Page 72 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

Ethan stood up, still holding onto the legal papers. "This is all my fault. That night was my idea, and I'll deal with this."

"What? You don't have to do that."

He shoved the documents back into the envelope, then placed them on top of his desk. "I'm not going to argue with you about it. I promise you it's nothing to worry about, and I'll take care of it."

Something about his words seemed kind of sinister. "You, um, don't have ties with the mafia, do you?"

Ethan laughed, the moment lightening. "I wouldn't say if I did." He stepped closer, putting a hand on my shoulder, making me momentarily forget what we were talking about. "Listen, Aria, will you let me take you out tonight? Get your mind off everything?"

I straightened my skirt, not sure I was dressed for going out. "Like right now?"

"Right now. Come on, babe. Let's not let that asshole ruin our celebration." He leaned in closer, making me shiver. "And besides, you look fucking hot in that skirt, and I want to show you off."

Twenty-Three

Ethan

Truthfully, she always looked hot. But today, there was something about her. Maybe it was the sexy work outfit, the sheerness of her top, the way her skirt accentuated her hips, or maybe it was just her aura. But whatever it was, I knew I was about to be seriously tested.

That promise earlier that I wouldn't touch her was going to be the death of me. Already, I'd broken it by holding her hand and leading her through my office. That had been for appearances, however, so it was technically still allowed. Or at least that's what I told myself.

I remembered the surge of pride I'd felt as I'd walked with her, introducing her to everyone, my two worlds colliding in a way that made me actually happy, content, something I didn't know I could even feel.

Of course it wasn't real though, and I needed to remind myself of that constantly. Aria wasn't mine.

"Okay," she said, smiling up at me. "I'll go out with you. But I need a few minutes to try to turn this outfit from day to night."

"Feel free to use my private bathroom." I pointed to the door. "And please tell me you don't have any bouillon cubes in that bag."

"Me?" She flashed an innocent grin my way. "Of course not."

While I waited, I said goodbye to a few remaining employees, kicking them out, telling them to go home and relax, especially David who was beyond hyped up. I could understand why. Seeing Chase stumble like that had been the ultimate high.

I came back to my chair, spinning it around so I could look out the window at the glittering lights of Manhattan. I felt like a king tonight, success flowing through my veins, not caring a bit about Chase's grandstanding lawsuit, knowing that I had right on my side, and more importantly, Aria fucking Stratton on my side.

Even if it was all for show, we were a team again. And I liked that more than I cared to admit.

The bathroom door opened, and Aria came into view. For a minute, I forgot myself and just outright stared at her and the changes she'd made. Her top was unbuttoned almost to the point of indecency, showing off some serious cleavage, and her skirt seemed shorter somehow, making her legs look miles long.

Once I dragged my gaze up to her face, I noticed the icing on the cake—her smoked-out eye makeup, making her appear mysterious and sexy as hell, not to mention her hair which had that just-fucked look.

"Damn, woman."

When she came closer, her scent hit me, sinful and sultry at the same time. Yeah, this night was going to be pure torture. It took everything in me not to pull her to me and kiss the hell out of her.

But I somehow resisted, instead simply asking, "Ready?"

She nodded, something unsaid in her expression, and I took her arm, trying my best to be a gentleman and not act like some horny adolescent with only one thing on his mind.

We left the office building behind, stepping out into the cool spring night, where I quickly hailed a cab and gave directions to a place I thought Aria might like.

"Where are we going?" she said, adjusting her skirt, a pointless activity if you asked me.

I eyed all that leg on display, dying to touch her, memories of that night in Paris flashing through my mind. My hand itched to feel all that softness again, her silky, smooth skin.

"You'll see," I belatedly answered, remembering she'd asked a question.

"You said the same thing earlier. You're very mysterious this evening. Or abstruse I should say."

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