Page 68 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
“Well,” he says gruffly. “Thank you, Blackwell. For your… prompt response.”
“Happy to assist a potential partner,” Christopher replies smoothly, the businessman firmly back in place.
Oh, right. The unsigned deal. The partnership. Project Nightingale. The thing that underpins this whole bizarre dynamic.
The crisis momentarily made me forget we’re still technically adversaries negotiating a very complex takeover slash rescue mission.
As did the mind-blowing sex.
But I digress.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of site inspections (from a safe distance), meetings with investigators, calls to worried families, and endless logistical wrangling.
Christopher stays until the immediate crisis is contained and a clear plan for the next 24 hours is established. He never once mentions Project Nightingale or uses the situation to leverage his position.
He just… helps.
Efficiently.
Effectively.
Then, with a brief nod to me and my father, he and his security entourage melt back into the city. Just like that.
Gone.
Leaving me standing there amidst the wreckage, and feeling strangely… bereft?
Exhaustion hitsme like a physical blow the moment I unlock my apartment door hours later. I shed my dust-covered clothes, shower until the water runs cold, and collapse onto my sofa wearing nothing but an old, oversized t-shirt. My muscles ache. My brain feels like scrambled eggs.
But underneath the bone deep weariness, there’s a strange... hum. Like the adrenaline hasn’t fully faded.
And... I miss him.
Which is ridiculous. Utterly, certifiably insane.
But it’s true.
I miss the sex. I miss our conversations.
I miss...him.
Working beside him today, seeing that sharp mind focus on problem solving, witnessing his quiet command… it was so different from the dominant lover of the night before, so different from the cool negotiator, different even from the vulnerable man who admitted his barriers this morning.
There are just so many facets to the infuriatingly complex Christopher Blackwell.
I wonder if I’ll ever truly understand him.
And what about the shift between us? It’s undeniable. We started as enemies. Became reluctant collaborators. Then… lovers? And now today, partners in crisis.
It’s an emotional roller coaster on a grand scale.
Where do we even go from here? Can we untangle the personal from the professional? He’s poised to invest potentially millions to save my company, effectively becoming my boss slash partner slash savior. And I… I slept with him.
More than slept with him.
Isurrenderedto him in a way I never have with anyone. Not just once. But twice.
How does thatnotcomplicate things? He holds all the power, financially, and now, maybe, emotionally too?
