The Art of Hating You

Name: The Art of Hating You
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Billionaires | Ongoing

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Sara's legs straddling Austin's lap, their lips clashed in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sound of their lips meeting was like a spark, igniting a flame that threatened to consume them. "Mmm," Sara murmured, her lips vibrating against Austin's. "I hate you," Austin growled, his hands grasping her hips, pulling her closer. His fingers dug into her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Sara's hands were just as busy, her fingers tracing the lines of Austin's face, her thumbs brushing against his lips. "I hate you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their kissing. Their lips parted for a moment, and Austin's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Sara's lower lip. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Sara's hands began to roam, her fingers tracing the contours of Austin's chest. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. As she exposed his chest, Austin's eyes locked onto hers, a warning flashing in their depths. "You'll hate me tomorrow," he said, his voice low and rough. Sara's eyes flashed with defiance, her hands continuing to explore Austin's chest. "We already hate each other," she said, her voice husky with desire.

Humor Modern CEO Secretary Arrogant/Dominant Workplace Female-centered

Chapter 5 5

06-17 11:59

Chapter 1 1

Sara groggily opened one eye to find her alarm clock blaring loudly on her nightstand. She let out a groan and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head.

"Maddy, turn it off!" She mumbled, her voice muffled by the blankets.

Madison stomped into Sara's room, looking frazzled. "Come on, Sara! You're going to be late!" she exclaimed, snatching up the alarm clock and silencing it.

Sara sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Five more minutes," she begged.

Madison threw up her hands in exasperation. "You don't have five more minutes! You have an interview in an hour, and you still need to shower and get dressed!"

Sara yawned and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'll be fine," she said, but Madison was having none of it.

"No, you won't be fine!" Madison said, grabbing Sara's arm and pulling her out of bed. "You're going to be late, and you're going to blow it! Now come on, let's get moving!"

Maddy dragged Sara into the bathroom, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "You're going to be late, Sara! You need to wake up!"

Sara stumbled along, her eyes half-closed. "Just five more minutes..." she mumbled.

Maddy had had enough. She pushed Sara into the shower stall and turned the faucet to cold. The sudden rush of icy water hit Sara like a slap in the face.

Sara's eyes jerked open as the cold water cascaded down on her. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "Ahh! Maddy!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with shock.

Maddy stood outside the shower, a satisfied smirk on her face. "That should wake you up," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sara stood under the cold water, her eyes wide with shock. She was fully awake now, and she glared at Maddy through the clear shower door. "You're going to pay for this," she muttered, her teeth chattering with cold.

Maddy walked towards the door, a smug smile still plastered on her face. "We'll see about that," she said, referring to Sara's threat of revenge. "But for now, get ready! Breakfast is on the table. I'm leaving; I don't want to be late. Mr. Reed won't like it."

She glanced at Sara, who was still shivering under the cold water. "Good luck with your interview, by the way. I'll see you tonight. Bye!"

With that, Maddy closed the door behind her, leaving Sara to her morning routine.

Sara rolled her eyes, still feeling a bit dazed from the sudden cold shower. "Thanks for the wake-up call, Maddy," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

****

Sara stepped out of her apartment, feeling a bit more awake and alert after her cold shower. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and a tailored black skirt, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She had grabbed a piece of toast on her way out the door and was now munching on it as she walked.

She had her profile clutched in one hand, the papers rustling slightly in the morning breeze. Her coat was slung over her arm, ready to be slipped on when she boarded the bus.

As she walked, Sara took a bite of her toast, the crunch of the crust and the softness of the bread providing a satisfying contrast. She chewed slowly, her eyes scanning the street ahead of her as she made her way to the bus stop.

Sara had a big interview at NovaTech Inc., a leading technology firm, for the position of Senior Business Analyst. She had graduated at the top of her class from the University of Tehran with a degree in Business Administration and had high expectations for her career.

Born and raised in Tehran, Sara had always been driven to succeed. Her parents, though loving and supportive, were not wealthy, and Sara had worked hard to secure scholarships and part-time jobs to fund her education. After completing her degree, she had decided to take a chance and move to America, hoping to find better job opportunities and a brighter future.

Sara's last job had been at a prestigious financial firm, where she had been earning a good salary, but the workload had been overwhelming, and the CEO had made her feel uncomfortable with his constant attention. Despite her best efforts, she had found it difficult to cope with the stress and had eventually decided to quit.

That had been three months ago, and since then, Sara had been searching for a new job, but it hadn't been easy. Her old boss, Mr. Franklin Jenkins, had been reluctant to give her a good reference, despite her excellent performance, and this had made it harder for her to land interviews.

But Sara was determined and persistent, and she had finally managed to secure an interview at NovaTech Inc. She was excited about the opportunity and was confident that her skills and experience made her a strong candidate for the position.

Sara's eyes scanned the bus as she rode to her interview, her mind racing with thoughts of her desperate need for a job. It had been three long months since she'd quit her last position, and her savings were dwindling rapidly. She'd applied to countless jobs, but so far, nothing had panned out.

As she gazed out the window, Sara felt a sense of anxiety wash over her. She couldn't afford to be picky, not now. She needed a job, any job, to pay her bills and keep a roof over her head. The thought of having to move back in with her parents in Tehran was unbearable. She'd come to America to build a better life for herself, not to fail.

Sara's hands clenched into fists as she thought about her old boss, Mr. Jenkins, and how he'd refused to give her a good reference. It was unfair, and it had made her job search so much harder. But she couldn't let that hold her back. She had to keep pushing forward, no matter what.

The bus pulled up to Sara's stop, and she stood up, smoothing out her skirt and taking a deep breath. It was time to put on a confident face and nail this interview. She had to get this job. Her future depended on it.

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