Falling in Lust with the Enemy

Scarlett's Pov I felt the gazes of the guests turn towards me as I walked into the party, and I kept a smile on my face while moving through the crowd and nodding at familiar faces. Tonight was a celebration, or at least that was what my father wanted everyone to believe. Deep down, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that my father, the same man who had spent years dismissing my potential, had actually thrown a party in my honor. He was a man who believed that women had their place—quiet, supportive, and in the background, but tonight, I wasn’t the one in the background. I was the star of the show, thanks to the one thing he valued above all else: power. Power, in this case, came in the form of a deal. A multi-billion-dollar partnership with a Korean conglomerate that spanned across three continents. It was the sort of deal that could make or break empires, and one that my father had been chasing for years, with each of my four older brothers trying to achieve it but failing woefully. Each failure only seemed to cement my father's belief that it was impossible, especially after Noah, the golden child and my eldest brother, had walked away empty-handed. I had been handed the project out of sheer desperation, and my father had seen it as a Hail Mary pass—something that couldn’t possibly work. But, three months later, I managed to close the deal, securing the partnership and, as a result, forcing my father to recognize me in a way he never had before. Tonight’s party was proof of his acknowledgment, but I knew better than to be flattered. I could see him now, surrounded by his usual circle of sycophants, and laughing proudly. His eyes met mine across the room, and for a moment, I saw something unfamiliar in them. Pride, maybe, but it didn't last long. It was quickly replaced by the calculated gaze of a man who was used to controlling everything around him. He then flashed me a broad smile, signaling me to join him. “Scarlett, darling!” he greeted me as I approached, and before I could react, he pulled me into a hug, a gesture so out of character that I nearly flinched. His arms wrapped around me felt foreign as well as uncomfortable, and I noticed the surprised looks on the faces of his friends as well. My father was not a man who displayed affection publicly, especially not toward the women in his life, which consisted of my mother and me. When he released me, he kept a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face the man standing beside him. “I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine,” he said. “This is Gregory Adams, CEO of ReNew Industries.” “Scarlett,” Gregory said, extending a hand to me. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” “I’m sure you have,” I replied smoothly, matching his grip and meeting his gaze head-on. It was a habit I had developed over the years—never looking away and never showing weakness. My father had indirectly taught me that by constantly expecting me to fail. “You’ll need to make a speech soon, Scarlett,” my father said. “But first, find your husband. He should be by your side during your speech," he added, and I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he’d want Richard there. He believed a woman needed a man by her side to validate her worth, and it didn’t matter that Richard had contributed nothing to my success or that he was more of an accessory than a partner in any real sense. “Of course, Father,” I said, turning away before he could read too much into my expression. Richard Ortega was the name of the i***t that my father had forced me to marry. He was older than me by nearly a decade, a man who had all the charm and charisma of a wet blanket. Lucky for him, he came from the right family with the right connections, and that was all that had mattered to my father. Richard had arrived at the party before me, as he often did, since I didn't like showing up at the same time with him. Pretending to care for him in public was way harder than closing a multimillion-dollar deal. I hadn’t made it far before I nearly collided with someone, and my gaze snapped up, ready to offer an apology, but the words died on my lips when I saw who it was. Sebastian Sinclair. Tall, well over six feet, with brown hair that always seemed artfully tousled and grey eyes that held an infuriating mix of intelligence and arrogance. His features were handsome, undeniably so, with a strong jaw and a sharp, refined look that made him look unreal. But it was his smirk that really set my blood boiling—the one that said he knew exactly how much he got under my skin. “Well, well, Scarlett,” he drawled in a voice that had a way of making even the simplest words sound like a provocation. “Fancy running into you here.” I crossed my arms, glaring up at him. “What the hell are you doing at my party, Sinclair?” His smirk deepened, as if he found my irritation endlessly amusing. “Your father invited me. Couldn’t exactly say no to my godfather, could I?” I should have known. My father and Sebastian’s father, Benjamin Sinclair, went way back—business partners once, now rivals. But they’d maintained a complicated friendship over the years, mostly filled with power plays and mutual respect, if you could call it that. Sebastian was also my rival. He was everything I couldn’t stand in a person: arrogant, smug, and always so sure of himself. And the worst part? He was often right. “Well then,” I replied, trying to sound polite, “Enjoy the party, Sebastian, and please, do