The Sexy Enemy: A Fake Relationship Romance (Italian Nights Series Book 3)

1. Natalia

My head hurts.

My mouth feels like the Sahara.

I roll over onto my side, wishing the room would stop spinning. That was one hell of a party last night. I don’t normally drink that much, but we were celebrating Gio and Paige’s joint bachelor and bachelorette party in Vegas, and you know what they say: what happens in Vegas …

A deep groan reverberates from beside me and my eyes fly open. My heart starts to beat uncontrollably in my chest as I stare at a tanned, muscular back.

Oh no. What have I done? No, who have I done? That is one nice back. Look at it ripple as he moves. Stop it, I hiss at myself internally. Even if she is right and that is a well-defined back, there is a stranger in my bed.

I don’t remember bringing him home. Don’t remember bringing anyone home. I should remember, shouldn’t I? How much did I have to drink last night?

He groans again as he starts to roll onto his back. Quickly, I close my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice I’m awake and that he might tiptoe out of my room and my life, and I never have to deal with the awkwardness of a one-night stand.

“Urgh, why does my head hurt so much?” the deep, gravelly voice grumbles beside me. Nice voice. It sends shivers across my skin. “How much did I drink?”

Squishing my eyes even tighter together, I continue to pray to the one–night–stand gods that this embarrassment will be over quickly and quietly.

“What in the fuck!” the deep voice bellows.

Dammit, busted.

Opening my eyes, I was not prepared for the slate-green eyes glaring at me angrily from across the bed, nor was I expecting the square jawline or the messy dark-brown hair attached to him.

“You,” he says.

Shit. My stomach sinks at the realization of who is in my bed.

“You,” I answer right back as I throw the covers off and launch myself from the bed and away from my family’s enemy.

Alessandro Conti.

He’s now heir of The Conti Company after the death of his older brother in a car accident last year. As much as I hate his family, I do feel for their loss. I don’t know what I would do if I lost one of my siblings, even Allegra now that we’ve repaired our relationship.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I yell at him.

He looks around the room, taking in the opulent surroundings as he steps out of the bed before he returns his angry gaze back to me. “Your room?” he questions me.

“Yes, mine. If you don’t get the hell out of here in five seconds, I’m going to call security and have you escorted out.”

A smirk falls across his chiseled face. Arrogant asshole. “Looks like I might be the one that will be calling security because you are in my room, princess.”

I still.

Why the hell would I be in this man’s room? Why were you in his bed is the more important question. I take in his mean eyes as they glare at me. My brows pull together as I try to sort through the thick hangover to find memories of last night. I would never, ever willingly go home with a Conti. Our families hate each other, always have, always will. The Conti family is unscrupulous, money-hungry, win-at–all-costs, evil people. I narrow my eyes on the asshole standing in front of me. He’s looking rough compared to his usual slick style. His dark-brown hair is messy as if someone’s spent the night running their fingers through it. You. It was you. My stomach revolts at the thought. There’s a bit of scuff starting to emerge across his square jaw. I continue to let my eyes trail down over his broad shoulders, down his pecs, until I’m greeted with a well-defined six-pack, surprising. Anytime I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of running into him at events around Roma, he’s always dressed in a designer suit. Who knew he was packing that body underneath it all? Although, it makes sense, the man is as vain as they come. He runs around town with a supermodel on his arm, never the same one twice, a serial womanizer. Ew, Ick. My eyes then subconsciously slide down from his abs to his hips, and then I still.

No. No. No.

A well-manscaped pelvic region comes into view, followed by the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen.

No. No. No.

It’s long, thick, veiny, complemented by two nice-sized balls hanging behind it, all encased between thick thighs. He twitches to life under my stare.

No. No. No.

As my cheeks start to burn, a throb between my thighs ignites.

No. No. No.

“Impressed, are we?” He chuckles as the silence stretches between us and my assessing gaze.

My nose crinkles at his irritating voice. “I’ve seen better.” I huff, folding my arms across my chest.

I still.

No. No. No.

Why do I feel skin on skin? I slowly look down and see two pert nipples staring back at me.

“I’m naked,” I scream, then grab the bedsheet and wrap it around myself.

He chuckles and has the audacity to wink. “I know.”

I wag my finger at him. “Why? What did you do to me?” I question as panic descends over my body.

He raises a brow at me. “You think I forced you to do something?” Those slate-green eyes darken, something akin to anger and disappointment evident as they glare at me.

“Yes.” He stiffens at my response. “And put some fucking clothes on,” I yell at him.

He reaches down, grabs a pair of boxers, and slides them on. “Happy now?”

“No, I’m still in your room,” I bite back.

“Willingly,” he adds.

I roll my eyes. “I would never willingly go anywhere with you,” I say, waving my hands in the air.

“Please, I don’t have to force women to come home with me,” he declares.

For a moment, I look at him and he’s right. There would be lots of women who have next to no taste in men who would be willing to fall into bed with this slime bag.

“And yet here I am?” I sneer.

We glare at each other.

“I don’t know what the hell happened last night because there is no way in hell I would be bringing a Fiorenzo into my bed,” he tells me.

“As if I would go to bed with a Conti,” I answer, pulling the sheet tighter around me.

“And yet here we are,” he says sarcastically, throwing my words back at me.

I poke my tongue out at him as words fail me in that moment.

“Mature, Natalia.”

“You should know, old man.” Alessandro is the same age as Luca, which is eight years older than me.

