Page 9 of Ruined By the Enemy
Snatching my phone from my bag, I open my browser, and my thumbs fly across the search bar.
“What am I doing?” I sigh as I stare at the enter button.
Everything relies on you now. If you fail, then the work we’ve been doing for the past sixteen years will have been for nothing.
“Right,” I mumble.
I’m not looking for a buzz that’ll die out when Dom gets his slew of lawyers to sue the channel or app. Even if it reaches the news outlets, he’ll probably stop it from being aired.
I can’t make half-assed attempts. I get only one chance, and I’m not allowed to fail.
My screen chimes, and my chest rises with an exhale as I straighten and click on the mail. It’s the document he said I’d get.
Rideover Construction.
It’s a subsidiary unit under a billion-dollar company with rumors of financial difficulties and debt. There’ve been talks about the company selling Rideover, but nothing has been confirmed.
He wants me to make an offer too good to refuse.
“I see,” I mutter, reaching for my glasses. I slip them on and push my chair closer to the computer.Four hours?I scoff. I’ve been training for this all my life.
***
The roar of the engine drowns out every other sound as the car stops at the edge of the private tarmac. I open the passenger’s side door and step out as the driver hurries to get the back door for Dom.
A private jet. A private tarmac. Judging by its size, the plane itself looks like it cost a fortune.
A uniformed man walks down the stairs and hurries towards us, wearing a smile. He nods briefly in my direction before extending his hand towards Dom. “Mr. Moretti. I didn’t think you would be taking a trip anytime soon.”
“It was unexpected, Michael. Thanks for showing up.”
I almost snort. Unexpected? Or was it well-intended to throw the new attorney off her game, so he could brag about how right he was?
And the jet. If his family hadn’t taken everything from my family and fled to the US, he’d never be able to afford it.
A lump rises in my throat, and my nostrils flare as my breathing shallows, but I force myself to keep moving to put enough distance between us. I settle at the back of the plane and promptly close my eyes, shutting everything out.
It doesn’t quiet my thoughts, though.
Or the words I’ve heard every single day since I turned eleven.
The Morettis killed your parents. Your father trusted them, and they betrayed him. They took everything that should’ve been yours and left you to suffer.
My uncle never allowed me to forget. Each time I asked for something, he reminded me that he couldn’t afford it because the Morettis stole the Bellinis’ wealth and their lives.
It was my duty to avenge them and reclaim what belonged to me.
“Are you prepared?” Dom’s voice pulls me out of my reverie.
I peek at him from half-open eyes. “Would you prefer I got on without being prepared?”
I get no response—not that I was waiting for one anyway—before he retreats to a seat at the front of the plane. I close my eyes again, intending to push him out of sight, but he occupies my mind instead.
This time, it’s the smell of chocolate. Dark chocolate wafts through the air, sinking into my thoughts and clouding my head.
I inhale without meaning to, and the effect is a trickle of warmth that flows through my skin, gathering a pool in my stomach.
Get your head together, Sophie, I hiss under my breath as I shut my eyes even tighter, while mentally forcing the scent from conjuring up a vivid image of Dom seated a couple of feet away from me, his shoulders spread across the chair as he leans back and his shirt tight around his arms when he folds them.
