Page 37 of Seduced By the Enemy

Not particularly prone to giving much thought to a woman’s feelings—he’d never had the need—he’d found himself thinking back on the last time he’d seen Emilia and trying to work out if he’d said or done something wrong. Or if she’d said or done something to indicate that she was annoyed with him. Sick of him, them, and what they were doing?

His gut twisted at that and his chest rolled with something new – a sense of dented pride. Was it possible he’d become more wrapped up in what they were doing than she was? Possible she was over it. Before him?

The thought left him cold, because in truth, this thing with Emilia was still a raging fire in his bloodstream. He fully accepted the necessity of walking away at the end of their agreed upon month, but that was still a couple of weeks away. They had time left. Time to enjoy this, to get it out of their systems.

So why the hell was she wasting it? Why wasn’t she answering his calls?

He had no option but to accept Emilia’s decision—and he would—but first, he wanted to understand it. Which was how, one evening, Salvatore came to find himself breaking one of their agreed upon rules and pressing the buzzer for her apartment, staring resolutely ahead as he waited for her to answer. His jaw was clenched tight and, in the back of his mind, he knew there was risk here. Risk in coming to her place, risk in doing so without a discussion first. Risk that he'd be seen, that she might not be alone.

Yet in that moment, he didn’t give a flying fuck.

He had to see her, to understand what the hell was going on.

“Hello?”

Her voice—just that single word—breathed something inside his chest that made everything better, and worse.

“It’s me.”

Silence.

He imagined her then, frowning, almost as if she’d forgotten who he was. He pressed his finger to the intercom. “I swear to God, Emilia, if you don’t let me up, I will start ringing every other buzzer until someone opens this door.”

Her response was to press the buzzer. He kept his shoulders squared and his jaw clenched as he rode the elevator to her apartment, ignoring the slight misgivings he felt at having pushed a trusted mutual acquaintance into giving him Emilia’s address. He was pretty sure that had broken one of their rules, too, but hell. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if she was going to blank him, then he was going to fight for answers. He deserved that much.

When the elevator doors pinged open, Emilia was standing just inside her apartment, with the door held open, and just the sight of her made his whole body catch fire.

She hadn’t had time to change, so she was just wearing a pair of bike shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. Her feet were bare, so too her face of make up, and her long hair was out and loose, dragged over one shoulder. Her expression was pinched, her eyes wary, as though he was the last person she wanted to see.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she hissed, contradicting herself by gesturing for him to step inside. But for some reason, he hovered on the threshold. Perhaps because he knew the rules they’d crafted were important, and that breaking them was somehow doing something they couldn’t easily undo.

“You gave me little choice.”

Her eyes flashed to his, anger unmistakable in their depths. “I beg your pardon?”

His nostrils flared. “So you should.”

“Are you actually annoyed at me?”

He felt the ground slipping a little beneath him. She seemed so surprised that he’d be annoyed – like she didn’t think he had any right. Which left him with only one conclusion. She really didn’t care if she saw him again. To hell with what they’d agreed. To hell with the fact he felt like she’d become the breath he needed to survive.

“Would you get in here?” she demanded, clearly exasperated, as she reached out and grabbed his arm. He was way bigger than her, so when she tugged on him, he didn’t move. “Someone will see you,” she said, looking furtively down the deserted corridor.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t give a shit, but that wasn’t strictly true. Besides, he’d come here for answers, and that wasn’t a conversation he particularly wanted to have in a public space. So he stepped forward, brushing past her as he entered the foyer of her apartment, ignoring the way his body immediately took that as a promise of something more.

His cock strained in his pants, so hungry for her, his whole body felt as though it were experiencing a form of torture,because this wasn’t the time for sex. And Salvatore was someone who always had time for sex.

“What the hell is going on?” he growled, at liberty to give voice to his frustrations now they were behind the closed door of her home.

Hanging on the wall just behind Emilia was a family portrait, taken when she was perhaps eleven or twelve, and featuring her two brothers and parents. His gut rolled at the visible reminder of her Valentino-ness, and the very stark reasons they should both have been smart enough to walk away from this.

“What do you mean?” her voice was arctic. Arctic in a way he’d never heard it. Cold like ice. Resolutely distant.

His skin itched with impatience, and that need to understand grew.

“Have you lost your phone?”

She just stared at him, lips compressed, chin jutting defiantly.

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