Seducing the Enemy Read online

  Contents

  About Seducing the Enemy

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Epilogue

  Seducing the Innocent

  Seducing the Stranger

  More Than Want You

  Wicked as Sin

  About Shayla Black

  Other Books by Shayla Black

  SEDUCING THE ENEMY

  A Forbidden Confession novella

  Written by Shayla Black

  This book is an original publication by Shayla Black.

  Copyright 2020 Shelley Bradley LLC

  Cover Design by: Rachel Connolly

  Edited by: Amy Knupp of Blue Otter

  Proofread by: Fedora Chen

  Excerpt from Seducing the Innocent © 2019 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  Excerpt from Seducing the Bride © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  Excerpt from More Than Want You © 2017 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  Excerpt from Wicked as Sin © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-93659669-0

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means—except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without express written permission.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as it is illegal and an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  ABOUT SEDUCING THE ENEMY

  * * *

  Once he takes his pound of flesh from her, will she steal his heart?

  * * *

  I’m Jett, self-made billionaire.

  I have everything I could ever want—except revenge.

  Eight years ago, my best friend and I planned to start a business together…

  Until I fell for his little sister.

  After he found out, he stole my idea and made a fortune.

  She took his side and stabbed me in the back.

  Now he’s in financial straits, while I’m richer than I ever dreamed.

  So I made Whitney a bargain: forty million dollars in exchange for a week of her body.

  But now that she’s in my bed, what if it's not animosity I feel?

  What if I fall for her again?

  * * *

  Enjoy this Forbidden Confession. HEA guaranteed!

  Chapter One

  Dallas

  4 p.m.

  * * *

  Jett

  She’s late.

  Maybe she’s not coming, asshole.

  That’s a distinct possibility.

  What did you expect? You’re the enemy.

  I am, and she’s too smart not to realize I’m springing a trap. She also knows I’m powerful enough to destroy her and all she holds dear.

  But I’d rather not. Does she know that, too?

  I shove the thought away. What’s in Whitney Chancellor’s mind—and heart—now shouldn’t matter. She made a choice, and I’m going to make her regret it.

  You made a choice, too. And she probably hates your fucking guts for it.

  But that doesn’t change anything. If she doesn’t show today, I’ll keep coming at her. I have ways to bend her to my will.

  She will give me what I want.

  I tap an impatient thumb on the charred wood of the handscraped bar. The faux-rustic room is designed to be a “laid-back” watering hole, but since it sits in the middle of a horribly pretentious hotel in an exclusive, five-star part of town, I’m calling bullshit.

  I’ve been here ten minutes, and I already despise this place.

  You’re just nervous.

  No shit. But this site is less than two miles from her house, so I’m here.

  It’s been eight years, and I traveled halfway around the world for this. For her.

  That doesn’t mean she’ll come, especially since you ordered her to.

  In hindsight, that may not have been my best strategy, but cushioning my approach would have been counterproductive. It’s best if she understands I’m a world-class bastard, and nothing—not even her—will soften me.

  Whitney has probably discerned that. After all, I’ve put her in a terrible position. One of two things will happen next: she’ll sweetly capitulate like she seemingly did all those years ago…or she’ll tell me to go fuck myself. With her, I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot.

  I’m almost hoping she chooses the latter.

  At the sound of heels clicking across the tile floors in the otherwise empty bar, I snap around.

  And I nearly drop my jaw.

  Holy motherfucking son of a bitch.

  Why is Whitney still so beautiful that, when I see her, I struggle to string two thoughts together?

  She approaches me, dark hair curling past her elbows, mouth rosy, jewelry understated, ankle-strap heels classic—and black dress instantly sweat-inducing.

  A band of fabric hugs her neck like a collar. Intermittent, gradually widening strips—strung together only by a loose lacing of satin playing a daring peekaboo with her exposed skin in between—tapers down, ending with a black leather belt that cinches her small waist. Her shoulders are covered. So are her tits—barely. But I can’t not see their tempting swells or the soft valley in between. The skirt ends halfway down her sleek thighs where another subtle row of crisscrossed ribbons mirrors the bodice detail just above her flirty hem.

  Two things are immediately obvious: I still can’t look at Whitney without desperately craving her, and she isn’t wearing a goddamn bra.

  This dress would make any other woman look like a whore. Somehow, she elevates it to elegant.

  Clearly, she came to make me suffer.

  She stops at the bar less than three feet from me, and I’d be a lying SOB if I said my heart wasn’t pounding.

  “Whitney.”

  She turns to glance at me over her shoulder, hazel eyes full of anger. “Jett. What do you want?”

  A dangerous question.

  “To talk.” For starters.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  She’s lying.

  “So you don’t want to save your brother?”

