Page 19 of Seduced By the Enemy

He shifted his weight, propping up a little and resting his head on one palm.

“Let me rephrase.Whyare you leaving?”

She hesitated at the foot of the bed, the conversation she’d been playing out in her mind for the last twenty minutes still going back and forth on repeat. But she knew she’d come to the right conclusion in the end. “New rule,” she said, keeping her tone light.

“I’m listening.”

“No sleeping over.”

He arched his brows. “No?”

She shook her head.

“What’s wrong with sleeping in the same bed?”

She bit into her lower lip. “It’s just too intimate.”

“Emilia, I have tasted you and been insides you. Yet sleeping in the same bed is where you draw the line?”

She flushed to the roots of her hair. “You know what I mean. It’s different. Like being in each other’s apartments.”

“I have no issue with sharing a bed,” he said, moving to sit properly now, then standing on the carpeted floor. “But if that’s a hard no for you, it’s fine by me.”

“It is,” she said, on a wave of relief. For some reason, it just felt more personal, somehow. Like there was more scope for getting to know each other.Likingeach other. What Emilia wanted was to keep this—whatever it was—to a strictly ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,’ kind of scenario. Because she wasn’t used to this. And for all they’d put guardrails in place, she suspected it was going to be harder for Emilia to keep the lines between them unblurred than it would be for Salvatore, who’d slept with so many women he’d lost count. In fact, the sooner she got out of there, the better.

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll go.” She moved to the door, holding her breath for no reason she could think of.

His raw laugh chased after her though, and a second later, his hand curled around her wrist. “Wait a second. What’s the rush?”

She glanced up at him, hit powerfully by their height difference. And his broad shoulders. And muscled torso. And incredibly hypnotic eyes. She swallowed past a constriction in her throat.

His hand lifted, curving around her cheek. “Is a kiss goodbye against the rules, too?”

Her lips parted, and something in her chest kerthunked. “I didn’t have you pegged as the sentimental type.”

His grin was almost her undoing. Sexy and slow, it made her insides turn to mush. “Believe me, there’s nothing sentimental about the way I kiss.” A second later, he was showing her why—with a kiss that was, instead, a promise of what was to come, next time. A kiss that was pure seduction and skill, desire and desperation. A kiss that left her knees trembling and her pulse racing, so when he dropped his hand and stepped back from her, Emilia could only stare at him for several seconds beforeremembering where she was—and that she was in the process of leaving.

She stepped outside before she could do something stupid, and leap right back into bed again.

6

LATER THAT DAY, SALVATORE stared out at the view from their Manhattan office, listening as his cousin Rocco ran their family board meeting, detailing the latest progress on their Hamptons project. What had initially started as a takeover bid of a beachfront street filled with rundown old houses had turned into a full-scale rejuvenation. With the force of Rocco’s unwavering attention, the houses in the street were being structurally restored and renovated, turning from places fit only for demolition, to the sort of luxurious homes that billionaires would soon be fighting to snap up.

Of course, there was no greater motivator than love, and Rocco Santoro had surprised them all by falling head over heels in love with Maddie, who happened to have grown up in one of the houses. Destroying the house would have devastated her, and so he worked hard at a solution that would enable the historic street to be saved, while the Santoro family still came out on top financially.

This update was important, and with the rest of the family headquartered between the UK and Italy, Salvatore was the only other Santoro in the boardroom with Rocco. As such, he knewhe should be giving this more of his attention. But every time he moved, he was aware of the way his body responded, muscles pleasantly fatigued, aching in a way that spoke of great exertion. Of the way he’d treated last night like some kind of marathon workout, making love to Emilia until they were both completely destroyed. Exhausted, and wrecked, they’d collapsed onto the mattress and fallen asleep, limbs entwined, bodies heavy from the weight of shared pleasure.

Then, she’d woken, and he’d teased her for attempting to run out on him, but the truth was, he’d been relieved as hell. Relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to go, to do the whole ‘this was great, but let’s leave it at that’, speech. The fact that he and Emilia had already agreed to the terms of their relationship, such as it was, helped him make peace with what had happened between them.

Because he wasn’t an idiot.

For all he’d downplayed her concerns, and acted as though this was no big deal, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his family. Even more so, he didn’t want this to cause shit for Emilia. Where he might have once said that he’d have happily watched the Valentinos lose everything they held dear, his relationship with Emilia—even while only physical—had changed that viewpoint somewhat. He didn’t want her to suffer because of this.

Hence the ground rules. It was funny to think that usually rules were associated with restrictions, and yet, in this case, they gave him cover. Cover to relax and enjoy this; cover not to overthink it.

“Bro, you here?” Rocco clicked his fingers right in front of Salvatore’s face, so the latter refocused with a sense of impatience.

“What’s up?”

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