Falling For My Enemy Read online

  Maybe that was a good thing. People are too plugged in these days, myself being no exception.

  And sighing once deeply, my mind drifted off into the gray haze, lying comfortably on the plush mattress. It was going to be a long day tomorrow … with Mr. Evans as my hero, tormentor, and fantasy man all rolled into one.

  5

  Morgan

  Breakfast had been dreary. I’d loaded up on pancakes with golden syrup, hoping for the best. But blech. The pancakes had been pure cardboard, the syrup a dose of sugary glue.

  So here I was, hungry again, standing on the subway platform.

  Which way to Midtown? Which way to Elite Air headquarters?

  People in fancy suits brushed past me, minding their own business. My eyes darted nervously over the pencil skirts and pantsuits worn by other women.

  Unfortunately, I looked like a drab mouse compared to the business professionals. I had on my one clean skirt with a button down shirt tucked-in. Penny loafers finished the outfit. Basically, I looked like a naïve student at her first interview. And an impoverished student at that with the faded floral print and scuffed shoes. But it was too late because it was time to meet the boss.

  I crammed myself into a subway car, holding myself still in the crowded space. It was awkward because there were strangers standing just inches away but avoiding eye contact.

  How do people do this every day? It’s uncomfortable being packed in like a tin of sardines, but I was grateful for the subway ride because usually I walk because metro cards are so expensive. Then again, with my six figure salary, one little metro card wouldn’t break the bank. I swallowed hard. Who would have guessed that I would be making six figures?

  But how much longer would I have this job? If I got fired, I was toast because Burger Barista had responded to my message about quitting on the spot. The supervisor was pissed, leaving a nasty voicemail on my phone. After all, I was taking off during their busiest season with no notice.

  I didn’t blame them. But if I got fired today, then that’d be both Burger Barista and Elite Air down the drain in one fell swoop. What then?

  The train swayed as it roared down the track. The movement was oddly soothing, allowing my thoughts to slow down. Still no new messages from Evelyn.

  Be positive, the voice inside whispered. You have no idea what Mr. Evans wants. Maybe you have it backwards. Maybe the airline is scared that you’ll quit. They might even be worried that you’ll sue for harassment. Who knows?

  But I shook my head. That couldn’t be it, given yesterday’s disastrous flight. So I put it out of my mind and soon, the subway stopped, dropping me off in front of a looming corporate office tower. It was intimidating for sure. Once again, I stuck out like a sore thumb, the impoverished mouse among sleek corporate drones milling around an imposing office building. My anxiety came back full force as I pushed through the revolving door, feeling like an imposter.

  And the receptionists were catty, eyeing my outfit before schooling their faces into calm.

  “Hello, how can we help you today?”

  I tried to keep my gaze level, though I was tempted to look at my feet and fidget.

  “I-I’m here to see Mr. Evans. Stone Evans of Elite Air,” was my mumble. “He said I was to meet today? I know I’m early but—”

  The receptionist tapped away at a computer, then looked down at me again. “Morgan?”

  “Yes, Morgan Nelson, that’s me,” was my rushed voice. “If you could let him know I’m here.”

  The woman was all business.

  “I’ll need your driver’s license, please.”

  What? Why did they need an ID just to get into the building? But I guess fancy places are like that.

  Awkwardly, I dug around in my purse and finally located the small card. Uck, my picture was terrible but it’d have to do. I handed it over to the receptionist, who typed more while staring into her screen. And finally, the printer whirred, ejecting a small piece of paper.

  “This is a guest pass,” she said officiously. Pointing to a row of turnstiles, she directed me. “Swipe it on one of those metal posts and walk through the turnstile. Your meeting is on the eightieth floor. Mr. Evans is expecting you.”

  The eightieth floor?

  How far up did this skyscraper go?

  But nodding meekly, I accepted the slip of paper.

  “Thank you.”

  And soon, I was whisked up into the sky. It was unbelievable. The steel doors closed and I braced myself against the wall, prepared to for some head-spinning nausea.

