Enemies to Lovers

Chapter One

Sejal Chaudhary had never claimed to be a good girl.

In the past, she’d channeled her daddy issues into getting tangled up with the wrong men, channeled her mommy issues into

getting tangled up with the wrong women, and channeled her impulsive nature into general . . . tangles.

So it was a disappointment, but not a terrible surprise, that instead of finding someone to hook up with in this sultry Brooklyn

bar, as she’d intended, she was sitting with a dude in the running for Not the Best Guy?. Her only solace was that she was

currently taking all his money.

Sometimes business comes before pleasure. Okay, fine, but she hoped before the night was out, she got some pleasure. A girl had needs and hers were screaming.

“You must be a magician, because it feels like everyone else has disappeared.”

Sigh. A girl couldn’t do a single card trick without a cheesy magic-themed pickup line.

Sejal shuffled her cards with one hand and hooked her heel on the rung of the barstool. Most people didn’t bring a deck of cards out to drink, but most people couldn’t do with them what she could. “Flirting to get out of paying up?” she asked lightly. “It won’t work.”

Her new friend/mark Jack—or was it John?—shook his head. He was a handsome enough man, in a neat, white, country club, square-jawed,

symmetrical kind of way, but she was wary of faces that could be perfectly divided in half.

Especially when they were accompanied by wedding rings. Married back home, trolling for a woman in New York. An all-too-common

scenario that was good for business, but terrible for her already nonexistent belief in the sanctity of marriage.

She hadn’t targeted him. She hadn’t needed to. He was the one who had walked over to her while she’d been quietly sitting

by herself at the end of the bar, sipping her wine.

Not a surprise. She was like catnip for terrible men, and she used it to her advantage occasionally. Leave the good, kind

ones for the other good, kind people. Give her the cheaters, the swindlers, the entitled masses who were rude to waitstaff.

They were her bread and butter.

This trendy bar had become her semi-regular watering hole precisely because it was walking distance to a couple swanky hotels.

There were always at least a few insufferable wealthy patrons in it. It didn’t hurt anyone if Sejal occasionally took a small

pound of flesh from the worst of the bunch.

“I’d never renege on a bet. You fooled me fair and square.” John opened his wallet and made a face as he handed her a fifty.

She snapped it up and made it disappear, too, lest he change his mind.

“One more bet. Give me a chance to earn my money back from the pretty lady.”

Pretty wasn’t a word anyone would use to describe her. Sexy, okay. Striking, sure. Pretty was for floral dresses and sunshine. She

was ripped jeans and dark alleyways. Definitely full of shit, this guy.

But he’s also a gambler. Gamblers were good for business. They never knew when to quit, and judging by the sheen in his eyes, Johnny Boy might go too

far. She discreetly checked her watch. Plenty of time to win some more money from him and then go off and find a nice, non-threatening

person to take home. “Double or nothing?”

“We can do better than that. If you win . . . I’ll give you this.” He took off his watch and placed it on the bar between

them. The gold Rolex was a solid five figures, in Sejal’s estimation.

She tried not to drool. “And if you win?”

“You come with me back to my room.” His smile was lecherous. “And I show you a few tricks of my own.”

Gross. “How do you think your wife would feel about that?”

He glanced down at his wedding ring. “Don’t worry. She’s not important.”

Well, now you have to fleece him.

A well-executed Biddle trick, and then she could walk off with that Rolex. “Let’s see if I can find your card.” She held the

cards face down and let them fall into her palm below, one-by-one. “Tell me when to stop.”

“Stop.”

She halted and faced the thin stack of cards in her top hand toward him. She made a show of looking away, over her shoulder,

though in a second, thanks to a key card and a sneaky overhand shuffle, she’d know exactly which card he’d stopped at. “You

see that card? Remember it.”

“Got it.” He tapped his temple.

So did she. Jack of diamonds. She shuffled, letting the cards fly between her palms like a rainbow. There were so few things

she was good at, but this, this was home.

John’s gaze slid over her body. “I didn’t realize aspiring magicians had to be so in shape.”

Ah, yes, she had told him she was an aspiring magician. She wasn’t. A few tricks did not a magic show make. But everyone needed

a gimmick, and rich men loved struggling artists, perhaps because they thought it implied desperation.

