There’s a reason I never keep previous employees when I purchase a new acquisition, and Carrie Marshall is the perfect example of this. There’s too much baggage, too many negative emotions flying around. People are often too loyal, too attached to the way things used to be, and it’s easier to start fresh with a new batch of employees than to win the old ones over to your side.

Carrie hasn’t held back in showing her disdain. But she doesn’t know the whole story, the real reason why Hell Cat ended up in my lap. The previous owner was running it into the ground and owed thousands of dollars in debt. I have no intention of sharing that information with her though. Part of the agreement is that I keep my mouth shut.

“How long do you think you’ll stick around?” Carrie asks after agreeing to take on the manager position. I can tell she’s eager to get rid of me, and I almost echo the sentiment.

Almost.

Because while I let everyone else go, I kept her.

The truth is, Carrie Marshall is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my fucking life, and I’ve been surrounded by beautiful women from the moment I was old enough to understand what that meant. My family is old money, so to speak, and my father was a bit of a shark when it came to the opposite sex, always with a new one on his arm every month, and usually half his age.

All that said, she might be beautiful, but she has the attitude to rival Oscar the Grouch, anger and irritation dripping with every word she speaks. She thinks she’s too good for this bar now that I own it, and I can tell her pride almost made her say no to the manager job.

And she’s starting to get on my goddamn nerves.

“Don’t worry,” I say with a tight smile. “I’ll be gone soon enough.”

“Great.” Her voice is almost too bright. Honestly, I really shouldn’t have hired her for the job. For one, she has no experience managing anything as far as I can tell. And two, I have a feeling she’s going to make my life a living hell any time she doesn’t agree with me. Which, it’s glaringly obvious, will be a hell of a lot more than the times she agrees with me. She wants to keep everything at Hell Cat exactly as it is, and I hate to break it to her, but that’s not how this experience is going to go.

Things have to change. Things have to improve. Otherwise, Hell Cat will be a bad investment I have to let go.

“I’ll have my assistant draft up some paperwork for you to sign and date, and then we’ll get started.” I give a nod, determined to keep this as professional as possible. “Can you be back here tomorrow morning at eight?”

Her face blanches. “Eight? In the morning? Let me just check one more time. You do realize this is a bar you’ve bought and not a coffee shop?”

“This is a business meeting, not serving shots until three in the morning. Be here at eight.”

* * *

“Rise and shine, princess,” I say with a smirk when Carrie rolls in with a yawn and a messy bun on top of her head. She’s clearly just rolled out of bed. But, despite that fact, she looks even sexier than she normally does. Something about her bedhead throws images of sheets and tangled limbs and long, naked legs into my brain. My cock twitches against my belt despite myself. What the hell? This isn’t the time or the place or the woman for that. This is Carrie Marshall, the manager for my newest acquisition, and the woman has made it more than clear she despises me with every fiber of her being.

Still, my eyes get caught on the way her loose shirt hangs down to reveal the cleavage spilling out of a lacy pink bra. I swallow hard. I’m always a sucker for lace, and especially a sucker for the flesh I know it hides underneath. I wonder what her nipples look like, taste like, feel like. It would be so easy to shift closer and slide my hand up her shirt, to finger at the edges of her bra until she begs me to rip it off with my teeth.

“Earth to Liam,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “If you were going to call me in here at the crack of dawn, you could at least pay attention to what I’m saying.”

I blink, coming out of my daze. “Crack of dawn? You can’t honestly be calling eight o’clock the crack of dawn.”

“The sun only rose half an hour ago. Therefore, I had to get up at the crack of dawn to get here on time.”

“Nice try,” I say. “The sun rises at six. I know this because I actually have a professional life where I don’t get to sleep until noon everyday. Unlike some people.”

“Are you referring to me.?” She snaps, raising her eyebrows. “You do realize the reason I don’t get up at six is because I go to bed at four, right? Because I’m here. Working my feet off every damn night.”

I sigh. This meeting has gone off the rails, and it’s barely even started. I didn’t want to argue with Carrie, and yet here we are, trading barbs instead of talking about the renovation plans for Hell Cat. At this rate, we’ll never get any work done, and I’ll have to spend another day getting this place ready for the opening.

“Can we just put aside whatever hatred we have for each other and work on the damn plans?” I snap without meaning to. It’s out of character for me, to say the least. My associates always consider me cool, calm, and collected. I can ease into any boardroom and smile my way through every question thrown my way, regardless of how idiotic or intentionally pointed. But this woman really brings out the worst in me, fraying my nerves and wearing my patience thin.

Maybe it’s the way she’s unable to say anything without a pissed off tone in her voice. Or maybe because I find it impossible to concentrate when that shirt of her dips so far low.

The reality is, it’s probably a combination of the two.

“Fine with me.” She drops into the chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “What is it that you’d like to show me, Mr. Moneybags?”

I pick up the folder, sigh, and then toss it right back onto the table again. “Carrie. I realize I irritate the hell out of you, and I’ve gotta admit the feeling is mutual.”

“How very observant of you,” she says.

I give her a look. “I told you yesterday I’d like your input, but I need you to actually pretend to be civil. It doesn’t have to be genuine. We can agree on our mutual dissatisfaction with each other and smile politely until all of this is done. And then we rarely have to deal with each other anymore once this fine establishment reopens.”

“Mutual dissatisfaction? Fine establishment?” She coughs out a laugh and shakes her head. “Keep talking like that and everyone will think you’re turning this place into some kind of bland corporate meeting place.”

“Carrie.” I close my eyes, reaching down deep inside me for the patience that’s really missing today. “Can you agree to be civil or not?”

A beat passes, but then she nods. “I’ll be civil, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ooze with niceness.”

“Trust me,” I say. “There was no threat of me thinking that.”