? Hate or Fate ? {Enemies to Lovers}

.62.

My blood was replaced with ice water at the chill in her voice.

We were in the far corner of the ballroom, closest to the bathrooms and the adjoining kitchen doors. I scanned the ballroom hoping to catch Rebecca's eye, but I couldn't spot her towering red hair anywhere in the shadows. 

"Tell me, Isla," Maleficent continued. "Why did you feel the need to document my husband's behavior with human resources?"

I blinked a few times, giving myself a moment to process the crazy talk that just tumbled out of the life-size villain in front of me. The giant ice cube in her glass clinked as she held up a gloved hand to take an elegant sip.

"I didn't talk to HR," I finally managed to tell her. "Did someone file a complaint against Braxton after the shoot?"

"Oh, don't play stupid with me," Maleficent snapped ruthlessly. I could smell the stale whiskey clinging to her gums as she stepped even closer. "I know girls like you. Hell, I was you! I've watched you since day one, Isla, and I've seen your little brain working, trying to figure out how to ascend to my chair. Did you think sleeping with my husband was going to be the way to do it?"

My knees buckled at her accusation, flipping my stomach in on itself. Bile burned as it crawled up my esophagus and had me choking my reply.

"Maleficent," I rasped. "I've never slept with Braxton, nor have I ever wanted to sit in your chair."

"I find that hard to believe when you seem to be doing everything in your power to sabotage our most profitable account," Maleficent snapped. "First you try and sleep with my husband, then, you bed our photographer. What's next? Are you going to offer a threesome to our clients?"

I could only guess where she was getting her information, but unfortunately, she'd cornered me when we were alone, so there was no way to confirm that Braxton was to blame.

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I tried to find a thread of reason to cling to.

Braxton had ruined the reputation of more than one young woman at CD&R. In fact, Maleficent had to ban him from working with the female interns completely after the complaints to HR started piling up. If a woman threatened to tell the truth, (or worse, she rejected Braxton outright) he made it his mission to trash her name with every agency in Seattle, and he knew people at quite a few high-profile shops. 

Worse still, Maleficent did nothing to stop it. She had just as much power as her husband, and she knew that Braxton was no choir boy, yet she chose to take the side of the feckless liar she married.

Well, that dickweed had messed with the wrong kitty!

The intimidation Maleficent usually inspired was burning off in the flames of my growing resentment. 

I was tired of baseless accusations and Braxton's blatant harassment!

As crafty as a cat burglar, I reached into my fanny pack to find my phone and tap a few buttons.

"Are you seriously texting while I'm speaking to you?" Maleficent demanded as her voice dropped into a hazardously low pitch. "You listen to me, Isla. If I find out that it was you who filed that complaint with HR, I'll fire you myself. In fact, I will take great pleasure in marching you out the door and smearing your name like shit with everyone in Seattle. Hell, you won't be able to find work in the Western Hemisphere when I'm done."

"Maleficent," I tried to reason with her. "I absolutely did not file a complaint with HR about Braxton, even if I had every right to."

"Please," the whiskey-laced venom in Maleficent's voice could have melted my face. "Brax showed me the dirty little text messages you sent him. I especially loved the one where you suggest getting down on your knees to beg?"

"Ew!" I exclaimed, openly gagging as if I were trying to expel a hairball. "That doesn't even sound like me!"

"You fucking, brat!" Maleficent reached out and shoved my shoulders with her knife-like fingernails.

Adrenaline shot through me and I backed up to take a defensive stance.

I was smaller than Maleficent and her spiked kitten heels could probably puncture my flimsy costume, but not before I could get in a few good blows. 

"How dare you?" Maleficent screeched, losing the calm comport she was so known for. "Who do you think you are? You big-titted trollop-"

"Nope!" I yelled over the music to cut her off. "You know what? I don't know what I find more offensive. The fact that I've made this company millions of dollars without receiving a proper raise or an adequate promotion. Or, that I had to spend that entire time watching your husband get away with sexually harassing every woman that worked CD&R. I guess it doesn't matter which is worse, Maleficent. I'm done. I quit!"