Page 26 of Ruined By the Enemy
Two phone calls later, I find out where the meeting is being held—at a high-end rooftop bar in a hotel owned by the Moretti Group.
After making up an excuse to avoid hanging out with Amara, I leave my apartment at nine and take a cab to the hotel in a small black dress, my hair brushed neatly, and a simple diamond necklace I haven’t worn in years.
What is it with billionaires and late-night meetings?
I walk into the building like I belong there, head high, pace casual. The staff barely glance at me as I step into the elevator and press the button for the rooftop.
The doors slide open onto a sleek, dimly lit hallway with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side and a velvet rope cutting off access to the rooftop bar at the far right end. A uniformed guard stands just beyond it.
I don’t stop.
I make it three steps past the elevator before he speaks. “Ma’am.”
I pause, turn slowly, blinking like I’m startled. “Yes?”
“Do you have an invite?”
I had not anticipated the question, so my silence gives me away. He holds a hand out, stopping me. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go any further.”
My head tilts as I glance at the rope. “Why not? I’m meeting with Mr. Moretti. I’m sure he must’ve informed you. I’m—” I pause, a force of habit whenever I have to pull my secret weapon “—Sophie Bellini.”
He frowns, and I can tell he has no idea who I am or what my last name means.Thanks to the Morettis.
Irritation lodges in my chest, but I push it away and plaster a smile. “Go and ask him if you’re not convinced.”
“Go,” I insist, picking off an invisible lint from my sleeve. “I’ll wait. It might cost you your job, but I’ll be polite enough to wait.”
I watch his expression flicker between doubt and uncertainty, but he ultimately chooses the latter. “Wait here,” he grunts before walking off.
Sweet.As soon as he’s out of sight, I make my move, walking in the opposite direction instead of tiptoeing after him.
If I know anything about men like Domenico Moretti, it’s that they never do the obvious thing.
I pass two doors before I hear it. A faint murmur of voices. Muffled but unmistakably tense. I slow down, heels now silent on the thick carpet. I stop short of the next door and press my back against the wall, straining to make out the words.
The noise coming from the other end, the occupied area of the bar, probably, “I don’t care what Ricci promised—”
I lean in closer. The next second, a hand wraps around my wrist.
“What the—?”
I barely get the words out before I’m yanked back, hard. The door behind me flies open, and I’m pulled into a darkened room that I didn’t see before. I stumble over the threshold, catching my balance only when my back hits something cold—glass, maybe. My heart hammers against my ribs.
The door slams shut.
A lock clicks.
And then I hear his voice. It sounds low, amused, and far too close.
“You really need to work on your stealth, sweetheart.”
Chapter Seven
Dom
Sophie’s warm breath spreads across my face as my grip loosens around her wrist while her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the room.
“I—”
