Page 5 of My Enemy, My Obsession

“Does she think Moore’s is the right move for you?”

“Why?” I ask, and not because I’m avoiding the topic of my mother, though on some level I am. Her death cuts deeply. I’m not sure if it’s smart for this man to know that part of me. “Is there something wrong with Moore’s?”

“It depends on what you want. Store brands are not Prada. Which do you want to become?”

“Prada, of course.”

“Then you don’t want this offer.”

“What if I don’t get another offer?”

“You won’t if you take this one. But do the work, get them to offer, and then that becomes part of your résumé. They offered. You walked away.”

But I might not get another offer,I repeat in my head.Prada, though, I think. I want to be Prada.

He sets his glass down, and the pressure of my career decision is quite overwhelming, as is the pressure to get up and walk away from him. Liquid courage in the form of the strong, expensive stuff calls to me. I pick up his glass and down what is left, smoke burning down my throat.He arches a brow. I set the glass down. “You really are brutally honest. You just made what I thought was a dream come true feel like nothing.”

He leans in closer, close enough that I can see now that there are little flecks of blue in his green eyes. “I’m only saying what you need to hear. If you listen to what I just told you, I saved your dream. I didn’t destroy it.”

He flags the waiter and lifts his glass. “Bring us the bottle.”

My head buzzes a bit from the booze, and I say, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I already feel what I just drank.”

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he says, his voice a low, rough promise of sultry sin and, oh, so much pleasure. “If you ask me to.”

Heat crashes over us like the waves on the seashore followed by a rush of fire I feel in every part of me. It seems obvious what he suggests, but he’s pretty solidly out of my league. And yet, still I play the game.

“I might not ask,” I say, aware that something is happening between me and this man, aware that I’m losing my focus on a bigger picture, seduced by the man in the moment.

His eyes light with what I now believe he sees as a challenge, no matter how unintended. “Then I better enjoy every moment I get with you.”

Chapter Five

The waiter sets abottle of whiskey on the table and an extra glass filled with ice. “Can I pour for you?” he asks.

“Thank you, but I’ll handle it,” Ethan says, as if he wants a return to privacy.

I’m struck by his politeness, which doesn’t fully read like an arrogant asshole who’s uncaring of other people. It certainly doesn’t suggest he’s not a jerk, though. I’ve known a few men who could be as polite as a prince until they were angry or irritated. They’re the guys my father warns me about, and he’s usually not wrong.

He warned me about Ethan.

“Who lied to you?” Ethan asks, filling my glass.

I blink him into view and quickly wave off his pour. “That’s plenty. I don’t want to waste your expensive whiskey. Or is it Scotch?”

“Scotch whiskey,” he says, “though I don’t think that detail matters as long as you like it.”

I reach for my glass and sip again, savoring the smoky flavor. “Hmm…I do. I’m surprised. I guess it’s one of those things money makes better.”

“There are a lot of things that money makes better,” he says, “but not everything.”

It’s an interesting comment. “Like what?”

“Most relationships. If I could have walked up to you and had you be oblivious to my money, I’d have preferred it that way.”

It’s an unexpected confession, one that doesn’t read like something a man seeking a one-night stand would say, and surely, that’s what is going on between us. I caution myself about reading too much into this. In fact, sometimes a one-night stand, a stranger, is someone you can say things to that you’d never confess to a real acquaintance, someone you plan to see over and over.

“If I cared about your money or your position, I’d be asking you to let me run Moore’s entire design department. Instead, you’ve made me think about where I really want to be and how I go about achieving my goals. Also, for the record, you’re the kind of man my father warns me about.” Quite literally, the man,I add silently.

---