Married to my Enemy

Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – The Things He Doesn’t Say

The morning after the dinner with Victor Hale, I woke up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the faint aroma of coffee drifting through the villa.

For one disorienting moment, I forgot where I was.

Then I rolled over and saw the view—miles of turquoise water framed by glass walls—and remembered: married. To Liam Kane. In Hawaii. On a trip that was allegedly a honeymoon but felt more like a live-action game of Survivor: Billionaire Edition.

---

Liam was already dressed when I padded into the kitchen, looking aggravatingly fresh in an open-collar white shirt and navy trousers.

“There’s coffee,” he said without looking up from his tablet.

“Good morning to you too, darling,” I deadpanned.

He glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” I said, pouring myself a cup. “You know—woke up every two hours screaming.”

He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched, which I was starting to recognize as Liam Kane’s version of a belly laugh.

---

The day was supposed to be “free time” before that night’s gala. Free time, in Liam’s world, apparently meant answering encrypted phone calls and meeting with men in suits who looked like they’d failed mobster auditions.

I took myself to the beach instead. The sun was hot, the water perfect, and for a brief, glorious hour I pretended I was just a normal newlywed on vacation.

That fantasy ended when I spotted Victor Hale at the far end of the beach, lounging under a cabana with two men I didn’t recognize. He was laughing, but his eyes found me instantly. He lifted his glass in a silent toast.

I turned and walked away, the hair on the back of my neck prickling.

---

By the time I got back to the villa, Liam was gone. A note on the counter read:

Meeting. Be ready by seven. Black dress.

Romantic, I know.

I spent the afternoon half-heartedly scrolling through my phone, trying to ignore the gnawing sense that I was missing something.

---

That night, the gala was a whirl of champagne, glittering gowns, and conversations I barely understood. Liam introduced me to people with names I’d read in finance magazines, all while keeping me anchored with the occasional brush of his hand at my back.

It should have been flattering. Instead, it felt like I was a very valuable pawn in a game I didn’t know the rules to.

Victor was there too, of course, shadowing us with that amused predator’s gaze. But tonight, he didn’t approach. Which was somehow worse.

---

We got back to the villa just before midnight. Liam disappeared into his office—a sleek, glass-walled room at the far end of the second floor. I assumed he was working, until I went to the kitchen for water and heard it.

His voice. Low. Urgent. The kind of tone that made you instinctively want to press your ear to the door.

I crept up the stairs, the soft hum of the ocean outside masking my steps.

“…No. She doesn’t know. And she can’t find out. Not yet.”

A pause. Whoever was on the other end said something I couldn’t hear.

“I told you, I’ll handle it. But if she learns the truth before we’re ready, it’s over—for both of us.”

My pulse spiked. My first instinct was to march in there and demand answers. My second was to keep listening.

“Victor’s already sniffing around,” Liam continued. “And if he connects her to what happened five years ago—”

The sound of a door creaking behind me made me jump. My elbow bumped the wall, and in the next second the office door swung open.

Liam stood there, phone in hand, expression unreadable.

“How much of that did you hear?”