“Man is right. Compared to the little boys you normally fuck,” he spits. “There’s nothing little about them let me assure you,” I argue back.

“Nothing little about me either, princess.” He grins cockily.

Damn, that is true. The man is packing some serious man meat between those thighs. Guess that’s the reason I ended up in his bed—because of dick. I hold the sheet closer to me. I don’t know what the hell happened, but he doesn’t get to see any more of me.

“Screw you.”

“You already have.” He chuckles.

Bending over, I pick up a pillow and throw it at him. He easily catches it and throws it back onto the bed. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea how feisty I can get.”

“The scratches on my back give me a good idea.”

My hands ball into fists as the urge to throw everything that isn’t tied down at this man takes over. “Where are my clothes?” I ask, looking around the room, trying to find my outfit.

He shrugs his shoulders.

I need to find them quickly or he’ll hold them for ransom, and I’ll have to do the walk of shame in this sheet through Vegas.

“Oh, look what I found,” he says, holding my white thong on the tip of his finger.

“Give that to me,” I say, trying to reach across the bed and grab it from him.

“No.” He laughs evilly, then brings the piece of material up to his nose and inhales.

My eyes bug out at his crude action. “You pervert, what the hell are you doing?” I scream as I shuffle my way around the bed. This man has lost his mind. I reach for my underwear, but he holds them high in the air from me. I jump a couple of times before the humiliation makes me stop.

“They’re mine now, a trophy if you will.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” I say, slapping him in the chest. His very hard chest.

“I like it a little rough, continue,” he teases.

My hand is raised to slap his chest again before I let it fall beside me, not giving him the satisfaction. “Urgh, you’re an asshole.” I turn and shuffle away. Where the hell are my clothes? “I don’t know what you did to me or how we ended up together, but I regret everything,” I tell him as I storm out of the bedroom and into the hotel suite.

“That makes two of us. You think you’re the only one disgusted by what’s happened? I can assure you, you’re not alone in that feeling.”

I whirl around and stop, and he almost runs into me. “You wish you could see this all again,” I say, gesturing my hand over my body.

Alessandro rolls his eyes. “You’re hot, I’ll give you that, but there are plenty more hot girls in the world that aren’t a Fiorenzo.”

“Just like there are plenty of men out there with big dicks,” I bite back.

“Oh, so you agree, I’m big,” he teases.

Men.

Fuck him.

I turn around and continue to walk toward the living area. “No one can find out about this.”

“You think I want anyone to find out I had a Fiorenzo in my bed?”

He should be so lucky, I want to say, but I bite my tongue because arguing with him is not going to get me out of this suite any faster. “Good. My father and brothers can never know,” I say, warning him.

“Agreed. I don’t need my father to find out about this. I disappoint him enough as it is,” he mumbles the last bit, which makes me frown as I stare at him. He realizes what he’s said and glares at me as if it were my fault that he let something personal slip to me.

I’m not going to feel sorry for him. He did lose his brother, the heir to the company, while he was a jet-setting playboy who now must fill the role of heir. That is tough. Look at Gio and all the stuff he went through. Urgh. That’s right.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say.

Alessandro stills at my words and those intense green eyes look up at me before narrowing, his entire body tense. I’ve hit a nerve with him. I should have kept my mouth shut.

“Thanks,” he says, finally answering me after our silent standoff.

Right. Well. I need to get the hell out of here. Where are my clothes?

I pause in the living room and see the mess we’ve made, clothes strewn everywhere. My dress is hanging over the side of the sofa, my shoes have been kicked off in the foyer, there are socks, pants, and a shirt thrown around the room also, and there are white rose petals on the floor.

This doesn’t look good. Or maybe it was that good.

“Oh,” I say, assessing the carnage before us. A lamp has fallen over, as has a chair, and pillows are scattered all over the floor.

“Guess we had fun.” Alessandro chuckles behind me, making me jump.

It looks like a tornado has come through the suite. What the hell were we thinking? Whatever it was, it wasn’t with our brains.

“I’m glad I can’t remember what happened, the images would haunt me for life,” I snip, walking further into the living room and grabbing my bra which is hanging off the light and my dress from the sofa.

“Such a shame. I bet if you did, your fingers wouldn’t leave your pussy at how hot it was.”

I whirl around and shove him. “You’re disgusting,” I yell at him.

“Did my filthy words offend the princess?”

I flip him off. “Turn around, I need to get dressed.”

“No,” he says.

“Are you a pervert?”

“No, I’m just not going to make this easy on you.” He shrugs.

Screw him.

I grab my bra and put it on over the sheet, then I grab my dress and slide it over me. Yanking the bed sheet from my skin, I’m now dressed.

“Looks like you’ve done this before?” He chuckles.

“Are you slut shaming me?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

“Never. It was certainly an impressive maneuver.” He grins.

“Can I have my underwear back now, please?” I ask, holding my hand out to him.

He shakes his head. “Collateral damage. It’s mine to make sure whatever happened here doesn’t ever come out,” he warns.

“As if I want this to come out. You’re a sick man.”

He shrugs.

“Hope to never see you again,” I tell him.

“You can hope, but I’m sure that won’t be the case.” He smirks.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyers,” I add.

“I’m sure I will.”

This man is so aggravating. I grab my purse from the floor and slide on my shoes.

“Never speak of this again,” I say, opening the door and walking out. The sound of his deep, guttural laugh is the last thing I hear as I shut the door behind me.

Asshole.