  But this building was so fancy that it had high-speed elevators that moved like a cloud. In fact, I didn’t even sense that we were going upwards. Instead, the numbers changed before my eyes, and boom! We were there.

  I took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall.

  Soft lighting illuminated the clean black stone floors and the pale grey walls. The end of the hall led to a solid glass wall with a door in its center, and a sensor pad for badges. I dug around for the little piece of paper in my purse.

  The pad beeped, allowing me to open the door. It was so quiet that my footsteps sounded like an elephant tromping around. I tried to be more quiet peering around. There were rows of offices, all with the lights off and the doors closed.

  “Hello?” came my inquisitive word.

  This was weird. Why wasn’t anyone here? My heart raced as I continued walking down the hall. This was the right floor, for sure. Plus, my badge had worked. So why wasn’t anyone around?

  It was definitely creepy, and my throat went dry. Suddenly, a low voice jolted my nerves.

  “I’m sorry there’s no one here to properly greet you.”

  I jumped because Stone had appeared out of nowhere. He was massive, dark and imposing, with piercing blue eyes and raven hair that seemed to absorb the light. I went hot inside and my cheeks flushed.

  “I’m sorry there was no one to greet you,” Mr. Evans repeated smoothly. “Helena’s out today, and Elite only has a skeleton staff in New York City. So it’s just me and you.”

  Somehow, the words sounded intimate, although I knew they weren’t. Me and you. That was nice.

  Please, the voice in my head went. Get real Morgan. Mr. Evans isn’t into you. In fact, there’s no me and you. That’s all your imagination, the stuff of that fantasy bath last night.

  My cheeks went red, and like he could read my mind, those blue eyes gleamed.

  “Come in,” he asked. “Make yourself comfortable in this conference room. Can I get you some water?”

  I stammered, so embarrassed, but I had to get control of myself. Taking a deep breath, I smiled with my best professional demeanor.

  “Thank you. Water would be great.”

  The billionaire nodded before disappearing around a corner.

  And it was then that I looked around the conference room. Because this wasn’t your average set-up. There was a giant oak table with at least fifty plush chairs on two sides. It looked like the movies where all the bigwigs sat around and talked about important million-dollar deals. But today, no one was here. It was just me and him.

  Was that good or bad? Gulping, I took a seat. Ooh, this chair was so comfortable and I sank back into its plush softness. Mr. Evans returned, bearing a glass of water. It looked a little ridiculous. His hand was tan and firm, making the small glass look positively miniscule.

  Besides, I was the flight attendant and he was the CEO.

  So why was he serving me?

  But the alpha was completely at ease, lowering that massive frame into a chair opposite me, leaning back casually.

  The view of the city was breathtaking, but he was equally incredible to see. Dark and imposing, backlit a bit by sun rising behind him.

  I fidgeted in my seat.

  The memories of the flight welled up again. Oh god. It’d been so embarrassing. I was probably getting fired. And before he could say anything, my mouth began to move.

  “I’m so sorry about the flight yes
terday,” came my humiliated blurt. “I should have handled it better. I had been informed that all were very important passengers, especially—”

  Mr. Evans held up his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys are jackasses. There’s nothing you could have done differently.”

  My cheeks flamed, eyes grateful. Thank god Mr. Evans saw it my way. But why were those guys on the plane with him if he disliked them so much? Unfortunately, those questions were above my pay grade. So I squeezed my hands in my lap, trying not to fidget as my thighs trembled.

  Of course, Mr. Evans was completely unperturbed. He leaned backwards once more, blue eyes gleaming.

  “So, you’re the new hire Helena sent. Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  What? Why would he want to know about me? After all, I was a nobody, just someone from the projects whose last job was at Burger Barista. Even that was embarrassing to admit. But I had to make the best of it, so taking a deep breath, I met that deep blue gaze square on.

