Page 14 of Ruined By the Enemy
He nods and starts to leave. “Wait,” I call him back. “Could you find someone from the reception to handle her?” I point to Sophie.
When he turns to me, I can hear the question he doesn’t voice out.Not me.If I touch her again, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself.
***
I stay behind in the lobby after Sophie heads upstairs, letting the silence settle over me like dust. Gathering my thoughts. And whatever’s left of my sanity.
“What the hell was that?” I mutter, pacing the carpeted floor of the seating area, dragging a hand down my face. I’d just acted like a high-schooler with a crush—or worse, a college kid one month into a dry spell and losing his mind.
Sophie Greco? Or rather, Sophie Bellini.
I scoff out loud.
It has to be some kind of cosmic prank. A cruel glitch in the simulation. Because if you asked me to name every woman I could possibly be attracted to, Sophie wouldn’t even make the honorable mentions.
For heaven’s sake, she’s the daughter of the man who killed my parents. And she’s here under pretense—working for me with a fake last name and an agenda I haven’t yet unraveled.
I should be focused on that. Not wrestling with a surge of emotions every time I get within ten feet of her.
Frustrated, disgusted with myself, and determined to shut this thing down before it grows fangs, I head to the penthouse.
I step inside to find Sophie sprawled on the couch, feet hanging off the edge, heels slipping halfway off. At least she’s out cold.
Her face is buried into the leather, but her hair is everywhere—wild, chaotic, like the aftermath of something indulgent. Something intimate.
No. I bite the inside of my cheek. “For fuck’s sake.”
Shrugging off my jacket, I turn away from the living room, needing space from her… from myself. But as I walk down the hall, I hear her murmur behind me.
“Hot.” Her voice reaches my ears as I hear her move. “It’s too hot.” My resolve lasts all of a minute before I turn around, in time to see her take her shirt off.
“What are you doing?” I stride back without thinking, grabbing her shirt just as she tosses it. “What the fuck are you doing, Sophie?”
Her eyes meet mine, and a smile curves her mouth. “I’m taking off my clothes. It’s really hot in here, don’t you think?”
“No,” I grab her wrist as she reaches for her skirt. “You’re drunk, that’s all. You should take a shower instead.”
“I want to take it off here.”
“No.” If I knew this would happen, I would’ve stopped her after one glass. “You can take it off in the bathroom.”
She makes a show of shaking her head from side to side. “Why? Are you shy? You sound like you’ve never seen a woman naked before. Have you, Mr. Moretti?” Her finger pokes my chest. “Have you seen a woman before, or does your frustration and annoying attitude come from your lack of expertise?”
I hate that I understand her. I want to feign ignorance and walk away, not taking the bait to her teasing.
“Am I right?” Sophie pushes. She throws back her head with a cackle when I don’t respond. “I am! I knew it. You have everything, but it turns out that not even money or a feature on the cover of GQ can bring a woman to pity you.”
I hold my tongue.I know better than to respond to taunts.
But Sophie takes it a step further as she pulls away from me, putting distance between us. She sighs and her mouth flattens in mock pity. “That’s so sad, Mr. Moretti. So, so sad. To be a big prude at your age.”
Her skirt falls off.
Fucking hell.
Her breasts are almost spilling out of her bra from the effort it took to get out of her skirt and underneath the skirt… lacepanties. The sheer material barely covers anything, and the patch that slides between her legs is a fucking slip that leaves much to the imagination.
I wipe my hand over my mouth as I curse under my breath.
