Love Thy Enemy

by Katie Reus

  “She just thinks you’re a potential buyer,” Viktor said. “I didn’t tell her anything about who you are or why you’re here.” Though he knew Lucy was curious because there was no sane reason to sell this place. Not when it was making the company a lot of money.

  Dominique let out a short sigh and gave him a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you.” She turned to look at the huge, two-story house and he allowed himself to drink in her profile.

  She’d pulled her long hair up into a tail and she wasn’t wearing much makeup. She looked different than she had Saturday night and in her work clothes. A little younger than he’d originally thought—though he knew she was twenty-five now from his files. And a lot more vulnerable. When she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered he knew it wasn’t from the July weather. He wondered if being here hurt her and he hated that it was a possibility. He didn’t know how to comfort her though. Or even if he should try.

  “If it’s too hard to go inside we can come back later. Or I can just give you a key and you can come by whenever you want.” It would probably be easier on her that way, going inside alone.

  Her head snapped around to look at him. For a long moment she watched him with a wealth of emotions bleeding into her dark gaze, one of which was anger.

  Which surprised him. His brother’s words came back to haunt him and for the briefest moment he wondered if she did want to hurt him in some way. Not that he was worried about her physically taking him on.

  “Part of me hates how nice you’re being,” she finally whispered. “I hated you for a long time. I thought…you were just like him.” She turned away before he could respond and headed up the walkway to the front door.

  Scrubbing the back of his neck he followed after her and tried not to watch the sway of her perfect ass. Tried and failed.

  What the hell had he been thinking, coming here? He should have just let Rita or Lucy handle it. Or just sent the fucking key straight to Dominique.

  Being around her and knowing she likely only tolerated him was torture. Especially when all he wanted to do was kiss her.

  * * *

  Dominique sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed in her old room that looked nothing like it used to. A leopard print comforter with giant throw pillows covered the bed. An oversized canvas print of palm trees and the ocean hung on the wall above the dresser and small television. As far as beach rentals went, it was nice. The decorator certainly liked loud prints and colors, if the other rooms were anything to go by, but she could see the appeal for renters. For them it was a fun place to stay in for a week or two.

  It had been a wonderful place to grow up in. Closing her eyes, she had a flash of her mom standing in the doorway, telling her that she’d made double chocolate chip cookies and that Dominique better grab some before her father ate them all. Her mom had loved baking. She’d tried new recipes practically every week. Their house had always smelled like cookies.

  That was before everything had gone wrong.

  As stupid tears pricked her eyes, she angrily swiped them away. She’d been here too long tonight. She knew she should just leave but hours later, she couldn’t seem to force herself out of this room.

  Part of her was irrationally angry at Viktor for offering her this, for dredging up a bunch of old memories she’d done well to keep locked down. But she knew that was stupid. He didn’t seem to have any hidden agenda, just a need to make things right. If anything, he seemed almost desperate for her to take the house, something she still wasn’t sure about.

  At a slight noise in the doorway she nearly jumped when she saw Viktor standing there, looking almost hesitant. Now that she didn’t hate the man she could truly appreciate how attractive he was. She might have compared him to a thug before, but the truth was she liked that look.

  He had a darker edge to him that she found insanely sexy. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and those eyes—she could definitely get lost in that pale blue gaze. His height and build were enough to make her weak in the knees. Not many men towered over her and she liked that he did. Her experience with sex might be lacking but she had a feeling he’d know what he was doing in the bedroom. How could he not? The man was always in total control and built like a—

  He cleared his throat and she realized she was staring at his mouth. Great—she was totally perving on him at the most inopportune time.

  “I had one of my drivers pick Lucy up. It’s getting late and she’s got early morning meetings.”

  Which meant he probably did too. Of course. Cringing, she stood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take up—”

  He shook his head sharply. “Don’t be sorry. I just didn’t want you to be surprised when you realized she was gone. I can wait outside for you. Take as much time as you need.”

  “You’re very thoughtful.” She hated that the words came out as an accusation. But around him she felt like a mess. It was hard to reconcile him with the man she’d always thought he was.

  To her surprise his lips quirked up, softening his expression just a bit. “You’re the first person to ever say that to me.”

  She couldn’t feign surprise at that. He seemed like a hard man, and in business she knew his reputation was brutal. “This used to be my room,” she said, changing the subject. “Though I had posters of surfers on my walls.” She half-smiled, looking around the transformed space. “And my walls were purple.”

  “You surf?” He took a few steps into the room.

  “Not really. I mean, I did in high school a little. Longboard, mostly. The posters were of surfer guys. That was where my interest was back then.”

  He snorted, the sound taking her off guard. “That wasn’t so long ago.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Eight or nine years. God, it feels like a lifetime ago… I hated both of them for a long time,” she blurted.

  He stepped farther into the room and, to her surprise, sat on the bed next to her. “Your parents?”