“I go to the occasional Pilates class.” And the occasional boxing class, and jujitsu class, and bootcamp class . . . she wore

long sleeves for a reason. Most marks didn’t need to know she could outbench them. These guns were for utility and safety,

not necessarily admiration.

“It’s working for you.”

“Aw, thanks.” Her answers were growing flat. Time to wrap this up.

She turned the deck over and fanned it out. “I’m going to have to do some light mind-reading here.”

“If you could read my mind, we’d already be back in my room.”

Gag. Let her get through her trick, damn it. “I bet I can narrow your card down to one out of five.” She jogged out five cards,

making sure the jack was the second one in the pile she squared up and stripped out. “One, two, three, four, five. Don’t tell

me if I have it yet. Think it in your head if you see it. One, two, three, four, five.” She made sure her handling was fluid

and hypnotic.

Even if Sejal hadn’t known the jack was his card, the way his eyes darted down and lingered when she flashed it at him would have told her.

She placed the rest of the deck on the pile on the bar, then counted the cards she’d pulled out again.

“One, two, three, four . . . huh. I seem to be missing a vital card. Your card, perhaps.” She paused. “Let’s check over here.”

His smile disappeared when she fanned the rest of the deck out on the bar. The jack of diamonds winked up at them, smack in

the middle of the pile, the only card face up. “Is this your card?” she asked.

John’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Nope.” He scooped up the watch and put it back on his wrist.

Fucker. “Are you sure?” She picked up the jack between two fingers and showed it to him.

“Nah, my card wasn’t even in the five you picked. Guess you’re not that clever after all.” He leered at her. “Would you like

champagne or wine? I can have a bottle waiting back in my room.”

She leaned forward. Predictably, his gaze went right to her chest again. She preferred to wear dark colors, and her black

low-cut, long-sleeved crop top always scored her some good money and good flings.

Back when she was young and dumb, she might have actually gone with him, certain she’d hit a better payoff in his room. Older

and wiser now, she knew a bear in the woods could be safer than a drunk man in a hotel room, even with the knife strapped

to her ankle and the pepper spray in her pocket. Going off alone with someone only happened if her gut approved, and her gut

had signaled its hatred the second this man had sat next to her.

She placed one hand on his arm. She ran the fingers that weren’t touching him along her own neckline. Stealing was all about

smoke and mirrors and distraction, and this man was far too distracted to care about anything but the pretty girl he’d met while traveling for business.

Lazily, Sejal stroked his forearm. He looked down at the touch, then back up when she spoke. “No thanks.” She slid off the

barstool and came to her feet. “See ya.”

John’s fingers, surprisingly strong, locked around her wrist before she could step away. His face hardened. “You’re running

away after you got my money, huh?”

“I’m leaving after you lied,” she specified, though to be fair, she would have walked away regardless. She tried to subtly

twist away. John was annoyingly strong, though. She wasn’t a stranger to self-defense, and she’d happily break his fingers,

but that would break her current cardinal rule as well. Stay invisible.

Because otherwise, maybe the cops would be called, and then she’d have to go pack up her apartment and leave New York, her

cozy home for the past few months, which would be a shame. Especially since she’d considered simply stopping her journey here

in Brooklyn for a while. She was tired of always running like someone was going to grab her off a sidewalk and throw her in

a van. Again.

“Lied?”

“I found your card. The jack of diamonds. You broke the unwritten code between magician and volunteer by lying about it.”

He looked confused for a second. Then he glanced at his wrist and tightened his grip so much, the gold band he wore dug into

her skin. An ugly sneer twisted his symmetrical features. “You bitch. You stole my watch.”

Ah, no. She was getting soft, if he’d noticed her light larceny. But it’s yours. You found his card.

Her poor innate sense of twisted justice. She pasted a smile on her face, pulled the watch out of her pocket, and slapped

it on the bar. “I was kidding around, bud. Here you go.”

His voice deepened. “You’re coming with me.”

Whoa there.

Worry licked along her nerves. He’d definitely made her radar as a sleazeball, but in a garden variety sort of way. She hadn’t

expected him to be this aggressive.

Terrible man catnip.

“I won’t be going anywhere, actually.”

The music turned up and the dance floor behind them instantly grew crowded, signaling the midnight hour. His thin lips turned

up in a smile that would have chilled her if his next words hadn’t. “You don’t have a choice.”

The words pinged against the animal part of her brain that was always on the run. She rolled onto the balls of her feet, ready.

Cobra.