Page 20 of Hitched to My Enemy
As he closed his office door, I confronted how dramatically my approach had shifted. Three days ago, I'd arrived determined to find violations and shut him down if necessary. Now I was actively protecting his casino from sabotage. The commission would call it compromised objectivity, but it felt like discovering a better regulatory path—collaboration rather than adversarial enforcement.
***
By late afternoon, the atmosphere between us had subtly transformed. Perhaps it was the shared crisis, or our seamless handling of the media, but my carefully maintained professional distance was eroding.
I'd abandoned my peach blazer hours ago, and somehow we'd migrated from opposing sides of his desk to working side-by-side on his leather couch, laptops balanced on the coffee table, documents surrounding us like exam preparation.
"Anything useful in the security footage?" I asked, stretching to relieve tension in my neck. The movement pulled my silk blouse taut, and I caught Easton's momentary glance before he redirected his attention.
"Three individuals accessed the gaming area between midnight and 4 AM," he replied, his voice carrying a rougher edge than before. "All with seemingly legitimate purposes."
"What about the machine access logs?"
"That's where it gets revealing." He shifted closer, his proximity registering like static electricity. "The programming alterations were executed using executive override codes."
"How many people possess those codes?"
"Five. Myself, Bryce, the IT director, security chief, and night operations manager."
I set my laptop aside and turned toward him, suddenly hyperaware of our closeness. "Any of them experiencing financial pressure? Gambling debts? Family emergencies?"
"Not that I'm aware of, but..." He raked fingers through his hair, disheveling its perfect styling and revealing vulnerability beneath his polished exterior. "I'm discovering significant blind spots about the people I've trusted implicitly."
His quiet pain resonated unexpectedly. This wasn't merely business—it was betrayal by someone in his inner circle, undermining everything he'd rebuilt.
"We'll uncover the truth," I said softly, my hand finding his arm before rationality could intervene. "Evidence always reveals patterns, even when we'd rather not see them."
"Does it?" He turned, our faces now inches apart, his gaze dropping momentarily to my lips before meeting my eyes again. "Because right now, every indicator points toward people I consider family."
"I understand how difficult—"
"Do you?" His voice roughened with emotion. "Have you experienced someone you completely trusted selling you out for money?"
His question struck deeper than he could know. "My ex-boyfriend," I admitted quietly. "He leveraged our relationship for inside information about pending investigations. Sleeping with a casino lobbyist while extracting confidential commission data from me."
I rarely disclosed this—not even Camilla knew the complete story. The humiliation of discovering I'd been exploited both professionally and personally had reinforcedevery wall around me, solidifying the "Ice Queen" reputation my sister occasionally referenced.
Easton's expression darkened. "Harlow... I had no idea."
"The betrayal was multifaceted," I continued, surprised by how naturally the confession emerged with him. "Beyond the infidelity and professional compromise was the realization of my own blindness—how completely I'd trusted someone who saw me as merely useful."
"His catastrophic mistake," Easton said with unexpected fierceness. "Anyone who'd violate your trust that way is profoundly unworthy of it."
"Careful, Hardwick. That sounded dangerously like admiration."
"It was." His palm cradled my cheek, thumb tracing my jawline. "You're remarkable, Harlow. Your intellect, your principles, your determination to protect what's right... it's extraordinary."
My breath caught at his touch's tenderness. We'd crossed into hazardous territory, the space between us charged with tension that had been building steadily. Every casual contact, every shared glance, every moment of professional respect had been kindling to a flame threatening to consume my better judgment.
"This crosses every line," I whispered, yet made no move to retreat from his touch.
"I know." Desire roughened his voice. "This complicates everything imaginable. But Harlow, I can't stop thinking about you. About us. About what happened in that chapel."
"We were intoxicated, making reckless decisions—"
"Were we?" His thumb traced my lower lip, sending an electric current through me. "Because this doesn't feel like regretwhen you respond to my touch. When you look at me with those eyes."
The distance between us vanished incrementally, his breath warm against my lips. One movement would bridge the gap. One moment of surrender would transform everything.
