The Enemy I can't Resist

CHAPTER 6

Maya's POV

The keycard felt like it was burning a hole through my palm.

I stared at Dario across the candlelit table, his steel-gray eyes challenging me, daring me to take the bait he'd so carefully laid out. The air between us crackled with tension so thick I could taste it.

Prove if you're worth my time.

His words echoed in my head as I felt his eyes studying every micro-expression, every tell that might give away what I was really thinking. This was a test. Everything about this moment was calculated, from the intimate setting to the way he'd placed that card just out of my immediate reach.

He wanted to see who I really was.

I lifted my gaze slowly, letting it travel from the keycard to his hands, up his arms, across the broad expanse of his chest, until I met those steel-gray eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

"Prove I'm worth your time," I repeated, my voice steadier than I felt. "That's quite an assumption you're making."

His lips curved into that predatory smile I was beginning to both fear and crave. "Is it?"

"Maybe you're the one who needs to prove you're worth mine."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, bold and reckless. For a moment, surprise flickered across his features—genuine surprise—and I realized that not many people challenged Dario Cassandro.

The surprise was quickly replaced by something darker, hungrier.

He leaned back in his chair, never breaking eye contact, and picked up his whiskey glass. The amber liquid caught the light as he swirled it slowly, deliberately.

"Tell me, Lia," he said, and the way he spoke my fake name made my stomach tighten. "What do you think this is?"

I tilted my head, mirroring his relaxed posture even though every nerve in my body was screaming with tension. "Dinner?"

"No." His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was steel beneath it. "This is an interview."

My pulse quickened. "For what position?"

His eyes darkened, and I saw something primitive and dangerous flash across his features. "That depends entirely on what you're willing to offer."

The double meaning wasn't lost on me. This wasn't just about whatever game he was playing, this was about power, control, and the electric attraction that had been building between us since the moment we met.

I reached for my glass, taking a slow sip of whiskey and letting the burn ground me. "I'm not in the habit of offering anything without knowing what I'm getting in return."

"Smart." He nodded approvingly. "I like that about you."

"What else do you like about me?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it, and I cursed myself internally. I was supposed to be in control here, supposed to be playing him. Instead, I found myself genuinely curious about his answer.

He set down his glass and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. The movement brought him closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne again, could see the faint scar along his jawline.

"You want the truth?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"You're not afraid of me. You should be, but you're not. That's either very brave or very stupid." His gaze traveled slowly over my face, as if he were memorizing every detail. "You're also lying about something, but you're good at it. Good enough that most people wouldn't notice."

My blood ran cold. "What makes you think I'm lying?"

"Because I'm very good at reading people, Lia. It's kept me alive this long." He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine where they rested next to my glass. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm. "The question is, what are you lying about?"

I forced myself not to pull away from his touch. "Maybe I just like to keep some mystery about myself."

"Mystery is one thing. Deception is another."

His thumb traced across my knuckles, the gesture almost tender if not for the warning in his voice. I found myself staring at his hands, strong, elegant, with calluses that spoke of more than just boardroom battles. These were hands that had seen violence, had dealt it out when necessary.

These were the hands of my enemy.

And yet, I didn't want him to stop touching me.

"Everyone has secrets, Dario," I said softly. "Even you."

Something shifted in his expression, a shadow passing over his features. "Yes. They do."

For a moment, the mask slipped, and I caught a glimpse of something raw and wounded beneath his controlled exterior. It was gone almost instantly, but it left me shaken.

He was human. Vulnerable, despite all his power and menace.

That made him infinitely more dangerous.

"Tell me about your family," he said suddenly, his fingers still tracing patterns on my skin.

My heart stuttered. "What?"

"Your family. Parents, siblings. The people who made you who you are."

This wasn't small talk, this was reconnaissance. He was fishing, trying to figure out who I really was, why I'd appeared in his world.

"My parents are gone," I said, which was true enough. "It's just me and my sister now."

His hand stilled on mine. "I'm sorry."

The sympathy in his voice caught me off guard. I'd expected probing questions, not genuine condolence.

"It was a long time ago," I lied.

"Everything matters, Lia. Every detail, every moment that shaped you into the woman sitting across from me." His grip tightened slightly on my hand. "I want to know all of it."

The intensity in his voice made my breath catch. This wasn't just curiosity—this was something deeper, more consuming. He didn't just want to know about me; he wanted to possess every piece of information, every secret, every part of my history.

It should have terrified me.

Instead, it sent a thrill through me that I couldn't explain.

"That's a dangerous proposition," I whispered.

"I told you... I like danger."

He lifted our joined hands, pressing my palm flat against his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin through the expensive fabric of his shirt.

"Can you feel that?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"That's what you do to me, Lia. From the moment I saw you in that ballroom, my heart hasn't beaten normally." His eyes searched mine, looking for something I wasn't sure I could give him. "So tell me—what are you going to do about it?"

The question hung between us, loaded with possibility and threat in equal measure. I could feel the walls I'd built around myself beginning to c***k under the pressure of his intensity.

This was my chance. My opportunity to get closer to him, to find the weakness I could exploit for my revenge.

So why did it feel like I was the one being hunted?

I pulled my hand free from his and reached for the keycard, my fingers closing around the smooth plastic. The black surface felt cold against my heated skin, a stark reminder of what this moment really was.

A crossroads.

A point of no return.

"I guess we'll find out," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His smile was pure predator. "Room 1247. Midnight."

"Midnight?" I raised an eyebrow. "A little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I like drama almost as much as I like danger." He stood, buttoning his suit jacket with fluid grace. "Besides, anticipation makes everything more... intense."

He moved around the table, stopping behind my chair. I could feel the heat of his body, the weight of his presence pressing down on me like a physical force.

"Wear something that won't take long to remove," he murmured against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the keycard clutched in my trembling fingers and the terrifying realization that I was in far deeper than I'd ever intended to go.

I stared at the keycard in my palm, my reflection distorted in its black surface. The woman looking back at me seemed like a stranger, flushed, disheveled, eyes bright with something that looked dangerously close to anticipation.

Midnight. Room 1247. Three hours to decide if I was brave enough to walk into the lion's den.

As I sat there surrounded by the remnants of our dangerous dance, I began to suspect the game had shifted, evolved into something more complex than simple revenge. Now it was about survival.

And I wasn't entirely sure who would emerge victorious.