Page 30 of Seduced By the Enemy

“You sound like you don’t think I’m capable of sweet.”

Her eyes laughed even when her face was deadpan. “Well, you are a Santoro…”

He pulled her against him then and kissed her hard. “What do you feel like?”

She expelled a soft breath. “Surprise me.”

“I intend to.” And he kissed her one more time, for good measure, before leaving the steam-filled bathroom with a very sexy Emilia Valentino in the centre of it.

Emilia hadn’t knownhow good a bath could feel until she sunk into the one Salvatore had drawn for her, staring at the tiled walls, letting her mind go as blank as possible. The water was the perfect temperature and she left it running until it covered her whole body. The bubbles smelled like rose-water and he’d slipped a phone into the room a few minutes after she’d hopped into the tub, with soft jazz music playing.

It was the most relaxed she’d felt in days. Weeks?

But maybe that had something to do with the way they’d come together out there. Frantically. Desperately. As though they were each completely starving for one another. She’d spent the last few days—scratch that, the whole time she was in Moricosia—feeling as though a spring inside of her was being wound tighter and tighter. It was the stress of the job, but also, it was wanting this. Him. To be right here, in this suite he’d rented, making love to a man who, despite being someone she was supposed to hate, was someone she really, really loved sleeping with.

It was a duality she couldn’t quite face. The certainty that if anyone in her family ever found out she was doing this, she’d cause some kind of permanent damage. And right now, they’d been through enough drama to have earned a break. Learning that Leandro was adopted had put a fissure between them for the first time in Emilia’s life, as Leandro pulled away from the family, disappearing to lick his wounds, and hurting their parents like hell in the process. Though he’d come around, and accepted that whether he was adopted or not it made nodifference to how much they all loved him, her parents had aged years in the past twelve months.

Emilia getting tangled up with a Santoro would be so much worse.

And just like that, the lovely, buzzy sense of relaxation evaporated as a tightness formed in her belly, like sawdust had been funnelled down her throat and filled her right up. She sat up a little, at the same moment Salvatore knocked at the door.

“Room for one more?”

Despite the sawdust situation, she found herself smiling at the thought of that. “It is a mighty big bath. But what about lunch?”

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,” he pointed out.

“What’s the afternoon equivalent of brunch?”

“Drunch? Linner?”

“Either or,” she nodded approvingly.

“Drunch is served,” he said with a flourish, as he turned away then returned a second later, wheeling a room service trolley through the en-suite doors. He pushed it right to the edge of the bath, where she could easily reach whatever was inside, and began to remove the stainless steel lids.

He’d clearly noticed her predilection for hot chips, because he’d made sure to include a generous bowl, but there was also sushi, some delicate sandwiches, and a bottle of champagne.

“Are we celebrating?”

“You tell me. How was your trip?”

Her eyes lifted to his and for the second time that afternoon, she forced herself not to say the first thing that came to her mind. Not to tell him the truth. Because this was a Santoro and the whole situation with the Moricosian tender had the potential to be a bone of contention between them. It was probably a subject they had to consider ‘off limits’. And yet, she didn’t feelthe same about him as she had when they were in Moricosia. Or afterwards, at the charity events.

She massaged her lip with her teeth, wondering when and how that had happened? Was it just familiarity? Wasn’t that supposed to breed contempt, rather than compatibility?

“Hello, earth to Emilia? It’s not a hard question to answer.” The water shifted as he moved into the bath, discarding the towel he’d had slung low on his hips, so he was right at her eye height. She tore her gaze upwards.

“No, I know.” She reached for a chip, distractedly. “It was…” she searched for the right word. “Stressful.”

More water shifted as he sat at the foot of the large bath. She moved her feet slightly to give him more room, but to her surprise, he reached for them, dragging them back to his lap, so he could work his fingers over the balls of her feet. It felt so good, she couldn’t hold back a small groan.

“Why stressful?”

She reached for another chip. “Are you asking me as a Santoro, or as the man I’m sleeping with?”

He flexed his brows. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we’re one and the same.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, flicking a little water at his chest. “One of you is out to destroy me and everyone I hold dear. The other one is apparently intent on giving me a thousand orgasms in the space of a month.”

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