Chapter 16
PLOT TWIST: TURNS OUT, THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAN FAKE DATING YOUR ENEMY. LIKE REAL DYING BECAUSE OF YOUR ENEMY. #PERSPECTIVE
DAKOTA
“Get changed before Ryker gets here,” Axel barked, his voice rough as gravel.
“Sure thing.” I bent down slowly and was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath. “Just need to finish my cooldown stretches.”
Victory tastes so sweet.
“Dakota. Get. Up.”
“Hold on.” I rose inch by torturous inch, rolling my spine vertebra by vertebra. “You know what they say about proper form.”
When I glanced over my shoulder, I caught him staring at my ass with an expression that looked like pure torture. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and I could see the exact moment he realized I’d caught him looking. The flush that crept up his neck was absolutely delicious.
The man looked like he was about to stroke out.
But then Axel did something I didn’t expect. He stormed across the room in three long strides, closing the distance between us until my brain went fuzzy.
He towered over me, all six foot two of furious male, looking down like his eyes were blazing a path of possession across my barely covered skin.
I’d expected his anger. Hell, I’d counted on it.
I’d even expected the impressive bulge straining against his dress pants.
What I didn’t expect was how prominent it was or how the sight of it sent unwelcome fire engulfing the space between my thighs.
Every inch of exposed skin started tingling. My nipples peaked against the thin fabric, and I prayed he couldn’t see the goose bumps racing down my arms. This was supposed to be revenge, not … whatever the hell this electric current was.
“Do not tempt me, Sunshine.”
His voice was low, dangerous, like a tiger giving its last warning before it pounced.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I managed, though my voice came out breathier than intended. Traitor.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lower, scanning the curves barely concealed by lace and satin.
When his gaze lingered on my peaked nipples, his jaw clenched so hard, I thought he might crack a tooth.
The evidence of his arousal pressed more insistently against his pants, and I had to fight the urge to stare at just how affected he really was.
“You’re playing with fire,” Axel warned, stepping even closer. So close that if I shifted just slightly, my barely covered breasts would brush against his chest.
“Oh?” I tilted my chin up defiantly, even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?”
Why did I just challenge him? What is wrong with me?
His jaw ticced. Once. Twice. A muscle in his neck strained like he was fighting some internal war.
His eyes dropped to my lips again, and I could practically see him imagining what it would feel like to crash his mouth against mine.
I mean, my word, the tension between us was so thick, I could barely breathe.
“Get. Changed.” His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides again.
“Make me.”
Did I just say that out loud? Jesus, Dakota, what are you doing?
Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes.
For a split second, I thought he might actually do it.
Thought he might grab me, pin me against the wall, and show me exactly what kind of fire I was playing with.
His gaze dropped to my lips one more time, and I swear I saw him lean forward slightly before he caught himself.
The bulge in his pants was now impossible to ignore, straining against the expensive fabric in a way that made my mouth water.
Even more alarming, part of me wanted to reach out and touch it.
What in the actual hell?
It was probably just hormones. After all, I hadn’t been with a man since Mathew and I had broken up.
Instead, Axel took a step back, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. But not before I caught the way his eyes lingered on my body one last time, drinking in every curve like he was memorizing them for later.
“Put on some goddamn clothes before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Whoa …
What if I didn’t want to? What if I wanted to—
No, Dakota!
I stumbled backward, suddenly desperate for distance. This was Axel Pierce. My brother’s best friend. My enemy.
So, why did I want to find out what those hands would feel like on my skin? Dipping beneath my bra, my panties?
I thought I’d won this prank. But suddenly, I felt like the loser as I watched him storm down the hallway. Not because he left. But because I didn’t want him to. And because the way he’d looked at me, like he wanted to devour me, was now burned into my memory forever.
An unsettling feeling rocked my core, but I swallowed it. Whatever had happened between me and Axel was nothing. Hormones, fueled with wine. That was all. Him looking at me like he wanted to taste? Was just his hormones, nothing more.
I forced the thoughts out of my head and went into my room and changed into an appropriate outfit: a long-sleeved cotton T-shirt and sweatpants.
There. Crisis averted. No more tingling skin, no more traitorous thoughts about Axel’s hands, and definitely no more wondering what those lips would taste like.
I was winning this internal battle. Totally in control.
Until I walked into the kitchen and found Axel leaning against the counter.
Shirtless.
Oh, for God’s sake.
Apparently, he’d decided to torture me by changing out of his shirt and into …
nothing. Just low-slung sweats that highlighted the V of muscles disappearing beneath his waistband.
His chest was a masterpiece of defined abs and intricate tattoos.
Dark ink swirling across his shoulders and down his arms in patterns that made my fingers itch to trace them.
And, damn him, he was still semi-aroused. The outline was clearly visible through the fabric of his sweatpants, and the sight sent a fresh wave of fire through my already-overheated body.
“Subtle,” I said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and pointedly not looking at the way his muscles shifted when he moved.
“Problem?” He cocked his head.
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t winning. I’d worked too hard on that yoga stunt to lose now.
I opened the water, took a long drink, deliberately letting a few drops escape and trail down my chin to the base of my neck. As I trailed it even lower with my finger, his eyes tracked the movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“No problem at all,” I said sweetly, drawing the water droplet to the neckline of my shirt.
“Just admiring your … commitment to staying cool.” This time, I dipped my finger into the water and slowly drew it into my mouth, wrapping my lips around my knuckle and giving off a soft groan because, seriously, if we were going to play hormone war, I was going to win.
When I pushed the finger deeper into my mouth, his nostrils flared, and I caught the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter behind him. Like he needed something to hold on to, to keep from reaching for me.
