Sleeping With the Enemy

Sequel: Chapter Ten

Gemma

As my dad explained to me what was going on, his words went in one ear and out the other. I was still in shock, wondering how something like this could happen to me. The entire night felt like a low-budget action movie, and I was playing the part of the dumb, female heroine. The clueless girl who kept throwing herself into risky situations because she didn't know the danger she was really in. The spoiled brat who tried to run off her bodyguard because she didn't want to be babysat. Those characters never fared well, and as reality set in, I was feeling like an idiot. 

For the last few weeks, my dad and Anthony had been lying to me. Anthony wasn't just here for extra security. He was here because I was in danger, and tonight, the men after me proved they weren't just throwing around shallow threats. They were ready to follow through, and if it wasn't for Anthony, they might have succeeded.

At first, I was hurt and angry that they didn't tell me right away, but none of that mattered now. The only thing the truth might have changed was my attitude toward Anthony. I'd given him a terrible time, all because I was angry at my dad for tethering me to unnecessary security all summer. Little did I know, I was actually the target of international terrorists, and Anthony was risking his own life to protect mine.

At the very least, I owed him an apology.

"Gemma? Did you hear me?" My dad said on the end of the line, drawing my attention back in. "You need to listen to Anthony. Whatever he says. No more fooling around. Do you understand?"

"I know, I will." I assured my dad. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Let's see where things are in a few days, okay? Right now, you're safest there. Diego and his men might be waiting somewhere along the way for you if you tried to come home, and I don't want to take any chances. Not until I have eyes on them."

Days? I ran my fingers through my tangled curls. What the hell was I supposed to do holed up here for days without any of my things? No clothes, no toiletries. I didn't even have a way to communicate with anyone. Not to mention the heavy tension binding Anthony and me right now.

Visions of the day leading up to the shooting flashed through my mind. The hot and heavy encounter we had in my kitchen. The way his words sent shivers across my skin and fire into my core that I was still thinking about. All those naughty things he said he's thought about doing to me. And then the cool, harsh rejection. All those sinfully sweet words he said to me, just to turn around and try to play the morality card? No, he liked making me squirm. Liked knowing he had that control over me. Liked turning me on just to rip the rug out from underneath me, and make sure I knew there was no way anything could happen between us. His intentions may have been noble, but his delivery was brutal.

In his own way, he'd been sweet about it, but it didn't stop the sting any less. So, I'd spent the rest of the night throwing myself at all kinds of other men at the club, feeling his intense stare on me the entire time. It was his job to watch me, but this was more than that.

And now I was supposed to spend days locked up here with only him, knowing that nothing could ever happen. Yeah, this was going to be fun.

"Gemma?" My dad cleared his throat.

"I got it. I'll stay here and I won't give him a hard time."

"That's my girl." He said. "Mom and I will call tomorrow, okay? We love you, and we're so glad you're safe."

"I love you, too." I let out a heavy sigh and hung up the phone.

The water was still running in Anthony's bathroom, so I stepped out onto the balcony for a moment of fresh air. The cool breeze made me shiver, and I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to warm up. It was futile, though, and I was seriously regretting my choice to wear this barely there, skin tight dress to the club tonight. At the time, it seemed like a good way to make Anthony jealous, but if I'd known I was going to be stuck with it for the next several days, I might have reconsidered.