  Her expression spits hostility. “You know I do. Or I wouldn’t be here.”

  Yes, just like I know she’s incredibly loyal to him. She’d do anything for him. I’m banking on that.

  Whitney sets her small, chic purse on the bar, laying her left hand on top of it. She’s wearing an engagement ring.

  Fuck. It’s not even subtle. It’s a statement rock, designed to flash a warning to every other man to back the hell off.

  Too bad for her fiancé nothing will make me comply.

  “Congratulations.” I cast a pointed glare at her ring. “Who’s the lucky dick?”

  “None of your business. I presume you summoned me here to negotiate?”

  I nod and try to keep my cool. I’d much rather seduce her—and she probably knows that. It kills me to remember I was the first man to lay his lips on hers. The first man to possess her mouth. She was a very sweet sixteen to my horny twenty-one. I was old enough to know better but too desperate to touch her to care.

  Almost.

  By sheer willpower, I stopped myself short of doing something her very affluent family would have insisted I go to prison for.

  In the end, my restraint didn’t matter. Nearly slipping that one moment cost me everything.

  That seems like a lifetime ago.

  Her hypnotic eyes aren’t filled with innocence anymore. Nope, when she looks at me now, I see venom.
<
br />   “What’s your offer?” she demands.

  “In a hurry? Why don’t we have a drink? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  She scoffs. “Let’s not pretend I matter to you.”

  I raise a brow at Whitney. She does matter…but admitting that would only weaken my position. “Humor me. After all, it’s my forty million dollars.”

  “Fine.” She lifts one delicate shoulder like she doesn’t care, but I can read her. On some level, I get to her and she hates that. “Vodka cranberry. Make it a double.”

  I acknowledge her with a curt nod, then I motion to the bartender, who takes our order.

  “You’re not drinking with me?” She scowls.

  “I never drink.” I haven’t since that summer.

  Whitney’s gaze probes me for a long moment. “Because you’re a control freak?”

  You have no idea.

  I smile. “You can call me names and divert the subject all day. That doesn’t change why we’re here.”

  “So you’re going to lend Vance forty million dollars to save his company—”

  “Which should have been our company.”

  “You lost that lawsuit.”

  “Because your brother is a lying, thieving snake.” And you helped him, didn’t you?

  She arches her dark brow at me. “Is all this charm how you’ve become so successful?”

  Life has apparently roughed up my sweet princess and given her a stronger spine. I like it.

  Breaking her will definitely be more fun.

  “No. I’m successful because I’m ruthless.”

  She says nothing, but her silence concedes the point. She knows. That’s enough for now.

  When the bartender sets her drink down, she grabs the elegant tumbler like it’s a lifeline. That’s the only outward clue that I make her nervous.

  It’s the perfect time to make myself clear. “The forty million is a buyout, not a loan.”

  “He won’t agree.”

  “Then I can wait for him to go bankrupt and buy it up for pennies on the dollar.”

  She glares at me. “How do you know we don’t have other financing?”

  “If you did, you wouldn’t be here.”

  The way she purses her lips is a confession. She’s out of options. “Why do you imagine Vance will listen to me?”

  “He needs the money too badly not to.”

  “He’ll never sell to you.”

  Does she think I’m going to give either of them a choice? “I’ll make sure he has the right incentive.”

  That sets her on edge—as it should. “Like what?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  Whitney tries to shrug like it’s irrelevant, but I see through her. She knows she’s cornered.

  That does my black heart good.

  “Whatever,” she says flippantly. “What’s your proposal? What do I have to agree to so my brother gets the money?”

  “We’re having a drink first, remember?”

  “I’m having a drink. You’re watching me for reasons I can only guess at.”

  She shouldn’t have to guess too hard, especially when she’s dressed like that. Then again, she’s likely baiting me for a reaction. Oh, she’ll get it. But not now.

  When I’m ready.

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.” I keep the words soft, but there’s an underlying command.

  Whitney feels it. She stiffens. “Not much to tell that I’m sure you didn’t find out for yourself. I finished high school. Then I attended Stanford and earned my economics degree. I stayed to finish my MBA. I’ve been home a handful of weeks, trying to help Vance unravel this situation. And here I am.”

  I knew all that. She’s intentionally not telling me what I really want to know. Who has she dated? Who else has she kissed? Who fucked her first? Who fucked her last? Who does her goddamn heart belong to?

  Patience, I tell myself, swallowing back all my questions. I will find out.

  “What about you?”

  There’s the subject change again. Why? She can’t possibly believe I’m going to give her anything she can use against me.

  “After the last summer I saw you? I dropped out of college so I could bartend by night and spend my days developing an even more profitable intellectual property.”

