Page 23 of His Enemy's Daughter
“Since you started leaving traces.” He pulls out his phone, turns the screen toward me. “You used your credit card at a coffee shop six blocks from here. The same coffee shop you visited last week before our meeting. Patterns get people killed, Regina.”
The casual way he says my name as if he owns it, as if he’s earned the right to it, does something warm and dangerous to my chest.
“I needed caffeine.” I cross my arms, defensive. “Is that a crime now?”
“It is when you’re supposed to be maintaining cover.” He closes the distance between us, and suddenly the parking garage feels too small, too charged. “Your father’s people aren’t stupid. They see patterns, they start asking questions. You want to explain to Sabino why you’re frequenting the same location before disappearing for an hour?”
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right, and I hate even more how my body responds to his proximity—pulse quickening, breath shallowing, skin hyperaware of the inches between us.
“Fine.” I force myself to hold his gaze, to not back down, even though every instinct screams that this man is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with violence. “I’ll be more careful. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” But there’s heat beneath the sarcasm, something that makes his stormy gray eyes darken as they trace across my face. “You have the information?”
I pull the flash drive from my jacket pocket, but when he reaches for it, I close my fist around it. “First, you tell me—was the intel from last week useful?”
“Regina—”
“Was. It. Useful?” I step closer, close enough to see the silver stubble on his jaw, close enough to catch the scent of him—sandalwood and something darker, more primal. “Because I’m taking massive risks every time I access those files. The least you can do is confirm I’m not wasting both our time.”
The silence stretches, electric and dangerous. Then his hand closes over mine—not grabbing, just covering, his palm rough and warm against my knuckles.
“It was useful.” His voice drops lower, intimate. “Very useful. Your information about the shipment route helped us intercept a weapons delivery headed for one of your father’s secondary locations. We also prevented what would’ve been an attack on Simeone’s estate.”
The admission lands like a physical touch. “You’re telling me I—”
“You saved lives.” His thumb traces across my knuckles, the gesture so casual it feels rehearsed, except I can see the tensionin his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens like he’s fighting something. “Loriana’s. Alessandro’s. People who matter.”
“People who matter to you,” I correct, and my voice comes out breathier than intended.
“Yes.” No hesitation, just honesty that feels more intimate than any lie. “Which means you matter now too. Whether I like it or not.”
The words hang between us, loaded with implications neither of us is ready to name. My hand still rests in his, the flash drive pressed between our palms like a promise or a threat.
“I don’t need to matter to you.” But even as I say it, something in my chest twists with longing I don’t want to acknowledge. “I just need you to help me escape when this is over.”
“Is that all you need?” His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “Because the way you’re looking at me right now suggests otherwise.”
“The way I’m—” My breath catches as he angles my face up, his eyes searching mine with intensity that makes my knees weak. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” He leans closer, and I can feel his breath against my lips, warm and dangerous. “Then why is your pulse racing? Why are your eyes devouring me? Why are you leaning into my touch instead of pulling away?”
“This is a bad idea.” But I don’t move away, don’t do anything to stop what’s clearly about to happen.
“Terrible idea.” His thumb traces my lower lip, and arousal floods through me so intensely I almost gasp. He takes an abrupt step back. “It’s probably the worst decision either of us could make.”
The rejection stings even though I know he’s right. I smooth my jacket, trying to ignore how my hands tremble.
“So what now?” I force my voice to steady.
“This is what matters,” he says, holding up the flash drive. “Information. Strategy. Taking down your father’s empire so you can be free.”
“And what if I want both?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “What if I want freedomandfun even if temporary?”
“Then you’re asking for something I can’t give you.” His expression softens slightly, and somehow that’s worse than if he’d stayed cold. “I spent fifteen years in prison, Regina. Fifteen years of learning that wanting things you can’t have only makes the cage smaller. I won’t be your escape fantasy any more than you’ll be mine.”
The words hit like ice water, dousing the heat and vulnerability I’d let him see. He’s right, I know he’s fucking right. But knowing doesn’t make the sting any less sharp.
“Fine.” I straighten my spine, rebuilding my own armor. “Strictly business from now on. Information exchange, nothing more.”
