Love On The Enemy Lines

Chapter 1

The ballroom shimmered in gold light and soft laughter—each night different, yet somehow the same, when everyone smiled a bit too perfectly and secrets donned designer gowns.

Seamless grace executed a course through the crowd, her glass of champagne untouched. To most people, she was the very picture of composure—the beloved sister of a tech billionaire named Brad Monroe, cofounder of MonKnight, and its quiet force behind his charity foundation—but beneath that smile still lay a heart that ached for something-or-or-or-or-or-or—or rather, someone—she had sworn never to think of again.

That was the verdict, and five years was long enough to forget him.

Jason Knight.

His name had been a word of betrayal within her family’s home, one Brad had forbidden even a mention of. Yet, memories aren’t as compliant with rules as others might be. Selena could still hear the echoes of Jason’s laughter in their beach house, how he would challenge Brad to take breaks from his non-stop work, or the warmth of his eyes upon her—like he saw right through the polished world they all acted belonged to.

“Selena,” her brother cut through the music, his voice warm but firm. Brad’s tall frame towered as he approached, dressed in a custom tux that spoke volumes of control and money. “You’re distracted. Smile—the press is everywhere tonight.”

She forced one. “I am smiling.”

He eyed her a moment, the only way a big brother could—nondiscriminatingly protective and proud, oblivious to the ache she concealed. “Good. Because tonight is about legacy. No distractions.

Legacy. That was Brad’s favorite word.

As he walked off to greet another investor, Selena turned toward the balcony, craving air more than company. The glitter of the city below her was alive with lights and promise. She drew a quiet breath, letting the cool breeze tangle through her hair — and that’s when she felt it.

That pull.

It felt as if the air had shifted, charged with something unmistakably familiar, forbidden. She turned, and her heart stumbled in her chest.

There he was.

Jason Knight—taller, sharper, somehow more magnetic than she remembered. The man her brother called a thief. The man she once adored.

He shouldn’t have been here. Not at a MonKnight-sponsored event. Not standing there with that intent, quiet gaze, like five years had never passed.

Their eyes met, and in that single moment, the past and present collided. Every emotion she’d buried churned to the surface—shock, anger, longing, and precariously close to hope.

Jason’s lips arced just a little, a ghost of that familiar smile. “Hello, Selena.”

Her fingers closed around her glass. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I got an invitation,” he whispered, advancing toward me. “From the fates, I suppose.”

Her pulse skipped. She wanted to turn and walk away — she should — but her heart refused to obey. And in one swift moment, as people were about to fill the hall out of pretentious ignorance, the first crack appeared in the wall that separated love from loyalty.