  “I’m a graduate of a six-week flight training school,” was my slow reply. “I just finished last month, and then I saw an ad in the paper for Elite Air, and got hired right away. Thank you for taking a chance on me,” was my quick refrain. “I really appreciate it.”

  The billionaire nodded.

  “No prob,” he drawled. “But what else? Where do you live?”

  That blue gaze locked on mine and a blush rose to my cheeks. My nipples hardened, embarrassing me all over again. Oh god, could he see?

  Think of something else, anything else, spoke the voice in my mind. Come on Morgan. Get with it. This is a job, and one that you can’t afford to lose.

  “Um, I’m from around here,” was my low mutter. Could I somehow dress up my humble past? But there was no sense in masking reality. After all, it’s not like I’d committed a crime. Lifting my chin, I answered in a clear voice.

  “I’m from the LeBar Projects out in Queens,” the words came. “If you take the Midtown Tunnel, they’re right there once you exit on the other side. You can’t miss them because they’re like a giant concrete jungle. I grew up there with my mom. Sandra lives there still, and I’ll always think of the projects as my home.”

  To my surprise, respect entered those blue eyes.

  “Really?” he asked, a black eyebrow raised. “Never would have guessed, a nice girl like you.”

  My cheeks flushed.

  “Yes,” I said firmly. “It’s not the greatest place to grow up because there’s a lot of crime and whatnot. But I’m proud of my beginnings, and not afraid of my humble roots.”

  The billionaire nodded slowly.

  “You’ve come a long ways then,” he said smoothly. “So tell me, how much are they paying you at Elite?”

  I gasped. Didn’t he know? The big man was the boss after all, but who knows? Human resources seemed below his level.

  “Your manager Helena offered me a salary of one hundred and fifty thousand a year,” I said in a firm voice. “After yesterday, I understand if you want to dock my pay. It was a tough situation, and I should have handled myself better. My apologies again.”

  The words were formal and stilted, but I didn’t want to be fired. How much would he penalize me? Ten thousand? Even more?

  Instead, the billionaire did something unexpected—he threw his back and laughed, showing off even white teeth. I flinched at the sound, utterly confused. Why was he amused? Was the man making fun of me? Heat rose to my cheeks, hot and agonizing.

  But the alpha merely shook his head again and looked at me wryly.

  “I’m not going to fire you, pretty baby,” came that low growl. “I’m going to do something even better. I’m going to offer you some incentive pay.”

  My mind reeled. I wasn’t going to be fired? Not even punished or written up? Hallelujah!

  But the turn of events left me cautious.

  “What do you mean, ‘incentive pay?’” was my slow query. “Is that like a Christmas bonus?”

  After all, at Burger Barista, we’d had a “holiday gift” each December. It was a coupon for a free pickle with your burger. Worth less than zero to someone like me, who hates pickles.

  Plus, my current salary was easily more money than I knew what to do with. I could save, for the first time in my life. I could put something away towards retirement. And I could help my mom pay her medical bills, evading bankruptcy.

  So what was this bonus he was offering?

  Because the answer was already on the tip of my tongue - yes. I’m poor and need the money. My life is already ten times better than it used to be, and with you in it, worlds have already opened. Opportunities that never existed before have landed in my lap like Christmas gifts.

  Mr. Evans chuckled like he could read my mind.

  “Incentive pay means bonus money for doing exceptional work,” he drawled. “Are you an exceptional girl?”

  Oh no, oh no. Because was this a trap? Me, exceptional? Was this guy crazy? I just screwed up my first flight, but I tried to play it off.

  “Oh no, it’s okay.” I shook my head, trying to seem confident. “I want to do good work anyways. You don’t need to pay me extra for doing my job.”

  Mr. Evans nodded and seemed pleased with my answer. But one black brow crooked again.

  “But you deserve to be compensated for work that goes above and beyond the call of the average stewardess. Capiche?”

  Actually, I didn’t understand. Not at all. So straightening in my seat, the words came earnestly.

  “Mr. Evans, you don’t have to pay me extra because I aim to please. It’s no trouble at all.”

