Chapter 67 Confession No. 49 Sleeping with the Enemy’s Daughter
Chapter 67 Confession No. 49 Sleeping with the Enemy’s Daughter
They said she was soft.
Spoiled. Obedient. Daddy’s little porcelain doll.
But when I stormed her father’s villa with blood on my gloves and a grudge spanning three years, softness was the last thing I found.
I expected fear.
I got fire.
The sky outside was soaked in violet dusk, the pool reflecting orange lanterns swinging in the breeze. She emerged from the water like a secret whispered into night wet, glistening, a lace one piece clinging to her like a sin undone. Her dark hair poured over one shoulder like wet silk, her lips glossier than the wine glass she reached for.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t run.
She raised her glass to me like she’d been expecting the devil and was ready to toast.
“You’re him,” she said, slow and bored. “My father said you’d come for me one day. Just not so soon.”
I should’ve knocked her unconscious. I should’ve cuffed her and dragged her out.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I watched as she took a bite of a ruby-red strawberry slow, sensuous, lips parting, tongue darting out. Juice dripped down her chin, and she licked it clean like it was a goddamn invitation.
Every second stretched.
Every move was theater.
She was seducing me without even trying.
When I finally stepped forward, pressing the cold barrel of my pistol to her collarbone, she arched one brow and smiled.
“That’s new,” she murmured. “Usually, I only get choked with pearls.”
Jesus.
She wasn’t afraid of me.
She was entertained.
“Turn around,” I growled.
“And if I don’t?”
“I tie you up.”
“Oh,” she purred. “Kinky. What else?”
I tied her hands with her own velvet sash, looped tight and snug behind her back. Her breathing changed but not from fear. Her pulse beat beneath her skin like a dare.
As I walked her through her father’s lush villa, she kept speaking like we were on a damn date. Pointing out sculptures. Commenting on the expensive wines I was too poor to pronounce as a child.
“I never thought a kid from the slums would break in through the front gates,” she said.
“You know who I am?”
“Of course.” She glanced over her shoulder. “The boy my father ruined.”
The hallway narrowed. My hand gripped her waist.
“You talk too much.”
“And you think too loud.”
“Think what?”
She turned, smirking.
“That you want to fuck me.”
I shoved her into her bedroom before I could think. Before I could stop.
“Take another step, and I’ll gag you,” I snarled.
Her chin tilted up, defiant and seductive.
“Then use the red silk one. It matches the rope.”
I slammed the door behind us.
And in that moment, everything changed.
This wasn’t revenge anymore.
This wasn’t about the blood feud.
This was about her.
The enemy’s daughter with a crimson mouth and a filthy smile.
And now she was mine.
She didn’t beg.
Didn’t plead.
Didn’t even ask where I was taking her.
Instead, she lounged in the back of my blacked out car like it was a limo, wrists bound in soft red silk, legs crossed in the moonlight, and a smirk carved permanently into her lips.
“Is this when you ask for ransom?” she asked, voice lazy and amused.
“I don’t want money.”
She tilted her head. “Then what do you want?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
She licked her lower lip slowly, purposefully, watching me in the rearview mirror.
“I hope it’s not my silence,” she whispered. “I’m terrible at staying quiet especially when I’m enjoying myself.”
God.
She was the kind of dangerous that didn’t need a weapon.
The warehouse was nothing like the villa. Raw. Stark. Cold concrete floors. Metal beams overhead. The scent of rust and old gunpowder lingered in the air.
But she made it look like a damn palace.
Sitting pretty in a leather armchair I hadn’t planned to offer, legs still crossed, she leaned back and asked:
“So what now, kidnapper?”
“You really think this is a game?” I muttered, approaching her slowly.
Her lashes fluttered. “I hope it is.”
I paced behind her, letting silence crawl up her skin.
She shivered when I ran my knuckles from her neck to her shoulder.
“You think this is about sex?” I asked.
She chuckled softly. “Isn’t it always?”
“No. This is about your father. This is about revenge.”
She turned her head, just enough to meet my eyes.
“Then you’re already failing,” she said. “Because I’m not scared of you, amor. I’m intrigued.”
Later, when the night deepened and she sat on a thin mattress in the backroom with only shadows and my presence, the first crack in her confidence showed.
Not in fear
But in curiosity.
“I’m not what you expected, am I?” she said.
