Sensation

Hatefuck

Sensation

Hatefuck

He was excrutiatingly annoying – a cocky dipshit with nothing to show for it. To be so damn arrogant, he was proud for nothing and of nothing, and my hatred for him ran deep. And here he was sitting in front of me, his face probably as unamused as mine as we glared at each other.

"Surprise!" The regional area manager exclaimed, smacking a thick manila folder on the marble table between us. "You two will be partners for this rush project. Figured I'd need two of my best on this, even if from different departments – and despite you two.. hating each other. Team building as a plus, I guess. I want this done in five days."

And with that, leaving no room for complaint, he stalked off. Not that I could complain to my regional manager about pretty much anything. I knew from the moment I got the call to report to his temp office that I was in deep shit. I had that deep rooted, gut feeling. It did nothing but worsen when I walked in and saw this bastard's face.

In any other scenario, I would have refused, flipped the manila folder off his desk and took my ass home; But my job was on the line. He wasn't worth losing it.

"Killian."

His arched brows stitched together, lip drawing up into a scowl. "We're on a last name basis, Deans."

My face mirrored his, and I could feel the snarl in my lip. This was exactly why I couldn't stand him. This man with his haughty and arrogant attitude – proud with nothing to show for it but his looks. Physically he was all too easy on the eyes, but his demand of submission to all of those who associate with him pissed me off to no extent. And now, outright telling me I had no right to say his first name as if he was some God blessing my presence.

I wanted to leap across the table with my fist raised already and we'd been in this room for about 8 minutes. 

Your job is on the line, Connor, your job is on the line.

That was the internal mantra was the only thing that helped me maintain my composure. "Okay, Richards." Opening the folder with an annoyed grunt, I separated the files between documents geared mainly toward my department, Logistics, and his, Economics. As my gaze swept across the pages in quick glances, it became apparent there was no way for us to work separately then come together in the end.

All of our documents overlapped meaning we'd need to collectively analzye and flesh them out. We'd have to be together everyday of the fucking five we had to finish this.

"Well," I pushed the documents across the table rather aggressively, "we don't have a choice but to be together for this project."

His winter gray eyes crossed the page, darkening before he closed them. A deep exasperated sigh escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What is your schedule like." It was so blunt and monotone that it was obviously nothing short of a demand rather than a question.
Another reason to piss me off.

"Pretty clear now that we only have 5 days to finish a rush project, dipshit."

His eyes flew open once again, anger shining brightly. He'd always had a problem with my mouth, and his irritation had me fending off an oncoming smirk.