  He smiled again, but this time his eyes had a devilish glint. Oh god. This man had me wound around his finger, and my insides loosened, face growing warm. What was he planning?

  And sure enough, the lion struck then.

  “I want to make things better for you,” he drawled. “I want you to be more than just a stewardess on these flights.”

  A slight pause.

  “More than a stewardess?” my voice squeaked.

  What in the world? What did that mean? Oh wait. Suddenly it was obvious.

  “Sure, I don’t mind scrubbing the toilets,” I said hastily. “I can absolutely do the laundry too, it’s no trouble. No extra pay needed.”

  All Mr. Evans did was throw back his head and laugh mightily again.

  “Naw pretty girl, that’s not what I mean at all.” He leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze caress my curves. “Tell me, where did you work before Elite Air?”

  Oh god. Oh god. The time had come.

  “Oh, um, it was just a minimum wage job.” I dropped my gaze to the table, face burning. But I couldn’t duck anymore. “I was a barista and a burger flipper at a little local joint called Burger Barista. It sounds crazy right? Who drinks coffee and eats burgers at the same time? But actually, it was a genius idea because they had so many customers.”

  The big man’s eyebrows were practically on the ceiling now.

  “So you flipped patties?” he drawled.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Yes sir, and pulled espresso shots for eight hours a day. It wasn’t too bad. My feet hurt afterwards, but we had free food while on shift, so it was worth it.”

  There. It was all out there now. My humble beginnings at LeBar City. My minimum wage job filled with greasy oil and the french fry smell that never went away. But everyone has to start somewhere, and for me, Burger Barista was step one on the way to a better life.

  Mr. Evans, on the other hand, is hard to read. His eyebrow quirked, making me uneasy, before the alpha leaned forwards again. “You sound like a hard worker and a good employee. Did you have extra responsibilities at Burger Barista?”

  I nodded, chin up.

  “Yes! If they needed someone to mop floors, or clean the bathroom, I was on it. I did it for free because we’re a team, you know? I wanted to give my all and show I was worth keeping.”

  Mr. Evan’s eyebrows raised, surprised at my
answer. I fidgeted, unsure if he was impressed or regretting his decision. Oh god, oh god. The hammer was going to fall at any moment, I could feel it. I’d be on the street with a quick “thank you, goodbye.” But instead, that movie star smile flashed again.

  “Well, I’d like for you to do a little extra for Elite Air. Like I mentioned, you’ll be paid for your trouble.”

  My breath stilled. What did he mean? But then that handsome face grinned, making my heart race.

  “Little girl, I want to play with you on these flights in order to help me de-stress. To get me relaxed. What do you think about that?”

  My ears burned, cheeks on fire. What in the world? As usual, the words came tumbling out before I could stop them.

  “Of course!” was my blurt. “I can make you a really soothing tea, and I’ve been learning about meditation. There’s this Zen routine where you blank your mind and try and think of nothing at all. It sounds easy, but is super hard to do. Plus, do you like yoga? Or massages? I can take classes on Swedish massage,” was my quick refrain. “Or Japanese-style if you prefer.”

  Oh god, my whole face was red now. Had to be.

  But the billionaire grinned wolfishly then.

  “Sure that sounds good,” he drawled. “Especially if you like nuru massage. Have you heard of that before?”

  I shook my head, cheeks flaming.

  “No sir, but I can learn. I’ll look it up and sign up for classes immediately.”

  The gorgeous man threw his head back and laughed aloud then.

  “Sure sweet thing, take classes. But I don’t want you practicing on anybody but me.”

  My eyebrows went up.

  “I’m sorry?” was my stammer. “What do you mean?”

  He grinned again.

  “You’ll see honey. Look up nuru massage, and you’ll get my drift. But I want more than just massages. I want your assets,” he drawled meaningfully, staring at my girls. Shamefully, they tightened and rose, the nipples pointing straight at the big man.

  “I’m sorry?” was my soft gasp. “What do you mean? I... ?”