Takedown: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance

by Lana Hartley

  Today is no exception, and they’re blooming with delight. I can smell their aroma and flowery fresh scent.

  “You look good today, Daddy.” I smile at him again.

  “Molly, can you do me a favor?” My dad briefly glances at me, ignoring my compliment.

  “Sure,” I shrug. “What is it?”

  “Can you sit on the other side?”

  “You mean…over there?” I point across the table.

  My father smiles with relief. “Yes, please, that will be perfect.”

  I look at him with confusion. “Why? There’s no one in the room with you, Daddy.”

  I know exactly why my dad is asking me to move, and it’s because of fucking Harry. Harry fucking Quinn, the rat bastard who I just so happen to share a blood relationship with because we came out of the same vagina.

  That’s right; in case you are forgetting, allow me to catch you up to speed. Harry Quinn, my brother, is the heir to this ridiculous ‘throne’ of Quinn Industries and is currently acting as CEO of the company.

  “Daddy, do you even see Harry in the room right now? He’s not coming to lunch today and he never will. He’s not dedicated like me.” I further plead my case. “I mean, come on, does he even care enough to come in here every week for lunch to give you the company rundown? Does he call you everyday and send you emails detailing every penny spent and every penny made? No Daddy. I do all that. I act as the CEO and Harry takes the credit.”

  I’m screeching like a banshee at this point, and I’m sure my father has no patience for it, but right now I don’t even fucking care.

  I have to move seats just in case the golden boy decides to show up.

  It’s ridiculous and it’s the story of my life.

  If I had been born a male, all of this would be different.

  My father sighs, rolls his eyes, and places his napkin in his lap while he waits for his servant to come and place the food in front of his spoiled, pretentious white ass.

  “I don’t ask you to come here and give me the company rundown, Molly. I’m up to speed every day, just like I tell you,” my father lectures.

  “Whatever.” I scoff and dramatically move to the left seat, making sure to pout, huff and make a scene while I’m at it.

  “Molly…” My father sighs again. “Don’t act like a sullen child.”

  “Then don’t treat me like one, Daddy,” I hiss back.

  My father and I have lunch together, sitting mainly in silence, but I drone on mechanically with my laptop, telling him of the most recent events that I think he might want to be abreast about with regards to the talent and new hires.

  After we eat, my father stands to leave the room. He plants a kiss on my forehead. “As always, it’s lovely to have lunch with you, darling,” he says and starts to walk away.

  “Daddy, wait,” I call back to him.

  “Yes?” He turns around.

  My father still has a thick head of dark hair that’s only now starting to grey in at the sides. He’s wearing a grey pinstriped suit, and I notice that he’s thinning from what used to be his heavyset body type.

  “Why are you making Harry the CEO? It’s not fair.” I hate to stoop to this level of blaming, but I honestly can’t understand my father’s choices.

  “Molly, you are too sheltered to understand why I’m going a different way with the company? Harry is just…” he shrugs. “You know, a better fit.” He grins sheepishly.

  “I have all the time in the world, Daddy,” I cross my arms defiantly. “Please enlighten me on why you won’t give me a chance. I’m really fucking great at my job, and I’m the better choice. You know it, Daddy, deep down you do,” I argue.

  “Harry knows the ins and outs of the company.” My father’s grasping at straws—at least that’s how it looks to me, whether he sees it or not. “He’s good with people, charming.”

  I scoff. “Dad, you can’t be fucking serious right now,” I shout. “Um, let’s recount Harry’s perfect life, shall we?”

  My father shifts his weight uncomfortably and rolls his eyes, but he’s silent. Apparently he’s going to let me grab the reins and roll off on this little tangent.

  “Don’t forget, Daddy: Harry sleeps around, fucking anything that moves. He never comes here to sit in on these business meetings…”

  Richard Quinn interrupts me. “These are lunches, not business meetings.”

  “Stop!” I hold up a hand to hush him. “He sleeps on the job; he’s rarely spotted in his office…I mean, Daddy, the list goes on and on,” I state.

  My father and I stare at each other for a few seconds, neither one of us having the balls to cave. Then my father roars in anger, sending shivers up my spine, once again trying to put me in my place.

  “Molly, that’s enough,” he yells. “You have no right to speak to me this way or question my choices. I am your father,” he states firmly. “If you were better at decision-making and conflict-resolution, then I would have named you as the CEO, not Harry. It’s plain and simple Molly, black and white. There’s no grey line here.” He points a finger at me.

  “Daddy,” I whisper softly and look at the floor.

  “Another thing,” he belts out. “You never take risks. Harry lives for the adventure, and he’s always coming up with new ways to develop the company and knock it out of the ballpark. That’s Harry’s primary edge!” My father spouts.

  “You really think I’m that pathetic?” I look up at my father.

  My father scoffs. “Why would I ever want a boring person with a stick permanently up their ass to inherit my company? Molly, you would run it into the ground the second you got your hands on it. This is the entertainment business, and things have to be fast-paced all the time.”

  Wow. That fucking hurts.

  I push past my father, ready to run from the room and throw up the lunch currently forming a solid rock in my gut.

  “Where are you going?” my father calls behind me.