  “Yeah. My dad for getting killed in a stupid bar fight and leaving us. Then my mom for… I was such a spoiled teenager. Well, not too terrible, I guess, but I was pretty self-involved. I loved my mom but I only cared about getting out of that place we were living in, about spending time with my friends. I hated what happened to us, hated that I got stuck in a new school for my last year of high school because we couldn’t afford my private school anymore. I never really thought about how much it affected her. I used to think if I’d paid more attention I’d have known that something was really wrong, that she…” Dominique swallowed hard, lifting a shoulder. She couldn’t finish the sentence. It was hard enough thinking it, let alone saying it out loud.

  “She was your mother. She was protecting you. It’s what mothers do.” He reached out and swiped his thumb across her cheek.

  Dominique hadn’t even realized more tears had slipped past her defenses. The feel of him gently touching her almost undid her completely, but he quickly dropped his hand.

  “You sound like you know that from experience.”

  He looked straight ahead instead of at her. “My mother died when I was seven. My memories of her are…good ones. She was a sweet woman who got involved with a very bad man.”

  The pain in his voice was so raw she squeezed his forearm on instinct, wanting to comfort him somehow. When he stiffened under her touch she pulled back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. And she felt a little bad at noticing how incredibly muscular he was and wondering if the rest of his body was just as toned and ripped. She was pretty sure he was, because it wasn’t like his suit hid how strong he was.

  Looking away from him, she said, “When I was five I wanted a princess party, complete with a prince and princess.” She wasn’t sure exactly why she was telling him other than she wanted him to know what this house meant to her, what his offer essentially meant. “The ‘prince’ got food poisoning or something at the last minute so my dad stepped in and wore the costume and stayed in character the whole time. The party was by the pool he
re, including a pink princess house, and all my friends got princess costumes and tiaras to wear and take home. It was so ridiculously over-the-top for a five-year-old.” She shook her head, laughing slightly. “My dad was always like that with everything. He grew up poor so I guess he just…I don’t know.” She sighed, swiping at more tears. “I swear I’m not normally a crier.”

  Viktor wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hold almost awkward, but she appreciated it. Hell, she needed the comfort right now. She leaned into him, trying to ignore that spicy masculine scent that went straight to her head. He was just becoming more and more attractive to her every moment.

  “You can cry all you need.” His accent was slightly thicker now.

  She laid her head on his hard shoulder, soaking up some of his strength. “You really are nothing like I expected,” she murmured.

  “I don’t hear that a lot.” His voice was dry. “Usually people say I’m worse than they expected.”

  Laughing again she lifted her head to look at him. Their faces were only inches apart, making her suck in a breath at the close proximity of his mouth.

  His very kissable mouth.

  She swallowed hard, stared into those intense blue eyes. For a long moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers. That thought would have seemed insane a day ago. Now…

  He cleared his throat and whatever weirdness was going on between them was instantly broken.

  “My father was nothing like yours,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead again, his posture stiff.

  Something about the way he was almost awkward was…sexy. Something she shouldn’t be thinking about. “Even with…you? Was he not a good father?”

  He let out a harsh laugh, the sound full of bitterness. “When I was fifteen he threw me into a ring with one of his fighters to ‘toughen me up,’ as he put it—he ran an illegal fighting ring for about a decade. The guy went as easy as he could on me without making it too obvious. He didn’t want to kill me, but I ended up with a broken nose, three broken ribs and…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “At least you have good memories with your family.”

  She was too shocked to respond. How awful to have such a brutal man for a father.

  “Take the house, Dominique. It’s the best ‘fuck you’ to my father you can make. Take it and do what you want with it.”

  Forget the house. She wanted to reach out and comfort him somehow.

  As if he sensed her thoughts he abruptly stood and headed for the door.

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow night?” she blurted. When he turned to look at her with raised eyebrows she continued. “To talk about the contract.” Which, okay, was a complete lie. She wanted to spend more time with him. That knowledge disturbed her but she couldn’t fight the pull toward him. The house was something she didn’t even want to think about right now.

  He nodded, his eyes flaring with heat, and she wondered if he felt that same pull. She knew he wanted her, had seen moments of awareness from him, but it could be nothing more than just lust. “I can meet you somewhere.”

  “Or you can just pick me up. I’m guessing you know where I live by now?” It should annoy her, but he was trying to fix what his father had done. Considering that he’d sent her that contract, it wasn’t hard to figure out that when he’d done research on her, he would have found out more about her. Her address and phone number were probably at the top of the list.

  His face flushed, the action…almost adorable. The man really was ridiculously sexy. “I’d have to look it up, but it’s in the file I had put together on you.”

  “I feel like I should be mad about that.”

  His mouth curved up ever so slightly. “You should be. Though…you found me at my hotel so you’ve done some research too.” There was a hint of a question at the end. As if he’d been wondering how she’d done that.

  Her face heated at his words. She wasn’t going to admit that she’d asked a friend to locate him.

  “Is seven o’clock good?” he continued when she didn’t respond.

  “It is.” The tingle of excitement in her belly was ridiculous, she told herself. But that didn’t matter. She was already thinking about what she’d wear tomorrow night.