  It was the perfect setup for me…almost. Entire days to push myself to create an even better app than the one Vance had stolen from me. Full nights of making money and hooking up with her acquaintances. That disappointed the hell out of my dad. Even my older brother, Quint, lectured me about throwing my future down the toilet. But Whitney was always in the back of my mind, haunting me.

  I had everything to prove.

  “I launched the following year.” To success beyond my dreams, which spawned a massive tech company that now circles the globe.

  “Tell me about your mother.”

  I sigh. It’s the one weakness I’ll show Whitney because, under all the animosity, she’s too human to use my pain against me. “She died four years ago. Breast cancer.”

  That horrible night, I sobbed and held her hand, watching as she took her very last breath. It still fucking hurts every time I think about it.

  Whitney’s face softens. “I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”

  “Yes.”

  And I haven’t been close to anyone since. I’ve tried. My brother and I have a better relationship now. My sisters, Ivy and Lacey, have reached out again and again. But it’s me. Something inside me is dead.

  I’m almost ashamed to admit that getting beyond my grief didn’t cure my toxicity. Probably because my mother wasn’t the cause. The poison is all about Whitney, about the way she stabbed me in the back and left me to bleed out.

  “I understand. I miss my dad,” she murmurs softly.

  “I heard about his car accident. I’m sorry.” I genuinely mean that.

  She’s had a terrible few years, too. Some part of me that still gives a shit about her—no matter how hard I’ve tried not to—empathizes. That part wants to reach out and hold her, soothe her, and tell her I’m here for her.

  The rest of me has learned better.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs.

  Silence falls again, and Whitney clutches her purse like she’s nervous as she downs the last of her drink. Next time she looks at me, she’s glaring. Her shields are up once more. “So now that we’ve caught up and you’ve watched me drink, what do you want?”

  “In exchange for forty million dollars to save your brother’s financial ass?” I smile tightly. “You.”

  She swallows like my words unnerve her, but she doesn’t look surprised in the least. “I’m engaged.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  Slowly, she closes her eyes. To brace herself? To hide her fury from me?

  Finally, she nods. “What are your terms?”

  “One week.”

  “For me to be your whore?”

  She’s trying to bait me. “You putting an ugly spin on our arrangement isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

  She clenches her delicate jaw. “What do you expect?”

  “I’ll send a car to pick you up at precisely nine o’clock. Bring nothing with you. Anything you need, I’ll provide. When you arrive, the front door will be unlocked. Once inside, you will strip. And you will kneel. Then you will wait for me. You will be completely mine. While you’re with me, you will forget two things: any other man who’s ever fucked you and the word no. You will do anything I desire with, to, or for me during our week together. Am I clear?”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “That can’t be a surprise.”

  “No.”

  “Are you refusing?”

  Whitney hesitates. “No.”

  Triumph spikes. I lay a twenty on the bar for her drink. “You accept? You’ll get in my car tonight?”

  She looks down at the bar like she’s ashamed. She makes me wait and sweat and worry that she’ll r
efuse. But we both know she won’t. For her brother’s sake, she can’t.

  “Yes,” she finally whispers.

  I settle a finger under her chin. “Look at me when you answer.”

  “Yes, I’ll come be your forty-million-dollar piece of ass for the week.” With a jerk of her head, she pulls away. “Don’t touch me until then.”

  I smile at her show of spirit. It’s intriguing—but it won’t last. I’ll make sure of that.

  “You have four hours to get yourself in order. After that…” I trail off into a smile.

  Let her imagine the worst.

  I’m sure she thinks I intend to use her horribly and cause her pain. Quite the opposite.

  I’m going to give her so much pleasure she’ll lose her mind.

  And surrender her heart?

  Since I can’t afford to listen to the mocking voice in my head, I shove it aside and slide a burner phone across the bar to her.

  She picks it up, then frowns. “What’s this for?”

  “To contact me in case you choose to back out. If not, at quarter till ten, you will text me to verify your arrival. Make no mistake, Whitney, this device only allows you to call or text me. So don’t bother trying to use it to contact anyone else so you can tell them where to find you for the next week.” I send her a cold smile. “It will be our secret.”

  I toss those words she uttered to me long ago back in her face.

  Predictably, she blanches. “I hate you.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll see you this evening.”

  I force myself to walk away. The rest is up to her. But I’ve dangled the carrot and I’ve cornered her. She’ll come. She’ll submit.

  Then I’ll make her pay.

  Eight years earlier…

  * * *

  Jett

  I shouldn’t put my hands on Whitney Chancellor. Really, I shouldn’t…but the princess is right there, mere feet away by the shimmering pool, wearing a pink bikini and soaking in the sun. Her long, dark waves brush the swells of her pert ass as she sways to the sexy ballad of the summer.