  “I’m asking to be excused, Daddy,” I say, hatred lacing my words, not looking back as I run out of the manor and into the blinding sunlight.

  Chapter 8

  Molly

  Storm clouds hang heavy over the city and threaten to further ruin my day.

  I drive my sports car as it should be driven—fast.

  My father’s words ring heavy in my ears.

  How dare he say I have no gumption.

  He doesn’t even know me or see me despite what I’ve done and continue to do for his company.

  Without me at the helm, Harry, not me, would indeed run it into the ground.

  I sigh and hurry back to my place of comfort, NYC, the city that is always alive and is always a comfort to me despite all that I’m up against.

  I contemplate my father’s words to me. No matter how harsh they are, I know deep down they’re true...at least a little bit.

  That still doesn’t make me feel any better, and for the moment, I detest him―as horrible as that is to say about my own father.

  In the end, I know I’ll kill more flies with honey. I’ll grin and bear it when I have to do, but at least for a few moments, I let myself sulk.

  I know I play it safe, and I don’t have what you would exactly call a ‘wild side,’ but I like order and organization―it’s just who I am.

  It’s not like I can completely change my personality at the drop of a fucking hat.

  Or can I…?

  I lose myself in thought as I contemplate ways to be more carefree and less uptight.

  Then it hits me.

  Fuck yes! I know exactly where to begin.

  I have to prove to my father and his little fucking minions that I’m the type to take risks.

  I pull out Owen’s business card. I graze my thumb against its grooved surface.

  I smile to myself and read the print on top.

  Owen Wolfe, Owner and Founding CEO of Lone Wolfe Pictures.

  On the other side is the Post It I stuck on the card after he left.

/>   I take a deep breath knowing what I’m about to do.

  I’m heading through the Holland Tunnel and there’s traffic. This gives me the exact amount of bravery and time I require in order to punch in the numbers to his private line. I hit dial right in time to resurface on the other side, in Manhattan.

  Once I’m back under the exposure of direct sunlight again, I take an action that, before today, would require much contemplating, in-depth overthinking, and a million brain cells of analyzing before coming to a decision.

  Yes, I know I’m an independent woman, smart and sophisticated. I shouldn’t be toying with the idea of going out with a playboy like Owen. You don’t have to tell me.

  In fact, don’t fucking tell me if I’m making a huge mistake by dialing Owen. That’s not part of the deal. You’re just supposed to sit there and listen to my life unravel―and if it derails into a train wreck, then it’s all on me.

  There’s ringing in my ear on the other end of the line.

  Shit! I can still hang up…should I hang up?

  No, I’m not supposed to take advice from you, remember?

  Owen answers on the third ring.

  “Owen Wolfe,” he says in a gravelly tone that instantly makes me wet.

  “Um…hey…it’s…Molly. You know, Molly Quinn? Um, you were in my office this morning.”

  I feel like I’m rambling, like I sound unsure because I am unsure.

  This was a bad idea.

  I think of his thick black hair, his dominating stature, and his eyes...those eyes that don’t flinch and that reveal a promise of darker things to come.

  “Oh, hi, Molly.” His voice changes instantly and becomes more approachable, smoother and sexier than fucking possible.

  I try to take even, measured breaths so that I won’t have a panic attack on the phone with him. I remind myself that I’m trying to turn over a new leaf and become more daring. Convincing myself will be half the battle.

  “Hi,” I say, and wonder if he can hear the grin spreading across my face.

  In this moment, I commit to myself that this isn’t about trying to score a date or a free dinner from Owen, or any man for that matter. I’m calling for a purpose. I’m using him to achieve that end.

  He will make me seem more fiery and adventurous. And I will make him seem like he actually has some fucking taste, because I already know I’m a class act and unlike anyone he’s been out with before.

  I sigh with whimsical delight. “I’m just calling to take you up on your offer,” I say.

  “You are?” His voice is surprised, but confident.

  That confidence turns me on like nothing ever could. There’s no fucking doubt about it, Owen is a man after my own heart—self-assured, dauntless, and damn sexy.

  “Yes,” I say firmly.

  I’ve gotten through the hard part, the calling and actually speaking to him. Now it should be effortless and smooth sailing from here on out…I hope.

  “That’s great,” he chimes with sincere enthusiasm.

  “My schedule is free now. I almost can’t believe it,” I chuckle. “You’re lucky.”

  “I’ll say,” he responds. “You may as well be telling me I hit the lottery jackpot,” he croons.

  “Oh, please,” I snort. “No cheesy lines.”

  “Okay, I can agree to that.” He chuckles, low and rumbling.

  Fuck, even his damn laugh is seductive.

  “Um…so where are you at the moment?” I ask and bite my lip.

  “I’m at home,” he states.

  “Where is home, might I ask?” I use my best flirtatious voice.

  “Are you coming here?”

  We go back and forth like the game I know this is.

  “Sure.” I clear my throat, trying to even the tone a little.

  “I live at The Avalon. Do you know it?”

  “Wow,” I say. “Yes, I know exactly where that is.”

  He’s not bluffing, after all; he is really a rich bastard.

