Love to Hate You by Anna Premoli Page B

firm tone, trying not to suffer too much from having given him a half compliment, “so, enlighten me – did you really think I would help you?
That. I. Would. Help. You
?”
    I repeat the question very slowly, in an astonished tone, as though I were talking to a child.
    â€œWhy not?” he has the cheek to ask, as though it were normal.
    â€œIan, don’t provoke me!” I threaten, hoping that I won't have to give any further explanation. The way this is going, I might not be able to account for my own actions.
    I mean, after being a thorn in my side for years he shows up and he actually expects me to
help
him? And to show up in
public
with him?
    â€œWhat have you got to lose?” he insists, trying another strategy. But he’s out of luck, because I already know all his tricks. I’ve got a Master’s in the subject.
    â€œMy reputation, my self-esteem, my dignity… shall I go on? Because I could go on, you know? For hours.” I answer promptly.
    â€œYou want to play hard,” he says, after pondering for a few moments.
    I lean towards him and look in his eyes. “That's where you’re wrong, Ian, I’m not playing at all, even though I get the feeling you might be.”
    We study each other for some time. Neither of us wants to look away first, because that would mean losing. The same old boring story.
    â€œOk, so what do you want?” he asks out of the blue. He must have given up the attempt to bewitch me with his big blue eyes. That’s unfortunate for him: a bit more staring and I might have given in. I am only human, after all!
    â€œI want you out of my life. Can I have that?” I suggest.
    He lifts his eyes to the heavens, irritated by my lack of co-operation.
    â€œI meant something realistic. And I'd be grateful if you could avoid being sarcastic all the time.”
    â€œMe? Sarcastic? You must be mixing me up with someone else,” I say, pretending not to understand what he means.
    â€œOh, give it a rest and stop changing the subject – what do you want in exchange for this little favour?” he insists.
    Little
– right. Very little.
    â€œIf you think there's any chance I'd accept a proposal like that you must be out of your mind,” I say, loud and clear. He doesn’t seem to care about what I've just said, though.
    â€œI’m committed and ready to negotiate. I’m sure we can agree on a compromise that satisfies both parties.”
    â€œI doubt it—”
    â€œCome on, think. There must be something you really want. Something like, I don't know, carte blanche for the job we’re working on. I could make things much more difficult, if I had to—” he says, threateningly.
    â€œLet’s get something clear: I don’t want you around. Beverly's my client and I want to deal with his estate my way. Your presence is necessary because of the… the extenuating circumstances. But let’s leave it at that. I’m not interested in your opinions or suggestions, and most of all I don’t want to discuss them with you,” I say in one breath. The words just tumble out of my mouth, and I don't seem to be able to stop them.
    â€œSee? There
is
something you want. You want to be able work without me interfering. And I'd be happy to let you do that in exchange for a trifling little bit of help from you.”
    I keep quiet. Whatever I might say would only backfire on me.
    Ian watches me carefully and ponders for a long time, before speaking again.
    â€œLook, I know we've had our differences in the past, but I did think that what they say about you was true.” His usual glib tone has vanished for a moment and he sounds serious.
    â€œAnd what do they say?”
    â€œThat you’re actually a nice person who likes helping other people.”
    â€œI heard that 'actually', loud and clear,” I say, not knowing what other pretext to use. Because there’s an annoying part of