Sleeping With The Enemy. Annie West

of course, it’s the man you object to and not the sex.”

      That wasn’t it at all, and yet she couldn’t tell him that. She’d already lost so much of herself to him—if they spent the night together, how much more would she lose?

      “I—I’m not ready,” she said, still keeping her eyes downcast. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

      She felt him go completely still. “How … amusing,” he murmured, before he dropped her hair and stepped around her, into the room and away from the currents swirling between them.

      Tina’s throat was thick with words that would not come, with feelings and emotions she did not fully understand. She’d blundered, and yet she’d only been trying to preserve her sense of self for a little while longer.

      He prowled across the carpet, his shoulders tight as he opened the liquor cabinet and poured a finger of Scotch into a glass before turning back to her, the drink cradled in his hand.

      “No matter what you might think, cara, I am in full control of my libido. You waste your time imagining that I intend to take you to my bed and have my wicked way with you. We have one bed because one bed is all that was available. You may sleep in it unmolested, I assure you.”

      He downed the Scotch and grabbed his briefcase. “I have work to do, and no inclination to coerce you into doing something which is obviously distasteful to you.”

      Tina awoke the next morning in the bed, though she’d started the evening on the couch. She sat up groggily and swung her head toward the direction of the bathroom. The sound of the running shower came through the closed door. A few minutes later it stopped, and then Nico strode into the room wearing nothing but a towel slung low over his hips.

      Tina bit off a gasp as she grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her chin. Nico stopped in his tracks, his expression wry.

      “You’re wearing the same thing you wore when you went to sleep on the couch, Tina.”

      She glanced beneath the sheet. So she was, though her attire hadn’t quite been the foremost thing on her mind. She let the fabric fall again as hot embarrassment crept through her. He had to be laughing at her on the inside for acting like a startled virgin—though that was not why she’d gasped.

      No, she’d gasped because seeing him nearly naked like that was an assault on her senses.

      And she wanted more.

      “I was fine on the couch,” she said, pushing those thoughts away. “You didn’t have to bring me in here.”

      “You didn’t look fine. You looked cramped. And cold.” He reached into the closet and took out a pair of khaki trousers. Tina jerked her gaze away automatically when he dropped the towel—and then swung it back with a sense of glee. He stood with his back to her so that she could look to her heart’s content without him being the wiser. And what a view it was: muscled shoulders, narrow waist, tight buttocks and long, strong legs.

      Something flared to life in her belly, something hot and dark and hungry. She gripped the sheet in her fists. Oh, my …

      She didn’t remember him carrying her into the bedroom last night—and yet she did remember one detail. She remembered shivering and curling up tight under the blanket, and then something warm and solid had cradled her until she forgot she’d been cold.

      But had it only been him carrying her, or had he lain down in the bed and held her tight? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to ask.

      He slid into a pair of briefs before pulling on the khakis and flipping through the closet for a shirt. When he turned back to her, the dark shirt hung open to the waist, affording her a view of sculpted chest and abs that made her mouth water. Tina bit her lip to stifle a whimper.

      Nico’s gaze was sharp as he looked over and caught her staring at him. “Never fear, cara, you slept unmolested. I prefer that my bed partners participate in the activities. It is much more fun that way.”

      Tina let her gaze drop. “I did not doubt it,” she said, because she knew that if he had tried to make love to her, she wouldn’t have slept through it. “Thank you for making sure I was warm again.”

      He shrugged as he began to button the shirt. “You are the mother of my child, Tina. Regardless of how this began between us, I will take care of you. Nothing is more important than this baby.”

      Her stomach hollowed. Of course the baby was the most important thing—and yet it hurt to hear him say it. To him, she was a possession, a vessel carrying a precious cargo. The thought made her ache inside. What would it be like to marry a man who loved her? To have him be excited about the baby instead of resigned?

      “I have business to take care of,” he told her when he finished dressing. “The wedding will be this evening, so try to amuse yourself for a few hours.”

      Tina sat in the middle of the big bed once he was gone, feeling dejected. Amuse herself. So typical. He went off to run his company and expected her to entertain herself until he returned.

      He was exactly like her brother in that respect—except that Faith had kept working for Renzo until she’d hired her own replacement. There was no way Renzo would dare to tell Faith she couldn’t do what she wanted to do.

      Even now, Faith oversaw his calendar of appointments and basically ran his entire life while taking care of a newborn. Faith was loved and valued and, though Tina would have never thought it possible with her macho brother, she was very much his equal. His other half.

      It was his attitude toward his wife that had given Tina the hope he would eventually cave to her desire to work in the D’Angeli accounting department. She knew he’d been worried she couldn’t handle the pressure, the people, or that her innate shyness would somehow stop her from fitting in. He was wrong, though she didn’t suppose she would get the chance to show him that now.

      Tina showered and breakfasted, then decided to go for a swim in the hotel pool. The exercise would do her good and it would make the time pass until evening. But first she checked her phone for messages.

      There was an email from her mother, who was having the time of her life in Bora-Bora, and a quick text from Faith with a picture of baby Domenico and Renzo.

      Tina’s throat hurt as she swallowed tears. Renzo and Faith were so happy, while she and Nico were merely going through the motions. What would it be like to be so overwhelmingly happy? So in love?

      She pushed those thoughts down deep and went down to the pool. She swam laps for a while, and then sat in the shade of an umbrella and stared at the harbor below. Her thoughts kept going around and around. She almost called Lucia, just to have someone to talk to, but she didn’t know what to say. How could you tell anyone that you were pregnant and about to marry the baby’s father even though he did not love you?

      It was too pitiful, and so she sat and stared at the blue water until she finally gave up and returned to the penthouse suite.

      The last thing she expected to find as she opened the door was a seamstress and a selection of wedding dresses. Shock rooted her to the spot as she stood in the entry with the key card in her hand and the door wide-open.

      There were racks of gowns—gorgeous, expensive gowns with lace and silk and pearls—that must each have cost a small fortune.

      He’d ordered them without her knowledge. Without her input. He’d made the choice for her, just as he’d made so many other choices since barging back into her life in the Pantheon.

      It hurt in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. She was already feeling sorry for herself, feeling like a burden and a possession rather than a cherished companion and equal after seeing Faith’s text earlier, and her hurt feelings bubbled over until she had to act or burst with the effort not to.

      She spun on her heel and marched into the office, uncaring that she was still in her bikini and flimsy cover-up.

      Nico was not alone. Three men looked up in surprise