Falling For My Enemy

by Cassandra Dee

  Stone nodded subtly, those blue eyes so dark that they were black. But his head jerked swiftly then.

  “And do you always answer her calls like this?” he asked, nodding at my undressed state.

  I pulled the robe closer around my curves. What was going on? The call had been weird, with Evelyn itching to see the plane. But Stone’s questions were even weirder, like we were beginning an interrogation.

  “Well no,” I said slowly. “But Evelyn called just as I was getting out of the shower, so I pulled a robe on. Why?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

  Stone didn’t answer, merely surveying the bedroom again. I admit, this is not what you want other people to see. The sheets were rumpled, and there was a stain of something or other on the coverlet. Even a couple drawers were half-open, the result of my hasty search for clean lingerie.

  “Okay, so the place is a mess,” I apologized. “I didn’t have time to tidy up. But seriously, Evelyn doesn’t care. She’s not like that. But it if bothers you, I can keep things neater so that no one thinks we’re slobs. Is that it? Would that make you feel better?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, and those blue eyes were steely.

  “Did you see my papers over there?” he asked, voice neutral.

  I spun around, looking at his nightstand. Sure enough, there were a couple papers lying around, but they more or less neatly stacked.

  “Sure, but I don’t think Evelyn cares about that,” was my perplexed reply. “My friend’s interested in the custom closets and clever pull-outs. She wants to see how we fit so much storage into such a small space. Trust me, some files here or there don’t make a difference.”

  The billionaire’s eyes gleamed dangerously then.

  “Maybe not to her, but it matters to me.”

  My mouth snapped shut.

  “Of course,” I said hurriedly. “I get it, you don’t want anyone to think you’re a slob. I’ll make sure to have these out of sight next time.”

  Mr. Evans strode to the nightstand then, picking up a manila file.

  “Did you see this?” he asked, pointing to a stamp at the top.

  My mouth dropped open. Because right there in big red capital letters were the words “PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL.”

  I swallowed, the gulp audible in the small space.

  “I did. Or I didn’t, sort of,” was my lame reply. “I mean, I saw it, but not really?”

  The billionaire was silent for a moment, his eyes on the file.

  “Do you not know what personal and confidential means?”

  Another uncomfortable pause.

  “I mean, I do,” came my stammer. “But it never crossed my mind, I mean there are papers everywhere, and you know ….”

  My voice trailed off because what was there to say? Of course I know what personal and confidential means, but the words hadn’t penetrated my haze of happiness. So yes, Evelyn had seen some of the files but my friend wouldn’t care. Evelyn knows even less about the business world than I do, so Mr. Evans’s financial affairs were way over her head.

  But my spidey sense had gone off, alarm bells jangling like sirens in my head.

  “What’s wrong Stone?” I asked slowly. “Why are you giving me the fifth degree? Again, I’m sorry about those papers lying around, and I’m sorry that Evelyn may have gotten a glance at them. But it doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t even be able to understand what they’re saying, much less do anything about it.”

  Stone’s eyes narrowed then, becoming slits of blue.

  “I’m not afraid of your friend,” he said silkily. “I’m afraid of something else.”

  This conversation was a web, and I was a fly trapped in the middle.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated again firmly. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about. Again, my friend just wants to see the inside of the plane. I know it’s a private space, but it can’t be that bad right? Evelyn thinks Elite Air is cool, and just wants to live vicariously through me.”

  Stone nodded, his jaw tense.

  “You’re getting closer,” he rumbled, those massive shoulders bulging with muscle. “Keep going.”

  But keep going with what? By now, it was clear I was in over my head, so in the interest of simplifying the conversation, I turned both my palms up, as if pleading with the alpha.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” came my voice. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it as best I can.”

  Stone was silent for a moment, looking away. But when his gaze swung back to me it was so full of vitriol that I gasped, shrinking from the billionaire.

  “You’re a spy,” the words came, harsh and flat. “All this was a set-up to destroy my business.”

