Page 22 of Ruined By the Enemy
Amara doesn’t respond right away. Her mouth opens like she’s going to say something, but she closes it again, blinking a few times. Then, with a tight smile, she nods. “I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me. I’m… hurt. Just a little. You know I’d support you, even if it wasn’t the most practical decision in the world.”
“I know.” I shift in my seat, guilt prickling under my skin.
She takes a slow sip of her water and studies me over the rim of the bottle. “Is that all, or is there more?”
Note to self:Absolutely do not mention that you slept with your new boss. Not yet anyway, because it’s bound to come out at some point.
“That’s all,” I say, although it feels like I’m lying to myself, not her.
Her expression turns wary, like she can tell something is going on. “Sophie? What are you hiding?”
I shake my head, blinking twice and pursing my lips. “Nothing. Why?”
She untucks her legs and walks over to me, taking the bottle from my hand. “You know I’m going to find out one way or another, so you might as well tell me now. Starting from where you’re working—because you always wanted to open your firm, and I can’t imagine you managed to do that in a week.”
My prolonged pause is all she needs. Her eyes narrow. “Sophie.”
“Don’t freak out.”
“No promises.”
I run a hand through my hair, glance at the ceiling, and mutter under my breath, “I may have slept with someone.”
Her head tilts like a curious cat, but she manages to hold it in. “Okay. A bit shocking. Not because you’re smoking hot, but I didn’t peg you for the kind to get it down on a business trip.”
“But,” she shrugs. “He’s probably hot too. Was it casual, or is he already picking out matching pajama sets?”
I hesitate again, and it doesn’t take a second for her to connect the dots. Her eyes widen, and her gasp is furious. “Oh God. Is it your new boss?”
I don’t answer.
“It’s your boss,” she breathes, then covers her face with her hands and groans. “Jesus, Sophie. You really went for the full rebrand, huh?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I argue weakly. “I—” I stop. What would I say? I teased my boss and called him a prude, so he kissed me? It sounds like something from a power-play handbook.
And Amara is the one who does the exploring, not me.
She steps back, still shocked. “How? You’ve been working for him for how long?”
I raise a hand. Then drop two fingers. She lets out a huffed sigh. “Oh, Sophie. Three days? You might’ve broken a global record. Not that many people end up in bed with their boss in less than seventy-two hours and naked at that.”
As if I haven’t done enough damage, hearing the wordnakedconjures up an image of a shirtless Dom with his hand reaching for his zipper, pulling down his pants slowly, with his erection straining hard against the fabric.
Oh god.
“It was a mistake,” I say firmly, turning away from her. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“Except it’s not like you, so I’m having trouble believing it’s a one-time thing,” she argues.
My mouth flattens into a thin line. “Oh, it is. I’m certain.”
Because I’d rather take a century-long celibacy vow than be in the same room with Domenico Moretti again, not to mention being anywhere close to naked.
The only thing I’d be committed to is bringing him down.
Amara walks back to the couch and collapses on it. “I see why you wanted that drink. Now I’m wishing I brought a bottle too.”
I’m about to suggest going out to get one when my phone rings from my bag. “Is that your boss?” Amara asks. “Maybe he’s calling to tell you it wasn’t casual for him,” she jokes.
