Page 12 of Seduced By the Enemy

“Even when it’s so fun?” he asked, eyes roaming her face with undisguised interest.

“There are other ways to have fun.”

He pulled a face. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“So the rumours about you are true?”

“What rumours would those be?”

She watched as he stepped out of bed then, moving towards the mini bar and removing a bottle of champagne. Mid-range, she suspected it was well below his usual standard. But as she watched, he unfurled the foil and popped the top, grabbing two glasses from the counter and pouring their drinks. He climbed onto the bed, holding them, straddling her, kneeling over her as he passed one to Emilia. She took it, without having a sip.

“The fact you’re constantly with a different woman.”

“And where are you reading these rumours about me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You come up in my newsfeed.”

“Ah, interesting.”

“Not really,” she assured him. “Up until Moricosia, it just made me doubly glad I’d never met you before.”

“Not your type?” he asked with an arrogantly smug grin.

“Definitely not.”

“All appearances to the contrary?”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” She drank half of her champagne in one go then placed it on the bedside table.

“Then how do you explain this?” he asked, gesturing from her, towards his chest.

She opened her mouth to say something then realized she didn’t really have an adequate answer. Howcouldshe explain what was happening between them? He was the last man on earth she would everlike,and yet the more she saw him, the more she wanted to see of him. Which made her think she should leave. No,knowshe should leave.

But then, he drank some of his champagne before bringing his mouth to hers, kissing it into her, so she drank and tasted and wanted all the more. Of him, of everything. Her legs wrapped around him, holding him close.

“I can’t,” she said against his lips. “But it really is a mistake.”

“You’ve said that already, yet here we are.”

Her eyes widened at the reality of that. At the implications. “It can’t keep happening.”

He pulled away from her, looking down intently. “I agree.”

She ignored the tightening of disappointment. “You do?”

His smile was etched with a hint of mockery. “Did you think I’d fight you? Insist we have to keep seeing each other?”

Heat flooded her face. “Of course not. Neither of us wants that.”

“No. But we do want this,” he said, shifting his hips a little, so she became aware of his erection, his renewed need for her.

“Which is stupid of us. If anyone found out?—,”

“Perhaps that’s part of the appeal,” he said, taking another drink of the champagne. This time, he dropped his mouth to one of her breasts, and took a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it, so ice cold champagne trickled over her skin at the same time his warm mouth and tongue flicked her into a state of near-oblivion.

“I—don’t—understand—,” she moaned, barely able to speak.

“You’re the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect woman,” he said, spearing her with something that didn’t feel quite right. Something that actually hurt. Because his words had a hint of disdain, a lick of judgement, that couldn’t help but make Emilia feel seen—and discounted. Like she didn’t matter. She glanced sideways, her hatred for him and the whole stupid Santoro family renewed. “This is probably the first bad thing you’ve ever done in your life. Most people go through a rebellious phase in their teens; you saved it up for me.”

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