flicking over me like he’s sizing me up for battle.
I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “And you’re obnoxious. We’re even.”
He doesn’t crack a smile, and I wonder if he even knows how to smile. The man’s face is so tight there’s no single wrinkle or crow’s feet in sight.
“Where the hell were you even rushing to?”
“Funny you should ask,” I say, leaning against my car. “I’m on my way to your office, actually.”
“What?”
“Serendipity.”
“What?”
“It means—”
“I know what the damn word means!”
“Whoa, chill, grumps.”
“What the hell are you heading to my company for? Wait, did you hit me on purpose?!”
“Of course not! I was gonna go in for an interview for the event planner position for your company gala. I was called in. Parker Construction, right?”
He stares at me like I just told him I’m running for president. “You rear-end my car, and now you want me to hire you?”
“Sounds about right.”
He blinks, clearly stunned by my audacity. “Oh, you’ve really got nerve.”
Well, this is undoubtedly a memorable first impression.
“I’ve got experience, too. Planned events for high-profile clients all over the city. Gala-worthy stuff. You can’t afford not to hire me.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches me, which does something weird to my stomach, like he’s seeing more than I want him to.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re welcome. For the free consultation, I mean.”
He studies me for another long, charged moment. Then, to my surprise, he nods. “Fine. Meet H.R. for your interview. But don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you for my car.”
“And don’t think this means I’ll grovel for the job.”
His lips twitch, just slightly, like I’ve surprised him. He glances at his car again, shaking his head before climbing back in. As he drives off, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I turn, heading back to my car, my heart pounding and adrenaline buzzing through my veins. This is perfect. A better in than I could’ve planned.
Inside my car, my phone buzzes on the seat. I grab it and see Stella’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.
“So? Did it work?” she asks, skipping the pleasantries. “How was the interview?”
I glance at the spot where Liam’s car just disappeared. “Let’s just say I made an unforgettable first impression.”
“Good unforgettable or bad unforgettable?”
“Does it matter?”
She laughs. “Nope. As long as you get the job.”
“I’ll know by tomorrow.”
Stella’s voice softens. “Avery, you’ve got this. You’ve been planning this for years. Parker won’t know what hit him. Remember, this is Plan A. If you don’t get the job, we move to Plan B.”
I swallow hard. “I have a feeling this will work.”
As I hang up, a knot tightens in my stomach. Liam Parker has no idea what’s coming. But tomorrow now, I’ll walk into his company and get the job.
And then I’ll destroy him.