Dinner With the Enemy

Chapter 3

The dark glass wall of the private booth suddenly felt less like exclusive luxury and more like a high-end cage.

Three years ago I had sat across from Damian Cross in a place almost exactly like this same low light, same expensive wine, same dangerous promise in the air and believed the heat between us meant I was safe. Tonight I was sitting across from his brother, and every instinct I still possessed told me safety had never been on the table.

“You came,” Nathaniel said, the tension in his shoulders visibly dropping as he rose to pull out my chair. He had ditched the suit jacket, sleeves rolled up his forearms in a way that felt entirely calculated and entirely effective. The sight of those strong, tanned arms made something low in my stomach tighten the same way it had the nights I let myself look too long when Damian wasn’t watching.

“I have questions,” I said, staying on my feet a second longer than necessary just to keep my ground… and to give myself one last chance to walk away from the heat already rolling off him. The same heat that had once made me stay in rooms I should have left.

“Good. I have answers. Some of them might even be true.” He studied my face, voice dropping into a rougher register that brushed against my skin like a touch. 

“You look like you’re deciding whether to bolt for the door. The same way you looked the night you finally chose yourself over both of us.”

“I’m deciding whether tonight is a massive mistake.”

“It probably is,” he said, and the blunt honesty of it actually made me catch my breath. 

“But I’ve found the most interesting things in my life always start out looking exactly like mistakes. Including the first time I kissed you when my brother was supposed to be on a plane.”

He poured two glasses of wine without asking. I sat, ignoring the glass, and leaned across the dark wood. The movement brought me close enough to catch the clean, expensive scent of him something that made my pulse skip the way it used to when he would lean too close at industry events while Damian’s hand rested possessively on the small of my back. 

“Why did you dig into my background three weeks before Cross Media even posted the job listing?”

Nathaniel leaned back, taking a slow sip, gaze never leaving mine. 

“Because Damian was going to hire one of his polished little yes-men. Someone who would smile, nod, and let Special Projects bleed out in secret while he protected his own image. I needed someone brilliant. Someone hungry. Someone who wasn’t already half in love with my brother’s approval the way you once were.”

“So you rigged the hiring process.”

“I made sure your resume landed on top of the pile instead of the shredder.” No shame. Just that dark, unapologetic confidence that somehow made the admission feel more intimate than any lie. 

“I didn’t fake your work, Ivy. You got the job because you’re a genius. I just made sure someone actually saw it. The same way I saw you long before Damian decided you were useful enough to keep in his bed.”

“That’s still using me as a shield.”

“Yes.” The word landed soft and immediate. The lack of a defensive lie was more disarming than any apology. 

“I won’t pretend otherwise. I need someone in that division who can see this company clearly instead of through whatever careful story Damian is selling this week. The same careful story he sold you for two years until you finally walked.”

“And what if I decide to side with him anyway?”

Nathaniel’s smile turned sharp, almost wounded, and for a second I hated how much I wanted to ease that look from his face. 

“Then I’ll have made a very expensive mistake. And I’ll deserve whatever happens next. Just like I deserved the night you chose him over me… and then chose yourself over both of us.”

The waiter arrived, dropping plates of untouched high-end food between us before vanishing into the shadows. Amber light caught the liquid in Nathaniel’s glass and threw long shadows across the sharp planes of his face.

“My father built this empire from a single bankrupt printing press,” he said, voice dropping into a rougher, unguarded register that made the space between us feel smaller. 

“Two sons by two different women. He spent the last ten years of his life playing us against each other like it was a blood sport. He died eighteen months ago. Right around the time you stopped answering either of our calls.”

I felt the timeline click into place, but the words didn’t land as business. They landed as grief and rivalry and something darker something that had once pulled me into their orbit and nearly destroyed me. 

“Right when everything started falling apart.”

“Exactly.” Nathaniel leaned forward, hands flat on the table, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Close enough that my own fingers itched to close the final inch the way they used to when I knew I shouldn’t. 

“Our father left something buried deep inside this company. Neither of us has found it yet. Whoever does… controls everything. Including whatever is still left between the three of us.”

“And you think I’m going to find it for you.”

“I think you’re the only person smart enough and stubborn enough to actually look under the floorboards instead of just trying to save your own skin.” His fingers stopped just an inch short of my wrist. The air between us felt charged, heavy with static, and I hated how badly I wanted him to close that last distance—the same distance I had once crossed in a darkened hallway when Damian was out of town. 

“I know how this looks. Two brothers circling the new girl. But I read your work before I ever thought about using you against Damian. You’re the best creative mind this city has seen in a decade, Ivy. Everyone else was too busy trying to exploit you to notice. Including the man who used to wake up with you and still couldn’t see what he had until you were gone.”

The words hit me right in the center of my chest, bypassing every wall I’d spent three years building. I hated how badly I wanted to believe him. I hated even more that part of me still remembered what it felt like when Nathaniel looked at me like I was the prize worth burning the whole board for.

“Why should I believe a single word you say?” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t,” he said simply. 

“Not yet. But you should at least know that Damian has already lied to you today. About the very nature of your job. The same way he used to lie about how much of you he was willing to share.”

My stomach dropped. 

“Lied about what?”

Before he could answer, his phone vibrated violently against the dark wood. The screen lit up with one name.

Damian.

Nathaniel didn’t answer. He flipped the phone face down, the smooth charm vanishing into pure, rigid survival instinct.

“He knows you’re here,” he said quietly, eyes scanning the crowded dining room. 

“Which means someone in this room is feeding him live updates. We need to assume he’s heard every word. Just like he always seemed to know when I had been too close to what was his.”

Fear, cold and sharp, crawled up my spine but it tangled with something hotter. Something that remembered the last time Damian had walked in on the two of us and the world had ended. 

“You think he’s tracking me? On my first day?”

“I think,” Nathaniel said, standing abruptly and tossing a thick stack of bills onto the table without counting them, 

“that we need to leave through the back kitchen. Right now.”

He extended his right hand toward me. I stared at his open palm, heart hammering against my ribs. Taking it meant crossing a line I couldn’t uncross. It meant choosing sides in a war I had already lost once. It meant admitting that the woman who left both of them three years ago was still capable of wanting the danger all over again.

Before my fingers could move, the heavy glass front door of the restaurant swung open.

Damian Cross walked in alone. His slate-gray suit was immaculate, but his face was deathly pale. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look triumphant. As his eyes locked onto mine across the dim room, the expression on his face was pure, unadulterated terror the same terror I had seen the night I walked out and never came back.

Only this time, I wasn’t the one leaving.