  “Okay, my apartment is on the forty-ninth floor,” he declares.

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I state, and feel the bubble of nervous yet excited energy rise in my belly as we hang up.

  I veer my car towards The Avalon thinking I need a drink or something to take the edge off what I know I’m about to do.

  This is so unlike me.

  Owen better be worth it.

  It seems like it takes ten milliseconds to get to his building, which gives me literally no time to mentally or physically prepare myself―but I’m ready for the challenge. I mean, I have to, don’t I? It’s part of the whole ‘proving myself’ package.

  The valet parks my car and I walk inside The Avalon with purpose and breezy confidence. The doorman lets me right in like he’s expecting me. I hit the elevator button and ride the entire forty-nine floors solo.

  I notice the multitude of floors in this building and marvel at how tall this skyscraper really is. And then it hits me...the forty-ninth floor is the penthouse.

  Owen owns the entire top floor of this majestic building. This sends my nerves into overdrive. And I don’t get it because I’m at ease around people with money, but something about Owen is just different.

  He makes my heart beat a little faster and there’s no denying the heated wetness that even now is soaking through my panties.

  On the way up, I wonder how he lives and what kind of people he has over. Do they hang out all the time and sip brandy and puff cigars or something? I wonder what the fuck men do together when they’re so rich they don’t even know how to spend all their money.

  I walk down the hall and ring the doorbell to Owen’s apartment. I take a deep breath and adjust my clothes, running my hands through my long blonde hair.

  A few seconds later, the door swings open and Owen stands before me, gorgeous and sexy as ever. I don’t even know this guy, but I know of him now, and that’s at least enough for me to keep from getting cold feet and running away.

  My mind is already made up, and there’s no turning back now.

  To my surprise the Owen is inciting, hot and barely wearing any clothes. He’s got a pair of black sweatpants on, and he doesn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed to be seen in this condition.

  I instinctively glance down and notice his package bulging between his legs.

  Holy shit, it’s huge, I can tell.

  I want to get my hands on that hard cock of his, and I have no idea where this motivation is coming from, but I’m suddenly compelled with the chemistry that swirls around us, as if I have no control over any of it.

  His chiseled body enthralls me, and I’m becoming completely absorbed by how ripped and cut he is.

  I want nothing more than to touch him all over and have him put his hands on me too.

  “Come on in.” Owen smiles at me and there’s a fire blazing in his eyes.

  I find myself at a loss for words, wanting to be devoured by whatever is fueling that passion.

  He moves aside to let me through.

  We stand in his foyer for a few moments as I continue to take him in. His chest is glistening. I find myself walking slowly towards him, drawn in like a magnet.

  He gives me a naughty, devilish grin.

  “So, why is your schedule suddenly clear?” His eyes flash with mischief.

  I don’t fucking know why I do it, but something takes over me, something uncontrollable. It’s like everything that I am snaps. I realize I’m unleashing my inner bad girl. It’s a side I normally keep firmly in check, ignoring her existence even to myself.

  But right now? I’m ready to let that side come out to play.

  I meet his eyes and try as I might to not look away something in him is stronger than me. And I can’t bear to see it, to have myself be so exposed to this man.

  I’m so strong all the time, but something about Owen catches me off guard and makes me weak at the knees.

  You’re fine. You can do this. Just be adventurous, remember.

  So r
ight in the foyer, I slowly begin to strip down to my black, lacy lingerie. His eyes deepen as he watches me closely.

  I stand before him, nearly nude, taunting him.

  I’m vulnerable and exposed, a feeling that is not normal for me.

  My body radiates the heat that I feel inside.

  And I catch his gaze and he challenges me to say it.

  “This is why,” I say, and eye him seductively, trying to calm my racing heart.

  What the fuck will happen now?

  Chapter 9

  Owen

  I have to do a double take.

  Fuck. Is she really standing here in front of me with nothing on but a black lacy lingerie dress?

  This is totally fucking unexpected.

  Instinctively, I take a step forward, needing to drink in her intoxicatingly perfect body. Her arms are slender, and her tummy is flat from what I can already see through the lingerie.

  She’s playing a naughty game, and even though I know I’m the bait. I don’t fucking care. I need to possess her.

  She’s biting her lip and staring at me. I know she’s teasing.

  I blink again, this is real…right?

  She’s not just a figment of my imagination.

  To prove this theory, I grab her arms…gently but with a slight tug of force.

  Her skin is so soft. Chemistry and heat surge between us as my fingertips brush up against her neck.

  I don’t know which part of her to explore first. Fuck, I don’t want to miss something or leave a single area out.

  “You’re a naughty little slut.”

  I breathe into her neck as I watch goosebumps prickle on her skin. I know it’s from pleasure by the lusty, needy gaze she’s giving me.

  My own eyes cloud over with desire.

  Her perfume smells amazing. I have to explore her body, a fucking temple of erotica.

  I pin her against the wall.

  “Do you like this?”

  I give her a devilish grin.

  She bites her lip again and smiles.

  I squeeze her wrists tighter, firmly holding her against the wall, pressing my cock into her belly, even though I’m still wearing my sweatpants.

  “Come on, baby girl, talk to me.”