The Enemy I can't Resist

CHAPTER 3

Maya's Pov*

(A week later— Gala night)

"You must be crazy if you think this is a good idea."

Ava sounded frustrated, but I hardly looked up from the mirror while putting on a final coat of dark red lipstick. It was bold. Seductive. Dangerous. Exactly the kind of statement I needed to make tonight.

Ava sat on my bed with her arms crossed, glaring at me like I had just announced I was about to commit suicide.

"Maya, I mean it. This isn’t just a fancy party where you just drink champagne and try to fit in." She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Dario Cassandro doesn’t meet women. He hunts them. If you walk into that ballroom, you’re walking straight into the lion’s den."

I capped my lipstick and turned to face her. "I know."

"Then don’t go," she pleaded. "You’re playing a dangerous game, and this isn’t some corporate sabotage bullshit. This is the Cassandros."

She wasn’t wrong.

Dario Cassandro wasn’t just another billionaire with power at his fingertips. He was a man who was power. Untouchable. Feared. Ruthless.

And him and his family had taken everything from me.

I glanced down at the sleek black invitation card that was placed on my dressing table

The embossed gold lettering gleaming under the dim light: Private Event – The Haven Hotel. Invitation Only.

My pulse quickened.

I had paid a fortune just to get my hands on this invitation and hell be damned if I don't make good use of it.

Tonight, behind the exclusive doors of The Haven, the city’s most powerful men would gather. Politicians, crime bosses, billionaires—all in one place. And among them would be the one man she hated most.

Dario Cassandro.

A wolf among wolves.

He had never seen her before. But after tonight? He would.

I had waited years for this moment.

To get close. To find his weakness.

To make him pay.

Her fingers clenched around the invitation. “I have to do this, Ava," I said quietly, probably for the twentieth time since we overhead that conversation back at the Black Lotus.

Her expression softened. "Maya—"

I looked back at the mirror, fixing the thin strap of my black dress. It hugged my body tightly, the slit high enough to be bold, the neckline just revealing enough of my ample chest. A calculated choice.

If I wanted to get close to Dario Cassandro, I needed to make sure he came to me.

"You can still back out," Ava tried again, her voice gentler this time. "We’ll find another way. Just say the word, and we’ll binge-watch true crime documentaries and eat ice cream instead of throwing you to the wolves.”

I smiled softly at that, but it didn’t reach my eyes. I met her gaze through the mirror. "There is no other way."

Silence.

Then, finally, a defeated sigh. "Then just take this,” she said, standing up and putting something cold and metal in my hand.

A small pocket knife with a silver blade.

I blinked. "Ava—"

“Just in case,” she said strongly. “I know you believe you’re in control, but if he even looks at you the wrong way, you’ll need this.”

I swallowed hard, wrapping my fingers around the knife and slipping it quietly into the hidden pocket of my dress.

Ava shook her head, looking at me as if she wanted to either strangle me or give me a hug. "Be careful."

I gave her a small smile. "I always am."

But we both knew that was a lie.

****

As I walked through the big entrance of the Haven Hotel, I instantly felt like I didn’t belong. The luxury was intense—crystal chandeliers lit up the large ballroom with golden light, and the sound of clinking champagne glasses blended with the chatter of the city’s rich.

My throat felt tight with nerves.

This was his world.

And tonight, I had just walked straight into enemy territory.

Find Dario Cassandro. Get close. Get what I need.

That was the plan.

It didn’t matter that my heart was pounding. That every instinct screamed at me to run.

I took a slow breath, forcing myself to move deeper into the crowd.

No turning back now.

And by gods, I didn’t belong here. Practically everywhere I turned had wealth screaming all over it.

But fortunately, I had spent years learning how to pretend.

I raised my chin and let my eyes scan the room as if I truly belonged. My heart beat steadily in my chest as I walked deeper inside, my heels clicking on the shiny marble floor.

I knew what I needed to find.

And I found him within seconds.

Dario Cassandro stood at the center of the room, surrounded by men who either feared or respected him. He wore a sharp black suit, neat and perfect, one that showed power and ruthlessness.

Even among the wealthy and the shady, he was different.