I didn’t answer.
“I’m not daddy’s puppet,” she added. “He raised me like a diamond cold, polished, locked away in a box.”
Her fingers trailed over the red silk tying her wrists, slow and sensual.
“I prefer rope,” she whispered. “It reminds me I can still feel.”
I clenched my fists.
She leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. “Tell me, captor do you tie knots as well as you tie fates?”
My voice was sandpaper. “You think teasing me will save you?”
“No. I think you want to be teased.”
She stood.
Took one bold step closer.
Then another.
Until she was in front of me, so close I could smell the rose on her skin and the smoke of temptation.
She tilted her chin, baring her neck slightly.
“I want you to ruin me,” she whispered.
And I hadn’t even begun.
She stood in front of me, bound wrists hanging loose at her front like a gift she dared me to unwrap.
Her breathing wasn’t calm anymore.
Neither was mine.
“I should throw you in a cell,” I growled, trying to remind myself of who I was.
She smiled, the kind of smile that meant destruction wasn’t just welcome it was her currency.
“I’m already in one,” she whispered, stepping so close her body brushed against mine.
“Then I should remind you what captivity feels like.”
“Do it,” she said. “But do it right.”
I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the shadows, deeper into the backroom.
No cameras. No guards. Just her and me and every rule we were about to destroy.
Her breath hitched, just slightly. I caught it.
“You’re trembling,” I said.
She looked up, defiant. “Maybe I’m excited.”
I pinned her wrists above her head, pushed her lightly against the wall, not hard enough to hurt just enough to say I could.
Her gasp was soft, her body arching into me on instinct.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered.
“Exactly what you asked for.”
My mouth hovered above hers.
Not touching.
Not yet.
Letting the heat build like a match waiting for the strike.
I skimmed my fingers down her arm, across her collarbone, tracing the curves she kept hidden beneath that white silk blouse.
She tilted her head. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“No.”
That surprised her. She blinked.
“Why not?” she whispered.
“Because the first kiss from me won’t be gentle,” I murmured at her throat. “And I’m not ready to ruin you yet.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Liar.”
I smirked, brushing my lips just beneath her ear, not touching her mouth still not touching her mouth.
“You’re the one tied up,” I said, “but I’m the one who’s trapped.”
She pushed back gently but with a deliberate roll of her hips that made my blood boil.
“You sure you’re in control?” she asked.
“No.”
And I hated that it was true.
My mouth finally touched her throat slow, calculated, the kind of kiss that scorched skin without rushing it.
She moaned.
Low.
Sharp.
Addictive.
I bit her lightly. Not enough to leave a mark just a memory.
“You’re playing with fire,” I growled.
She tilted her head to offer me more of her neck. “Then burn me.”
And I did one sinful kiss at a time.
Her lips met mine like sin and salvation wrapped into one.
No hesitation now. No more games.
Only fire hungry, dangerous fire.
I grabbed her jaw, tilted her face, and devoured her mouth.
She moaned into the kiss, wrists still bound, back arched as I pressed her to the wall.
The taste of her sweet, daring, forbidden drove me insane.
I gripped her thigh and lifted it around my waist, claiming the space between us.
"You're dangerous," I muttered against her mouth.
"So are you," she breathed.
The kiss turned darker.
Our bodies aligned like puzzle pieces that shouldn't fit but did. Too well.
Her blouse shifted, one button coming undone from my grip.
I dragged my lips down her throat, across her collarbone, tasting everything she dared to offer.
“God” she whispered, tilting her head back. “I’ve never wanted someone like this.”
I froze for half a second.
Neither had I.
My hand moved to her waist, up beneath the silk fabric
When
Knock.
Loud. Sharp. Real.
“Sir?” It was Leo, my head of security.
I didn’t move. She held her breath, heart pounding wildly beneath my palm.
“Sir, your father just landed. He’s coming in. Said he wants to see you immediately.”
Fck.
She looked up at me, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from our kiss, hair tousled like a dream.
“Your father,” she whispered, a slow smile spreading. “How poetic.”
I cursed again, grabbing her arms and pulling them down. I untied her wrists, fast.
“We’re not done,” I said, voice low and shaking with need.
She grinned, straightening her clothes with maddening calm. “We’ve only just begun.”
But when I opened that office door, it wasn’t my father I saw waiting it was hers.