Muhahahaha.
I was totally going to go further, but before I had the chance, the elevator opened, and Ryker stormed in like a man on a mission, a manila folder clutched in his hand.
“You want the bad news or the really bad news?” Ryker asked.
His eyes swept the room, landing briefly on Axel’s strategic hand placement over his sweatpants. Ryker’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Axel’s obvious predicament. With a look of pure annoyance, Ryker rolled his eyes and cleared his throat pointedly.
“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath.
“Whatever this is, it couldn’t wait until morning?” Axel wondered. Probably needing to get into his room with a serious bottle of lotion right now.
Ryker ignored him, opening the file with the dramatic flair of a prosecutor presenting evidence. But I guess it tracked; Ryker was a criminal defense lawyer.
“That woman you were caught ‘flirting’ with.” Ryker slapped an 8x10 photograph down in front of us. “Victoria Webb. Senator Stephen Webb’s wife.”
Axel squinted at the photo. “Have you heard of digital photography? It’s this new concept where you can pull pictures up on your iPad instead of printing them like it’s 1995.”
“Her name sounded familiar to me.”
“We already know this,” Axel insisted. “She’s married to—”
“Beyond that,” Ryker continued. “So, I did some digging into her family background.”
Okay? What did this have to do with Axel or me?
“Fascinating,” Axel drawled. “Did you also dig up her favorite coffee order? I’m betting she’s a pumpkin spice latte kind of woman.”
Poor guy. Blue balls was making him super cranky.
“Do you know who Victoria Webb really is?” Ryker’s voice had that edge that meant business.
Axel shrugged, the movement making his shoulder tattoo shift in a way that was definitely not distracting me. “America’s sweetheart. Political wife. Future First Lady. Woman with a ten-carat ring I apparently didn’t notice.”
“Her uncle is Tony Romano,” Ryker continued. “Now, what I’ve gathered here is uncorroborated testimony from an informant my colleague worked with. But it’s long been suspected that Romano is organized crime.”
Axel’s cocky smirk faltered. “The hell you talking about?”
I felt an unexpected twist in my stomach at the thought of Axel being in actual danger.
Ryker slid another photograph across the counter. This one was of a distinguished-looking man in an expensive suit with silver hair and cold, calculating eyes. Despite the respectable appearance, something about his smile promised violence.
“Victoria’s father and uncle have purposely been keeping distance, one side legitimate business, the other not so much.
Meanwhile, behind the scenes, they had an arrangement in which a handpicked politician marries into the family to become their political puppet.
With the help from the Romano business money, they fast-tracked Senator Webb’s political career, in large part from a social media blitz campaign that quickly dubbed them the it couple with aspirations for the White House. ”
“Jesus,” Axel replied.
People used social media for all sorts of things evidently. Who knew even organized crime families had tapped into it?
“Anyway, the arrangement would be a win-win for everyone. The Romano family would have control over the most powerful person in the country. But evidently, Victoria isn’t being as careful as she should be.”
Seriously. She shouldn’t have been flirting with Axel.
“Dakota’s photo is wreaking havoc on their curated image. Crime bosses don’t like reporters digging into their niece’s background,” Ryker said. “Especially when that niece is married to a presidential candidate who’s been very useful to their … business interests.”
“I didn’t know she was married, let alone that she’s connected to the mob,” Axel protested, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
The movement made his biceps flex, and I forced myself to focus on the terrifying man in the photograph instead.
Focus, Dakota. Danger. Death. Very unsexy things.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ryker said. “Your scandal brought unwanted media attention to Victoria’s family ties.
Reporters are starting to dig into the Webb marriage, asking questions about Victoria’s background and her family connections.
No one in the press has picked up on the Romano connection yet; the crime family has done a good job burying it.
But the thing about a scandal is that it has a news cycle.
Reporters have to keep digging up fresh information, and eventually, they’ll run out of readily available material.
They’ll start digging deeper into her background, and when that happens, they’ll uncover this crime family connection.
If that comes to light, his political aspirations are over, and the crime family loses their pawn who’s about to move into the White House.
Now, thus far, there hasn’t been enough proof to make any mob ties stick legally, but public perception is a different beast.”
The room fell silent, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of my heart hammering against my ribs. A muscle jumped in Axel’s neck as he processed the implications, and I felt that stupid twist in my stomach again.
Holy irony, Batman. Here Axel and I were, scrambling to sell a fake relationship because the woman he’d been seen flirting with was married. Only to find out we’d unknowingly exposed that Victoria’s “perfect marriage” was also complete bullshit.
I could practically hear Axel’s furious thoughts: As if we needed another shining example of people crafting fairy-tale images for likes and popularity.
The real kicker? We were all living proof of how quickly that house of cards could collapse, how one misstep could turn the adoring public into a vengeful mob.
“If she has that sort of family, it would have come out eventually. Especially if her husband is running for president,” I reasoned.
“Be that as it may”—Ryker drummed his fingers on the table—“that viral photo is responsible for this coming out. And I’ve heard rumblings from informants about payback.”
Jesus.
“So, you’re here to warn us that Axel is in danger?” Why does the thought of that make me want to throw up?
“Not just Axel.” Ryker’s expression was grim. “You had a role in creating this mess. And you two just went public with your relationship. As far as Tony Romano knows, you’re the beloved girlfriend of the man who’s threatened everything.”
“But,” I protested weakly, “our fake engagement is supposed to make this scandal go away. So, really, we’re helping them right now.”
Ryker’s glare leveled me. “You think mob bosses wait around to see if PR strategies work? They handle problems before they become bigger problems. And right now, you two are problems.”