  The accusation was so crazy that my eyes bugged out, unable to comprehend his words at first.

  “I’m sorry?” came my gasp. “Come again?”

  Stone’s face became cruel, his mouth a gash of anger.

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” he snarled. “You’ve been a mole this entire time. This flight attendant job? All bullshit. Your lovey-dovey ways and “sweetheart this, sweetheart that?” A complete crock of sizzling crap.”

  I gasped, my heart contracting suddenly with a stab of pain because none of that was fake at all. I’d imbued every action and word with sincerity, adoring the billionaire with every cell of my being. So why was he accusing me of being a spy of all things? Was this some sick World War II movie?

  “There’s been a mistake,” came my rushed words. “It has to be. I’m not a spy. I’m no one, just a no-name nobody from the middle of Queens. How could I be a spy?” my hands were up in the air. “It’s impossible.”

  But Stone got savage then.

  “Liar,” he snarled. “I had experts check it out. There’ve been a series of leaks at my company. And you know what? The leaks corresponded with whichever city I was in. Atlanta. Dallas. Fucking Alaska for crying out loud. You think you were going to get away with this?”

  My hands flew to my mouth.

  “But that doesn’t mean anything!” was my protest. “And this makes no sense. I don’t know anything about your business, even if I was traveling with you all the time. What knowledge do I have? And who am I spying for? This is crazy!”

  But Mr. Evans turned away, shaking his head.

  “The best honeypots are just like you,” he said savagely. “Protesting your innocence until the very end.”

  “But I am innocent!” came my cry. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He swung eyes like lasers to me then, searing my skin. I literally fell backwards against the cabin wall, my heart pounding furiously with fear.

  “You dumb bitch,” he snarled. “It’s you and your friend, and that fucker Nick Prescott.”

  What? Who was Nick Prescott? What friend? Did he mean Evelyn? Other than my mom, Evelyn was the only person I’d kept in touch with during these past few months.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “What are you talking about? Evelyn? You have things wrong. My buddy has scrambled eggs for brains. She’s not a spy.”

  The claim was so ludicrous that I let out a choked giggle, unable to believe the direction of this conversation. But Stone shook his head with a sharp jerk, slicing one palm through the air.

  “You dumb bitch,” he repeated. “All this time I’ve trusted you, leaving all sorts of materials around. Confidential shit. Stuff stamped with red letters, practically screaming ‘Top Secret.’ And you took pictures of everything and streamed it to your buddy.”

  I protested again, cheeks flaming.

  “I’ve taken pictures of nothing!” was my outraged cry. “I don’t even have a camera.”

  Mr. Evans picked up my laptop again, flicking open the lid with a swift twist.

  “That doesn’t look like a camera to you?” he asked, pointing to the small black lens at the top. “You haven’t been chatting with your buddy all this time?”

  I gasped.

  “Yes, it’s a camera, but I’ve never taken an
y pictures, I swear,” came my gasp. “This makes no sense. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and frankly, this is all baloney. If you want me gone, just say so! Just tell me! You don’t have to make up some bullshit about spying and spy games and craziness that doesn’t exist. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

  With that, Mr. Evans’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes dangerous.

  “Fine,” he snapped, the word like a crack in the air. “Get out.”

  My head jerked upwards, my eyes meeting his. Was the billionaire serious? After all the conversation and laughs we’d shared, he wanted me gone after some silly misunderstanding? This was just a giant mistake, and it was so crazy that it was ludicrous. I was a girl from Queens who knew nobody and nothing. How could I possibly be some international spy, embroiled in corporate espionage? Sure, there were assorted files lying around but never in my life did I take pictures of his documents, much less transmit them to a rival.

  But Mr. Evans was done. His eyes were flat, and his voice brutal.

  “Like I said, get out,” he snapped.

  My chin jerked up.

  “Right now? Like this?” I gasped, gesturing to the silky robe molding my curves. “At least let me get dressed and grab my things.”

  But Mr. Evans was prepared.

