Page 30 of Ruined By the Enemy
Letter of Resignation.
Dear Mr. Moretti. Thank you for the opportunity…
“No!” I protest, slapping a hand to the screen. I can’t quit, not now when I’ve only just begun.
“His father killed your parents,” I remind myself. “His family took everything that belonged to you, and it’s only right you take it back.”
It’s called retribution.
Besides, he could be up to his usual tactics, pulling impossible deadlines from his ass so I end up looking like an idiot. And if not, I’m prepared to use every lie in my book of tricks. Dom might be successful, smart, and maybe good at tripping up people, but he didn’t spend years dreaming of revenge.
I did, and I’m not about to let some entitled, smug, impossibly difficult man get in my way, no matter what power he claims to have over me.
My knock is brisk, and his response is immediate.
“Come in.”
A flicker of unease skitters down my spine—just a split-second hesitation—before I grip the handle and push the door open.
Dom isn’t behind his desk.
He’s standing by the window instead, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something amber. The late afternoon light casts him in gold, outlining the hard lines of his back and the broad stretch of his shoulders beneath a crisp white shirt.
“Have a seat, Miss Greco,” he says without turning.
Oh?
So we’re doing titles today.
I take a slow step forward, my gaze trailing down the length of him—the tailored slacks that hug his hips just right, the rolled cuffs of his sleeves revealing strong forearms, the faint flex of muscle as he raises the glass to his lips.
I drag the chair forward an inch before I sit, letting the sound slice through the silence like a provocation.
He doesn’t react or look at me.
Just keeps staring out the window, holding me hostage in the quiet.
“Sir?”
“There’s a file on my desk. It’s your next assignment. It should be easy for you, since it’s a much smaller company than the one you last worked with. It might be a bit trickier, though—” He turns, his eyes locking into mine. “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
How he says it—low, edged with something that hums beneath the surface—makes heat lick my neck. His instruction is momentarily forgotten as my mind flashes back to last night.
Not the interrogation or being forced to come up with a lie on the spot. But the way he cornered me against the wall, theknowing smirk that crept up his face, and the heat… god, it’s always hot, that crawled down my body and slipped between my thighs.
I felt it long after he walked out of the room, a duller ache from the morning after when we had sex.
“Miss Greco,” he repeats, pointing to his desk. “File?”
I shift in my seat and reach for the file, snapping the tension like a rubber band pulled too tight. “Right,” I say, flipping it open with more force than necessary.At least his antics keep me on my toes.
The more stunts he pulls, the more I can remind myself who he truly is.
“It’s a construction company,” he says as I go through the briefing on the first page. “They’re relatively small, but they’ve won two big contracts over the last three years. I’m not sure why they’ve chosen not to expand, but they’ve brought enough reputation that I’ve decided they’re worth buying.”
“Buy?” The chair scrapes the floor as I turn. “You want to buy the company? I thought… I thought you just acquired two? Doesn’t that seem hasty and a bit reckless?”
Dom peels his hand from his pocket as he walks across the room, his strides paced as they cut the distance between us. A shiver runs down my spine and my stomach flips as his gaze locks on me, sucking the air from the room.
