Page 62 of Beautiful Enemy

“I thought you hated me. Why do you want to make me feel good?”

“Why not?” His words are cold and cruel and yet, the way he looks at me in the mirror doesn’t seem hateful. In fact, his eyes seem like they’re yearning for something more. Like maybe he doesn’t hate me at all.

Is this wishful, naïve thinking? It’s going to get me into trouble.

The charity event is hosted inside a large art museum in the heart of New York City.

I’ve been here before. Every year since Anya married Erik, I’ve attended with them. I always looked forward to getting dressed up and having a bit of fun but tonight, it’s the opposite. The only thing I’m filled with is worry and dread.

What exactly is Dante going to do tonight?

We both wear masks over our eyes, concealing our appearances. It’s a masquerade ball after all. Dante looks like the devil himself in his black mask and black suit.

He hands an invitation to a guard out front and we’re motioned right on through.

“How did you get an invitation?”

He shrugs. “I have my ways.”

I don’t want to know everything about Dante’s ‘ways.’ But most likely, he stole the invitation from someone else, maybe even killed them for it. I shiver.

The inside of the event is a spectacle. Gold chandeliers, sparkling centerpieces on the tables, a live orchestra, and all the guests in beautiful ballgowns and suits, dancing around the room.

I try to look for Erik or Anya but it’s impossible to see through all the people, especially since everyone has a mask on.

“What now?” I ask.

“Now, we dance.” He pulls me into his arms and twirls me onto the dance floor.

“Dante,” I object, but I don’t exactly pull away from him. I like how he touches me, like my entire body is going to light on fire in the best way possible.

“Just give in to me, Nadia. Your life will be much more fun if you do.”

“You want to break me to hurt my sister. I can’t let that happen.”

“Shame.” He pulls me closer against him, his hand resting on my low back. Dante has never actually touched me between my legs. Only I’ve done that. A deep, dark part of me wants him to touch me there just so I can experience it.

Then I see a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye and all my thoughts fall onto my sister.

“Anya,” I gasp, turning towards the woman with red hair. The woman is talking to an older man. When I get a better look, I see that it’s not Anya at all. Even with her mask on, I can tell she’s too old to be my sister.

“Don’t worry,” Dante murmurs. “We’ll find them.”

To hurt them, is his unspoken part of the sentence.

“But first, I want to have more fun with you.” He guides me through the crowd and after finding which table we’re seated at, we take our seats. A couple sits across from us but they’re busy chatting to each other and barely look in our direction. Not everyone who is in attendance at this event is part of the Bratva. Erik utilizes this event to help launder his money. It’s wrong but it’s common in the Bratva to do it. I’m sure it’s common amongst the Mafia too.

If Dante wanted to light this room up with gunfire, then he’d be hurting innocent people who have nothing to do with the war between Erik and himself.

“Drink?” he asks, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.

I take it and sip on it. Maybe a little bit of alcohol will help numb my worries. If Anya saw me right now, she’d be so disappointed in me.

“Where do you think your sister and Erik are?” he murmurs, glancing around the room.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t spotted them yet.”

“Well, in case they’re watching, I think we should give them a show, yes?”

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