Page 28 of Hitched to My Enemy
"You did!" She hopped onto a barstool, leaning forward with gleeful interest. "Harlow Clarke, Ice Queen of Gaming Regulation, finally thawed by a handsome hotelier. I knew that gala wasn't just professional. This is delicious."
"It's not—" I started, then stopped, recognizing the futility of lying to my sister. She'd always been able to read me like one of her art books. "Yes. Last night. It was a mistake."
"A mistake," she repeated, grinning now. "So when you didn't answer my texts asking how the gala went, it was because things went really well? Sure doesn't look like you regret it."
I abandoned my coffee preparations, turning to face her. "It's complicated, Gis. He's the subject of my investigation. There are ethical considerations—"
"Is he married? Engaged? Your boss?" she interrupted, ticking options off on her paint-stained fingers.
"No, but—"
"Then the complications are professional, not moral." She waved dismissively. "You're a grown woman who had consensual sex with an attractive, available man. The apocalypse remains unscheduled."
"The horror is that I could lose my job, my career, everything I've worked for," I shot back.
"Because of one night?" She snorted. "Seems extreme."
I turned away, busying myself with the coffee maker. If she only knew it wasn't just one night—it was an accidental marriage followed by a very deliberate night together. But that revelation would have to wait.
"There's something else," she said suddenly, her tone shifting. "You're not telling me everything. When I encouraged you to go to that gala, I meant have fun, maybe flirt a little. But you've gone from professional antagonism to disappearing for two days. What really happened that night?"
I froze, my back to her. Giselle had always possessed an uncanny ability to sense when I was hiding something.
"Harlow." She slid off the stool, coming to stand beside me. "What's really going on?"
I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. "It's more complicated than just sleeping with him."
"How complicated?"
"I can't tell you yet. Not until after the licensing approval." I met her eyes. "I promise I'll explain everything then, but for now, I need you to trust me."
She studied my face for a long moment. "Are you in danger?"
"No. Nothing like that."
"Are you making choices that feel right to you, even if they break your usual rules?"
The question caught me off guard with its perceptiveness. "Yes."
Her expression softened. "Then I trust you. But I want to meet him."
"What?"
"This man who's got you breaking rules and keeping secrets. I want to meet him. Properly. Not just hear about him from society pages."
"Giselle, I can't just—"
"Yes, you can. Call him. Dinner tonight. Neutral territory." Her expression brooked no argument. "I need to see this guy for myself—the one who managed to get my sister from reluctant gala date to overnight guest in less than 48 hours."
I recognized the determination in her stance. There would be no dissuading her. "Fine. One dinner. But we keep things professional in public."
"Cross my heart." She made the childish gesture we'd used since we were kids. "Now call the man who's got my rule-abiding sister breaking protocol and tell him her sister can't wait to meet him."
While I made the call, Giselle wandered through my condo, stopping at my bedroom door. "Can I borrow your coral sweater? The one with the scoop neck?"
"In the second drawer," I called, waiting for Easton's assistant to connect me.
A few moments later, I heard Giselle's voice from my bedroom. "Harlow? What's this?"