  “No. Get out,” he said again, this time his voice devoid of all emotion. “You’re a fucking liar. Here’s your passport. There’s a golf cart waiting on the tarmac. We’re leaving in about five,” he said, glancing at his watch before looking back at me. “Correction. I’m leaving in five. You’re getting the fuck out of my life.”

  I gasped. I was being kicked off the plane just like that? But as if in answer, the engines hummed to life then, and the seatbelt sign dinged on.

  “Get out,” Mr. Evans said cruelly then, harsh streaks of color decorating his cheekbones. “You’re a lowlife, and it was my mistake getting involved. Get the fuck off my plane.”

  I couldn’t take anymore. The humiliation was complete. All these accusations were baseless, and yet they stung. But the billionaire wouldn’t explain. He wouldn’t elucidate on what exactly I’d done wrong, much less which secrets I’d allegedly passed onto a competitor.

  But sometimes, you reach the end of the rope, and there’s nowhere to go. Holding my head up high, I pulled the silky robe around my curvy figure.

  “Just give me a minute to put on some shoes,” came my stilted voice. “And I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Good,” the billionaire grunted, refusing to look at me. “The sooner the better.”

  My heart shattered then, and a physical pain radiated from my chest. But I couldn’t let him see because this was so unfair. Stone was accusing me of all these insane things, and refusing to listen to my pleas. At least he should have given me an opportunity to explain, or to try and figure things out.

  But we were past that point now. The plane had already rumbled to life, and the seatbelt sign was an intense glare above my head. The dark man wanted me gone, and there were no two ways about it. What the boss wants is what he gets, and the only thing to do was to obey.

  Grabbing my purse and slipping on a pair of sneakers, I pulled the silk robe tight around my curves, stepping onto the staircase that led to the tarmac. The sun in Florida was so bright that my eyes squinted, heat practically rising from the black asphalt.

  But I saw nothing. Tears blinded my vision, and my hand shook as it gripped the rail. I descended step by step to the heated blacktop, and as soon as I set foot on solid land, an airport maintenance man pushed the gleaming metal staircase out of the way, gesturing for me to move back.

  “Plane’s taking off,” he said, waving his arms. “Move back.”

  With trembling knees, I walked towards the terminal although it seemed a mile away. With a stiff back, I kept walking even as the jet began rolling down the runway. And soon, they were gone, the white bird growing smaller into the sky until it was nothing but a glint among the clouds.

  With that, I bent over and threw up right there on the tarmac, dressed in nothing but a silky robe and sneakers. Violently, my stomach heaved, all air leaving my lungs as breakfast erupted from my throat, acidic and harsh. My dream had collapsed. Within five minutes, I’d gone from a woman at the top of the world, to an ant crushed beneath the heel of the king. I’d been reminded of my lowly status all too easily, and now, what did I have? Nothing but my passport in hand … and the memories of a life that was now gone.

  13

  Morgan

  Three months later …

  Nothing’s been the same since I left Elite Air. The world is gray, and it feels like the sun never comes out. My vision is blurry, and everyone looks the same to me. They’re all ghosts wafting through my consciousness.

  Because without Stone Evans, my world collapsed. I had nowhere to go, and nowhere to turn without the billionaire by my side. I was a girl with nothing, with her heart torn from her chest. I had my passport in one hand, a silky robe pulled about my form, and a pair of neon-colored sneakers on my feet. How would I move on? Fortunately, airport security let me call my one and only friend. Evelyn.

  “What?” the blonde gasped. “He did what? What an asshole!”

  “Please,” came my tearful reply. “Can you wire some money for a ticket?”

  “Where are you?” she asked firmly. “We need to get you out of there asap. That guy is such a fucking douche, and for no reason too!”

  I nodded gratefully. My mind was fuzzy, and I couldn’t think. How had we come down to this? How was this possible? After all, just twenty minutes earlier I’d been contemplating a life of laughter and love with the billionaire. Yet in two seconds, I’d been booted out of his life.