us both a favor and stay far, far away from me. Thanks.” I turned on my heel, ready to brush past him, but his voice stopped me in my tracks. “Are you by any chance looking for your husband?” he asked suddenly. I immediately turned around, narrowing my eyes at him. “Why do you ask?” Sebastian’s smirk widened, the kind that made me want to slap it right off his face. “No reason, really. But if I were you, Scarlett, I’d avoid going to the men’s bathroom.” The way he said it, so casually, so confidently, made my stomach drop, and without another word, I turned and walked away. I arrived at the men's bathroom, and the sign in front of the door read “No Entry.” For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was all just some prank of Sebastian’s. Maybe he was just messing with me. But then I heard it—a faint sound from behind the door, and before I could second-guess myself, I pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. The scene I walked into made my blood run cold. There, in front of the bathroom mirror was Richard. His hands were gripping the counter, and his body was pressed against the woman bent over in front of him. It was a woman with dark hair that I recognized all too well. Ana. My assistant. My fists clenched at my sides, the nails digging into my palms, but I forced myself to stay calm and to keep a level head. When I finally spoke, my voice was calm. “Richard.” He froze at the sound of my voice, his head snapping up to meet my gaze in the mirror. Ana turned as well, her eyes widening in shock, her face draining of color. “Get dressed,” I instructed. “You’ve got a few minutes to collect yourself before you meet me back at the party. We have a speech to make.” They both stared at me as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were hearing. I watched as the realization dawned on Richard that I wasn’t going to make a scene and explode in a fit of rage like he might have expected. With that, I turned and walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I rejoined the party, and as I approached, my father raised a hand to signal for attention, and the noise in the room gradually died down with the guests turning their focus toward us. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out. “My beautiful daughter has a few words she’d like to say.” I stepped up on the stage, and Richard appeared behind me, immediately resting his hands on my back. Without looking at him, I shifted my body to brush his hands away. “Thank you, Father,” I began. “And thank you, everyone, for being here tonight. It’s truly an honor to have you all here to celebrate with me.” I paused, looking back at the crowd, who were watching me intently, some with genuine smiles and others with an envy that often came with success. “Everyone thought,” I continued, “that bagging this would be impossible, including those with more experience than me, but I believed in myself, and tonight, standing here before you all, I can proudly say that I was right to.” There was a round of applause, a few nods of approval, as well as awkward glances exchanged between some of the guests. “But that’s not all I have to say tonight,” I added. “There’s something else I need to share with you.” The room fell into silence, and even the reporters at the back were eager to hear what else I had to say. “Richard and I are getting a divorce,” I announced. My words were followed by a shocked silence, and then, as if on cue, the crowd started to murmur. I could see the disbelief on their faces, including my father's, but I didn’t care. “What?” Richard blurted out as he turned to me with wide eyes. “Scarlett, what the hell are you talking about?” I ignored him and instead kept my focus on the crowd. One of the reporters pushed forward. "Why are you getting a divorce?” I knew what he was really asking. He wanted to know the details—the juicy scandal. He wanted to know if I had become another pitiful wife whose husband had betrayed her, but I wasn’t going to give him—or anyone else—the satisfaction of that narrative. I'd rather be the b***h who cheated than the wife who got cheated on. “I fell in love with someone else,” I said, the words coming out more easily than I had expected. The crowd erupted once again, and the whispering turned into full-blown conversations with the reporters shouting questions, desperate to know more. I could feel Richard’s eyes on me, burning with what I assumed was anger, but I didn’t look at him. I was too focused on keeping myself together. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Sebastian Sinclair. He stood near the back of the room, his tall and confident posture unmistakable even in the crowd, as he watched me with a small smile playing on his lips. Before I could even think, I found myself moving toward him, my body acting on instinct alone. Sebastian’s smile widened as I approached, and for a split second, I hesitated, wondering if I was making the biggest mistake of my life. But then, without another thought, I closed the distance between us and kissed him. The kiss was intense, raw, and desperate. I pulled him closer, my body pressed against his as if trying to absorb him, and he responded in kind, his arms wrapping around me, deepening the kiss until I could hardly breathe. When we finally pulled apart, the room was silent, and I felt the eyes of everyone on us. I turned back to the crowd, my hand still resting on Sebastian’s chest. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced. “Sebastian Sinclair and I are lovers.”