  Because she wanted to get to know sexy and dangerous Viktor way more than she should.

  Chapter 7

  Abram wasn’t sure what he’d done to piss Lucy off, but in the last hour she’d been giving him the cold shoulder—and he had no idea why. Last night he’d been annoyed with his brother for taking Lucy with him and she’d no doubt sensed the tension between him and Viktor. But things had been normal between Lucy and him today. They’d even had lunch together. Sure, Viktor had been with them, but things had seemed like they always did.

  And now he felt like a fucking fifteen-year-old girl, obsessing over her. He scrubbed a hand over his face as she stepped into his office, her expression perfectly neutral. It annoyed the hell out of him.

  “I’m about to head out. Do you need anything else, Mr. Ivanov?”

  He gritted his teeth at the formal title. There was no doubt she was pissed at him now. “What did I say about using my first name?’

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll take that as a no. Have a good night.”

  He was out of his chair and around his desk before she’d taken one step back to the doorway. “What’s going on with you? What did I do to piss you off?” Because he was racking his brain and he couldn’t think of anything that made any kind of sense.

  “Nothing, sir. I’m just—”

  “Cut the shit, Lucy.”

  Anger flared in her dark eyes but she seemed to rein it in. “I’m sorry if I have an inappropriate attitude. I’ll make sure to—”

  “No, you’re not sorry. What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, practically shouting. He was close to kissing her senseless. Anything to get a reaction out of her.

  She didn’t flinch at his show of temper, something he adored about her. Just put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Am I going to get fired for being honest with you?”

  “No. And when are you not honest?” One of the reasons why she was such a good fit for Viktor and him was that while she was almost always in a good mood, she also didn’t put up with their shit. And she wasn’t afraid of them. They’d had assistants in the past who jumped anytime they gave an order. It was ridiculous.

  “You are such a dick sometimes! I get why you act that way in business, because you and Viktor have built something amazing. But I overheard your conversation with Viktor an hour ago.” She was fuming and he didn’t understand why.

  “So?” He hadn’t shut the door to Viktor’s office when he’d gone in there. The conversation hadn’t been confidential. Viktor was going out with Dominique tonight and Abram was worried about him getting hurt. That woman might have an ulterior motive, for all he knew. It didn’t matter that Viktor was his older brother—Abram wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Viktor had gone through enough over the years.

  “Oh my God, I want to smack you. ‘Do not go out with her, Viktor,’ ‘She is not the type of woman for you,’ ‘She just wants to hurt you.’” She repeated some of the things he’d said to his brother, her impression of him mocking.

  He blinked. “Is that supposed to be me?”

  “It’s what you sound like. Why don’t you want your brother to be happy? I’ve heard you say the same kinds of things to him before!” She stomped a heel, as if she was going to advance on him. Which he found insanely hot. “What kind of woman do you think is right for him? Because I did a little research and before you get on your high horse, just don’t. I know you have files on tons of people,” she continued before he could respond, and there was nothing to say anyway because it was true. “I knew she looked familiar so I made a call to a friend at Red Stone.”

  He blinked again. “You did?”

  “Of course I did. You’re my guys. I look out for both of you.” Before he could fully digest what she�
��d said, she continued, her rage against him clearly building. “She’s a freaking exemplary employee over there and a model citizen. They wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t. So what’s wrong with her? And why do you always tell your brother that a certain type of woman isn’t right for him? Do you mean women who aren’t escorts? Because that’s pretty shitty, Abram! He deserves more than an escort.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You know about that?”

  She rolled her eyes again, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Of course I know. I did my own research on both of you before I even applied here for a job. I’m not an idiot.” She poked him in the chest with a fingertip. “And I like him. He’s such a sweet man. Do you just not want your brother to be happy? Because I simply can’t believe you’d be that mean.”

  He wrapped his hand around the finger she’d shoved in his chest and invaded her personal space. The urge to kiss her, to touch her, was overwhelming. The woman was an addiction and he’d never even tasted her. He backed her up until she was against the door. All he wanted to do was take her right up against it, to shove her skirt up and sink deep inside her. “Of course I want him to be happy. I just worry he’ll get his heart broken. He’s… It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s my brother. I get to worry about him! And it’s none of your business.” And he could not make himself let go of her hand.

  “Fine. If it’s not my business, then this conversation is over!”

  “It’s not over!” It could never be over with her. He was pretty sure she literally just meant the conversation, but something about her tone made him panic, as if she meant they were over. Even if there was no ‘they.’

  She gave a half push against his chest. “It is over. And I’m not coming into work tomorrow. I’m taking a day off because if I have—”

  Hell no. He wasn’t letting her leave, wasn’t letting her not come in tomorrow. Seeing her was the best part of his day. Even arguing with her was better than anything else. Feeling absolutely possessed, he crushed his mouth over hers. To his utter fucking surprise she leaned into him immediately, moaning into his mouth as her fingers dug into his shoulders. He plunged a hand into her short hair, cupping the back of her head in a tight grip. He’d wanted to taste her for so long and now he didn’t want to let Lucy go.