  What did you expect? came the voice in my head. You were never equals. That was just magical thinking on your part. You got carried away because Stone treated you well. But there was never an ounce of reality in the scenario.

  Tears welled in my eyes again because it was true. I’d mistaken myself for the princess in a fairy tale. And like a real-life prince, Mr. Evans had appeared, making my problems disappear. Money was no longer an issue. The prospect of bankruptcy was gone, and my mom’s medication was suddenly affordable given my salary at Elite Air.

  But that didn’t mean that life was simple. Just because you have money doesn’t mean that problems go away. All it means is that you have a different set of problems, things that make your head swim in ways that were previously unimaginable.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks again as I stood with a phone pressed against my ear.

  “I’m in Boca Raton, Florida,” came my sad whisper. “Can you send me a ticket?”

  “Of course,” replied Evelyn stoutly. “I’ll get you out of there in no time. Just hang tight, Morgan, don’t worry. You’ll be back in Queens before the blink of an eye.”

  True to her word, a ticket magically appeared for me at the counter, courtesy of my friend. Wearing a pair of donated sweats courtesy of the airport staff, I got onto a commercial flight and was transported home.

  But that didn’t mean my problems were over. I’d given up our shared apartment because I was always traveling with Stone, and I was too ashamed to face my mom too, so I moved in with Evelyn temporarily, crammed into her tiny flat. It’s awkward for sure. She lives in three hundred square feet, so we’re sardines piled on top of one another. But fortunately, Evelyn is gone most times at her boyfriend’s place, so it’s just me in this tiny, airless apartment.

  Today was no exception. I looked out onto the street, dingy cabs passing by, the honk of horns and passerby scurrying below. What lay beyond this street? What was around the corner? Sadly, I couldn’t say because it’s been three months since I got back, and yet I’ve barely ventured outside. That’s right, I’ve been sequestered in Evelyn’s apartment, the depression like a gray cloud that won’t lift. My limbs are heavy, and my brain is foggy with hurt. I’d do anything to numb the pain, but alcohol and drugs have never had any effect on my consti
tution.

  So here I was again, staring out the window, my mind a fuzzy mess occasionally penetrated by a sharp stab of pain. My stomach would clench, and a searing white-hot heat would pierce my chest and force me to bend over. Stone, my brain cried. Stone, Stone, don’t leave me.

  But it’s too late for that. I haven’t heard from the billionaire ever since that fateful day. Total silence. Incommunicado. Just like a piece of trash tossed into the wind, I was nothing. I was forgotten garbage, just another girl on a long list of exes.

  Because he must have done this before. Elite Air exists to serve the billionaire’s whims, and my guess was that Stone was on the phone with Helena the minute I stepped off the jet. He probably had another girl on order at the next stop, perky and ready to do his bidding. That’s how easy it was.

  Fresh tears came to my eyes, and I stood up with a jolt. Fuck this life. Misery was my constant companion, and I wandered over to the bedside table, seeing nothing. Plopping down on the mattress, my shoulders slumped, and defeat emanated from every pore. I was nothing. Less than dust to the billionaire, and the knowledge tore through my soul like a bloody knife once again.

  But as a wrenching sob erupted from my chest, my eyes landed on a half-open drawer. The inside was a mess for sure. But this time, something caught my eye because it was a crumpled receipt for a flight from Boca.

  Oh right. Evelyn had purchased my ticket for me since I’d been kicked off the plane with nothing but my passport. She’d sprung for the flight, and here was the proof. Six hundred and forty-two dollars for a one-way flight from Boca back to JFK.

  But curiously, the ticket was paid for by a company called ABC Enterprises. Weird. Was that Evelyn? It couldn’t be because my friend didn’t have a job. She spent most of her time with some boyfriend or another, dependent on their largesse to pay the rent on this tiny place. So who was ABC?

  At that moment, the front door slammed, and my buddy waltzed in. Long blonde hair floated behind Evelyn. Her make-up absolutely perfect, and she was dressed in a winter jacket that had to cost four figures.