Seducing the enemy

Lines Blurred

It started as a perfectly boring evening. Ethan Alcaster had dragged me—well, technically “invited” me—to a dinner meeting with some high-profile client he was trying to charm. My job? Stand by, look competent, and make sure no one ran out of bourbon or business cards.

The restaurant was as ridiculous as expected: dim lighting, rich leather chairs, and a wine list so expensive it probably required a credit check just to hold it. Ethan, of course, was thriving. His smile was easy, his laugh deep and practiced, and the way he leaned in just enough when speaking to the client made it seem like they were old friends catching up over drinks.

I stood near the edge of the room, watching him with the vague irritation of someone who can’t decide if they’re impressed or annoyed. He was infuriatingly good at this, which only reminded me how much I hated him—and how annoyingly attractive he was when he unbuttoned his suit jacket just slightly to sit down.

I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes for the third time that evening. My only consolation was the dessert menu I’d spotted on the way in. If Ethan was going to drag me through this ordeal, I was at least getting something with chocolate out of it.

But then it happened.

It started with a voice—loud, angry, and slightly slurred—cutting through the low hum of conversation. My gaze snapped to the source: a man near the bar, arguing with a server. He was unsteady on his feet, his words thick with alcohol, and the way he gestured wildly made it clear he wasn’t just here for the crab cakes.

I watched with mild curiosity as the argument escalated, the man’s voice rising. But when he shoved his jacket aside to reach into his waistband, my stomach dropped.

There it was. A gun.

For a second, I just stared.

It wasn’t shock, exactly. It was more… annoyance. Of course, this had to happen now. Of course, it had to happen here. And, of course, the person sitting directly in harm’s way was Ethan Alcaster himself.

I glanced at him. He hadn’t noticed the commotion yet, too busy dazzling the client with some charming anecdote. He was laughing, his hand casually resting on the back of his chair, completely oblivious to the fact that danger was literally twenty feet away.

I looked back at the man with the gun, then at Ethan again.

And for a solid five seconds, I genuinely considered letting him figure it out on his own.

I mean, what was I even doing here? This wasn’t part of the plan. Nowhere in my mission to destroy The Alcaster Corporation had I accounted for “saving Ethan Alcaster’s ridiculously handsome face from getting blown off.”

Would it really be so bad if I just… stood here?

The thought lingered longer than it probably should have.

But then I imagined the headlines.

“CEO Ethan Alcaster Killed in Restaurant Shooting While Assistant Watches from the Salad Bar.”

Not a great look.

I groaned under my breath, already regretting what I was about to do.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

The man at the bar raised the gun, shouting something unintelligible, and before I could talk myself out of it, I was moving.

I reached Ethan just as the first shot rang out, yanking him out of his chair so hard he nearly toppled over.

“What the—”

“Get down!” I hissed, shoving him behind the table as chaos erupted around us. Plates shattered, chairs scraped against the floor, and the sound of people screaming filled the air.

Ethan landed on the floor with a thud, his head snapping up to glare at me. “What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, nothing much,” I said dryly, crouching next to him. “Just your standard ‘drunk guy with a gun’ situation. Thought I’d let you know.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you decided to handle it by throwing me on the floor?”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” I snapped.

He opened his mouth to retort but stopped when another shot echoed through the restaurant. His gaze shifted, the tension in his body palpable as he realized just how serious the situation was.

I peeked over the edge of the table, my heart pounding. The man was waving the gun wildly now, shouting at no one in particular.

“This is ridiculous,” Ethan muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Ridiculous?” I turned to him, incredulous. “You’re hiding behind a table while someone waves a gun around, and your main concern is that it’s inconvenient?”

He gave me a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “I didn’t say inconvenient. I said ridiculous.”

Before I could respond, security stormed in, tackling the man and disarming him in a matter of seconds. The commotion subsided, the room falling into a stunned silence as the dust settled.

I let out a slow breath, realizing too late that I was still pressed against Ethan. My hands were on his shoulders, his body warm and solid beneath me.

“Miss D’Angelo,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I wasn’t aware that ‘bodyguard’ was in your job description.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from him and straightening my blazer. “It’s not. Consider it a one-time favor.”

Ethan stood, brushing himself off. “Well, if this is what your favors look like, remind me to never piss you off.”

I gave him a tight smile, ignoring the faint flutter in my chest as he adjusted his tie. He looked far too composed for someone who’d just been tackled to the ground.

“You saved my life,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now.

I shrugged, keeping my voice light. “Don’t get used to it.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and for a split second, I forgot why I hated him so much.

Back in the car, the tension between us was different. It wasn’t the usual push and pull of sarcastic remarks and sharp glances. It was quieter, heavier.

Ethan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at me. “Why did you do it?”

I stared out the window, pretending the streetlights were far more interesting than they actually were. “Do what?”

“Risk yourself like that. You didn’t have to.”

I turned to face him, my expression unreadable. “I couldn’t exactly let you get shot in the middle of a restaurant. It would’ve ruined the evening.”

His mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “You’re not what I expected, you know that?”

I arched a brow. “What did you expect?”

He studied me for a long moment, his gray eyes softening. “I’m still figuring that out.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. But then I turned back to the window, breaking the moment.

“Well, let me know when you do,” I said lightly.

His chuckle was soft, and I hated how much I liked the sound of it.