Falling for the Enemy

Ch.8

Eros Pov

The week after the Asante wedding, I should be celebrating. The wedding went off flawlessly—Prime Minister Asante’s daughter looked radiant, the Merchant's House was photographed for six different magazines, and our last-minute venue change is being hailed as "innovative event design" instead of disaster management.

This morning brought a personal call from Prime Minister Asante himself: "Eros, that venue was spectacular. Even better than the original. My daughter said it felt like a fairy tale." Then the bride's mother: "The Art Deco styling was absolutely perfect for the photos. We're recommending Valenti Corporations to everyone we know."

“Outstanding work on the Asante’s wedding," I'd told Althea when she arrived this morning.

"You saved more than our reputation—you enhanced it." Her response was immediate: "Just doing my job."

But it was far more than that, and we both know it. Instead of celebrating, I'm staring at my laptop screen in the Valenti Global conference room, pretending to focus on quarterly projections while Althea sits across the table taking notes. She's wearing a burgundy blouse that brings out the gold flecks in her brown eyes, and every time she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, I lose track of whatever point Alex is trying to make.

This is a problem.

Alex Appiah is the new events coordinator. He is young, ambitious, and probably clawed his way up from entry-level positions to manage events for Accra’s elite.

He's also been finding excuses to sit closer to Althea than necessary, leaning in when she reviews specifications, touching her arm when pointing out architectural details.

“Ms. Dawson," Appiah says, flashing practiced charm, "I have to say, working with Valenti Corporations has been exceptional. Particularly working with someone who actually understands the nuances of luxury event coordination."

Professional compliment. Nothing wrong with it. Except for the way his eyes linger on her legs and the slight shift in his posture that suggests this conversation isn't entirely about business.

“The bride specifically requested that the ceremony space feel intimate despite the guest count," Althea replies, completely focused on work.

“The alcove configuration you've suggested should work perfectly."

“Smart and beautiful," Appiah murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. "No wonder Valenti Corporations has such a stellar reputation."

That crosses the line. When vendors start treating my staff like potential conquests instead of business associates, it reflects poorly on my company's reputation.

“Perhaps we could discuss the timeline over dinner sometime," Appiah continues, his intentions crystal clear. "I know a place in Garden City, that⁠—" Althea’s polite smile doesn't waver, but I catch the slight tension in her shoulders.

She's handling this exactly as she should—professionally, diplomatically, giving him nothing to complain about while making her lack of interest subtly clear. "I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to keep business discussions during business hours," she says smoothly.

Appiah laughs like she's made a joke instead of a polite rejection. "All work and no play, Dawson. Surely someone as lovely as you doesn't spend every evening reviewing vendor contracts."

That's enough. "Appiah." My voice cuts through their conversation with the kind of authority that's been closing deals since I was twenty-five. "Do you have the final specifications? We need those numbers confirmed before we finalize the contract." He straightens immediately, his flirtatious demeanor replaced by professional deference.

“Of course, Mr.Valenti. Everything is outlined in the proposal Ms.Dawson requested."

“Good. Ms.Dawson, we need to review those specifications immediately. There are budget implications that require my direct oversight." The tone of my voice and the way I position myself next to her send the message clearly enough.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Appiah," Althea says smoothly, gathering her materials with practiced efficiency. "We'll be in touch about final confirmations." Parker nods, but I catch him glancing at Althea one more time.

Note to self: future events with the Plaza will go through different coordinators. "My car is waiting," I tell Althea as we leave the Plaza's marble lobby. "We'll review the specifications at the office." The ride back to Valenti Corporations is silent, professional.

Althea reviews her notes while I check emails, both of us maintaining the careful boundaries that have defined every interaction. But I can feel the tension radiating from her—confusion, maybe, or irritation at being pulled away from the walkthrough. Good. She should understand that representing my company comes with expectations.

The elevator ride to the forty-second floor is equally silent. It's only when my office doors close behind us that I address what happened at the Plaza. "Your handling of the venue specifications was thorough," I say, settling behind my desk. "But we need to discuss your interaction with Alex Appiah." She raises an eyebrow. "What about my interaction with Alex Appiah?"

“He was unprofessional."

"He was friendly."

“He asked you to dinner."

“Which I declined. Appropriately." Her voice remains level, but I can see the spark of temper in her brown eyes.

“Was there something about my handling of the situation you found inadequate, Mr.Valenti?"

The formal address is deliberate—a reminder of the professional distance we've been maintaining. "Your handling was adequate. But you need to be more aware of how your responses can be interpreted."

“Interpreted how?"

“As encouragement." Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "I was polite, professional, and focused entirely on business. If Parker chose to interpret standard business courtesy as encouragement, that's his failure to understand appropriate professional boundaries."

She's right, of course. Her behavior was exemplary. But that doesn't change the fact that watching him flirt with her made me want to remind him exactly who signs the contracts that keep his hotel profitable.

“You represent Valenti Global Events," I say, moving to the windows that overlook Accra Central. "Every interaction you have reflects on this company's reputation. Vendors need to see you as a business professional, not as someone they can pursue personally."

“And you think I presented myself as anything other than a business professional?"

“I think Parker saw an opportunity that he shouldn't have seen."

“Because I was polite to him? Because I smiled while discussing business requirements?" Her voice is rising now. "Tell me, Eros, exactly how would you like me to interact with male vendors? Stone-faced silence? Deliberate rudeness?"

The way she says my name carries a challenge—not quite insubordinate, but close enough to make my jaw clench. "I'd like you to maintain appropriate professional distance."

“I was maintaining appropriate professional distance."

“Were you?" I turn from the window to face her directly. She's standing in front of my desk, chin lifted, meeting my gaze with the kind of steady defiance that should irritate me more than it does. "

“Yes," she says firmly. "I was doing my job. Competently, professionally, and with complete focus on Valenti Global's business interests. If you have a problem with that⁠—"

“I have a problem with vendors thinking they can treat my staff like potential dates instead of business associates."

“Your staff?" The way she repeats the phrase makes it sound like an accusation. Like I've said something revealing instead of stating an obvious fact.

“You work for me," I clarify. "You represent my company. That comes with certain expectations."

“Such as?"

“Such as maintaining the kind of professional standards that reflect well on Valenti Global's reputation." She studies my face for a long moment, and I have the uncomfortable feeling that she's seeing something I didn't intend to reveal.

“Is that what this is about? The company's reputation?"

“What else would it be about?"

“I don't know. You tell me." The challenge in her voice is unmistakable now. She's pushing, testing boundaries, trying to get me to admit something I have no intention of admitting.

Because the truth is, watching that man flirt with Althea had nothing to do with company reputation and everything to do with the possessive fury that's been eating at me. The truth is, I wanted to make it clear that she's off-limits, not because she works for me, but because⁠— Because nothing.

Because I'm her boss, and she's my assistant, and maintaining professional boundaries is the only thing standing between order and chaos.

"Appiah overstepped," I say instead. "I made sure he understood that won't be tolerated in future business dealings."

“By pulling me away from a productive business meeting?"

“By establishing clear boundaries."

“Whose boundaries, Eros? His or yours?" The question hits closer to home than it should. Before I can formulate a response that doesn't reveal more than I intend, my phone buzzes against the desk. From HR. Three missed calls.

"I need to take this," I say, grateful for the interruption.

“Mr. Valenti?" Amber's voice carries the kind of crisp urgency that makes my stomach clench. "I need to see you in my office immediately.”