LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) by Mia Carson Page A

delicious.
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    I’d expected to glean some manner of amusement from the arrangement with Mackenzie, but in reality, she behaved like a trapped wild animal in my house. She was impressed with my chef and the omelets he cooked for breakfast, but other than that, she stayed in her room all day. I hired her a stylist, because let’s be honest, she wasn’t going to make the impression I needed her to without one. The stylist went in, and as the hour got closer and closer to seven, I started to worry.
    I dressed myself and sat at the island in the kitchen, running my fingers over the flecked marble countertop. I wanted us to be late enough to make a notable entrance, but I didn’t want to be rude. I heard the door open upstairs, and in that moment I was convinced I’d made a terrible mistake. I should have stuck with Giuliana, even if it meant buying stock in Grey Goose and having palates of it shipped to my door.
    Mackenzie appeared in the kitchen doorway and took my breath away. Her floor-length gown was a glittering, royal blue material, strapless, with a heart-shaped bodice. A matching shawl draped over her shoulders. The stylist had curled a gentle wave into her thick brown hair, and it hung loose to the tops of her breasts.
    “Wow,” I said. “You look great.”
    “Thanks.” Mackenzie blushed and smiled a little. For a heartbeat I think we’d forgotten we didn’t like each other.
    I made a spinning gesture with my finger, and she twirled, the skirt of the dress billowing out around her. “You look amazing.”
    “You said that.”
    “It bears repeating.”
    We headed to the elevator. “So what kind of artwork will be at this opening?”
    “Honestly I have no idea. I don’t know art.”
    “I can tell.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    She sighed. “Every one of your pieces looks like you chose it because it was expensive, not because you care about it.” She sighed again. “Did you even pick them, or did some designer?”
    “The designer.” I felt more chastised than I expected to over it.
    “None of them are you. The colors match, but there’s no personality. If you’d spent a few hours at some of the galleries downtown, you could have spent far less and gotten pieces that fit the décor just as well but that actually say something about Scott Creed.”
    “Like what?”
    “I certainly don’t know. I just met you.” The coldness crept back into her voice, then, and she crossed her arms in such a way that pressed her breasts up. Her cleavage plunged miles deep.
    I was tired of women being upset with me, but on this day I deserved it. I ran some numbers in my head. Maybe I deserved it most days. I shoved the pesky thought out of my head.
    “So what’s your plan?” Mackenzie was all business now. “We show up, we tell everyone we’re married, we toast, we mingle, and we go?”
    “You have somewhere better to be?”
    “Aren’t you worried I’m going to embarrass you? I’m one of five kids. I wash bread bags so I can reuse them.”
    “Five kids? Damn.”
    “I know nothing about your people, or what to talk about, or anything.”
    “You’re aware of what the weather has been. Everyone’s favorite small talk. ‘This spring has been unseasonably cold this year, don’t you think?’ You have an art degree. Surely you can say something articulate about the art we’ll be looking at. Be positive, even if you don’t like it. The artist will be there, and we don’t want to upset her.”
    “I’m not an asshole. I’m not going to trash-talk an artist at her opening.”
    “I’m trying to do damage control before I need to.”
    “If you’re worried about damage control, maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
    “I’m well aware this isn’t a good idea, but you’re getting scads of money out of it, and I’m getting the glowing approval of my future business partners.”
    “Do you even need this merger? You’re not, like, going broke, are you?”
    I laughed as the elevator doors