Tall. Cold. Unreadable.

His jet-black hair was pushed back, with a bit of rough stubble on his sharp jaw. But it was his eyes that caught my breath—dark and sharp, like a predator observing everything.

And God, was he watching.

Even without looking directly at me, I could feel it.

A slow, inevitable pull.

As if he could sense something was off.

A shiver went down my spine, but I made myself step forward, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, I held it carefully between my fingers, as if I truly belonged in this world of riches and deceit.

I was near, but I couldn’t let him see me. Not yet.

“You lost, sweetheart?"

The voice was too close. Careful to keep my expression neutral, I turned slightly, finding myself face to face with a man.

He was older, graying, his expensive suit doing nothing to soften the sharp, dangerous glint in his eyes.

Jesus Christ, what was it with me and older men recently?

"You don’t look like the usual crowd," he mused, eyes raking over me or should I say my boobs. "New?"

I gave him a practiced smile. "Just here to enjoy the evening.”

His lips curled. "Is that so?"

Before I could respond, the air shifted. A slow, creeping awareness sliding down my spine.

And then I felt it.

Him.

A voice, smooth and deadly, cut through the noise like a blade.

"Matteo, is there a problem?"

I felt a chill run down my neck.

Slowly, deliberately, I turned—and locked eyes with Dario Cassandro. Another chill ran down my neck again.

Slowly, I turned—and met Damien Morello’s gaze head-on.

Our eyes locked.

Time stretched.

My breath hitched, my entire body locking up as I took him in from mere inches away.

God.

The photos didn’t do him justice.

He was intimidating up close—broad-shouldered, effortlessly confident, his presence suffocating in the worst and best ways. It was not in an obvious way, but in the quiet, effortless control he exuded. His presence was dominant. Like gravity itself bent around him.

Those dark steel-grey unreadable eyes held me captive, drinking me in with a slow, meticulous gaze.

And suddenly, I was hyper aware of my plunging neckline and the slit on my dress which felt a little bit daring right now.

I forced myself to breathe.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t frowning.

He was studying me.

Assessing. Calculating.

Like he was deciding whether I was worth his time… or his wrath.

Matteo shifted beside me. “Not at all, boss. Just making conversation.”

Damien didn’t take his eyes off me. “Is that so?”

Silence stretched, coiling around me like an unspoken challenge.

I knew better than to fill it.

Instead, I kept his gaze steady, my face calm and relaxed, even though my heart raced.

“I was about going,” I said casually, acting like it didn’t matter."

But Damien’s gaze didn’t waver.

“You’re new,” he said, his voice was low, deep, dangerous.

I arched a brow. "And you keep track of every woman who attends these events?"

A flicker of something passed through his gaze—amusement? Interest?

His lips curved slightly. "Only the ones who don’t belong."

My stomach knotted, but I maintained my smile.

"I was invited."

"By whom?"

A test. A trap.

I tilted my head, allowing my lips to form a smile that was almost playful. "And what if I said it was someone more important than you?"

Matteo made a noise—half scoff, half warning—but Damien...

Damien just smiled.

It was the type of smile that didn’t touch his eyes. The kind that said he was playing with his food.

"I think you’re lying.”

My fingers curled subtly around the stem of my champagne glass.

I was playing with fire.

But that was the point, wasn’t it?

To get close.

To make him see me.

To make him want to see me.

So I stepped forward a little, reducing the distance between us to a whisper.

"Maybe I don’t want to share my secrets so easily,” I said softly, playfully biting my lower lip.

A sharp look flashed in his eyes.

"That’s too bad,” he said casually, reaching into his pocket and a second later, a sleek black card was between his fingers.

"Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. The St. Regis Hotel."

My pulse skipped, but my face still remained blank.

"What makes you think I’ll show up?" I asked, tilting my head.

Damien’s grin grew wider, his eyes briefly dropping to my boobs and then my lips before meeting my eyes again.

"Because I’m interested now.”

And just like that, I got what I wanted.

His attention.

But as he turned away, disappearing back into the crowd, a cold truth settled in my chest.

I hadn’t trapped him.

He had trapped me.

And tomorrow, I’d be stepping straight into his cage.