Page 15 of Hitched to My Enemy
"Add it to my list of charming qualities. Right after 'impossibly good at making questionable life choices.'"
***
Twenty minutes later, we stood in my private elevator descending toward the executive conference room. Sarah had outdone herself—the peach-colored blazer and matching pencil skirt fit Harlow like they'd been tailored for her, paired with a crisp white blouse and low heels that managed to be both professional and subtly sexy. She'd twisted her hair into a French braid and erased any trace of last night's makeup, transforming herself back into the formidable investigator who'd once destroyed my world.
But I'd seen her in my shirt, tousled and vulnerable and magnificent. That image was burned into my memory now, another layer of complication in an already impossible situation.
"Remember," I said as we approached the executive floor, "we control this conversation. Don't let him set the terms."
"I've been handling hostile interviews since before you owned your first slot machine," she replied, but warmth flickered beneath the coolness. "Trust me to do my job, husband."
The way she said the word—part mockery, part something else entirely—sent heat straight to my core. "Keep talking like that and I might start to enjoy this marriage."
"Don't get any ideas, Hardwick. This is still a temporary complication."
"Of course. Though I have to say, you wear my name well."
She shot me a look that could have incinerated steel. "Your ego really knows no bounds, does it?"
"Just appreciating the irony. Three years ago, you cost me everything. Now you're stuck with my last name."
"Temporarily," she emphasized. "Very, very temporarily."
The elevator doors opened to reveal Bryce waiting, his expression grim enough to confirm my worst suspicions about Enzo's motives.
"Conference Room A," Bryce said without pleasantries. "He brought a briefcase full of documents and what looks like a very expensive attorney. Also been making calls since he arrived—to people who matter."
"How much does he know?" I asked as we walked down the hallway.
"More than he should, less than he wants us to think. But Easton..." Bryce's voice dropped to barely audible. "He mentioned having 'interesting photographs' from last night. We need to assume he knows about your evening with Harlow."
Harlow's expression remained neutral, but her hands clenched at her sides. She was preparing for battle, marshaling defenses against whatever attack Enzo planned to launch.
"Let's finish this," she said.
As we walked toward Conference Room A, I realized that despite everything—the accidental marriage, the career threats, the impossible situation we'd created—I was grateful to have her beside me walking into this fight.
***
Conference Room A occupied a corner of the executive floor, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic Strip views that normally reminded me of everything I'd built. Today, it felt more like surveying everything I stood to lose.
Enzo Ricci sat at the conference table's head like he owned the building, silver hair immaculately styled despite the early hour, his pin-striped suit probably worth more than most people's annual salaries. A leather briefcase sat open beside him, documents arranged with military order. The attorney—a swarthy-faced man I recognized as one of Vegas's most ruthless legal minds—occupied the chair to his right, tablet and recorder suggesting this was being documented.
"Hardwick." Enzo rose with predatory grace, extending a hand I had no choice but to shake. "Thank you for making time in what I'm sure is an extraordinarily busy morning."
"Enzo. Mr. Matamoros." I nodded to the attorney, then gestured toward Harlow. "I believe you know Investigator Clarke from the gaming commission."
"Of course." Enzo's smile could have carved marble as he turned his attention to Harlow. "Ms. Clarke. How fortuitous that you're here. Saves me requesting a separate meeting."
Harlow approached the table with fluid professionalism, revealing nothing of the tension she had to be feeling. "Mr. Ricci. I understand you have concerns about the Jade Petal's operations."
"Concerns, yes. About operations, among other things." He settled back in his chair, savoring the moment. "I've recently acquired some fascinating information about this establishment's compliance with gaming regulations and ethical business practices."
My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice level. "Any investigation will show we've exceeded every required standard."
"Oh, I'm certain your financial records are pristine." Enzo's tone suggested he found this tediously predictable."But compliance isn't just about money laundering and tax obligations, is it, Ms. Clarke? It's about conflicts of interest, improper relationships between regulators and the regulated, maintaining the appearance of objectivity..."
The room's temperature seemed to drop. Harlow's expression remained neutral, but calculation flickered behind her eyes as she processed his implications.
