All Chapters of Craving The Enemy: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

CHAPTER 81I’d called Tyler ten times. Ten. Each one straight to voicemail. By the fifth, my chest had already started tightening; by the tenth, I was pacing the retreat lounge like a caged animal.“Pick up, Reyes,” I muttered into the silence of the ringtone. “Please.”The guys were sprawled across the couches, tension thick in the air. Avery kept glancing at me like he wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Liam was bouncing his knee so fast the table shook.Then some idiot—one of the extra players brought in to “observe,” I couldn’t even remember his damn name—snorted. “He always acted like he was too big for this team. Guess he got what he deserved.”I froze.Before I could even take a step, Malik was already on his feet, towering over him like a storm.“What the fuck did you just say?” Malik’s voice was low, dangerous.The kid swallowed. “I didn’t mean—”But Malik wasn’t hearing it. His fist connected with the guy’s jaw so hard the sound echoed. The kid stumbled back, clutching

CHAPTER 83TYLERI wasn’t fully asleep. That in–between state where your body drifts but your mind still clings to fragments of the world around you. Tyler’s body was warm against mine, his breath uneven against my chest.And then I heard it.Soft. Shaky. Broken.“It’s over.”My eyes snapped open in the dark, but I didn’t move. My chest tightened so hard I thought it would split.Tyler’s voice cracked, so low I almost thought I imagined it.“I love you, Mason Williams Grant.”Every muscle in me froze. The words I’d begged for, dreamed about, clung to. And he said them—only when he thought I was asleep. Only when he thought it was safe.My throat closed. Tears burned behind my eyes. God, it hurt—because the way he said it wasn’t a beginning. It was an ending.I wanted to grab him, pull him back down, kiss him until he admitted it to my face. Until he believed we weren’t over. But I stayed still.I stayed still because I knew—Tyler Reyes never said something like that unless he was abou

CHAPTER 85TYLER“Close the acquisition by end of quarter, or don’t bother calling me again,” I said smoothly, snapping my Montblanc pen shut as if that punctuated the deal. My voice was calm, clipped—the voice I’d perfected in boardrooms, the one Antonio Reyes had carved into me.“Yes, Mr. Reyes,” came the reply on the other end.Click. End call.I leaned back in my leather chair, tugging my tie loose by a fraction. Sharp suit, polished cufflinks, everything immaculate. My armor.The intercom buzzed.“Sir?” My secretary’s voice was hesitant. “Mr. Grant is here to see you.”I froze. For one second, my hand stilled on the tie.No. Not possible.“Mr. Grant?” I repeated, ice lacing my tone.“Yes, sir. Mason Grant.”My stomach twisted violently, but my voice didn’t waver.“Do not let him in.”“Of course—”The doors burst open.My heart stuttered in my chest.Mason Grant. Older. Broader. His hair a little shorter, his jaw sharper, his shoulders somehow wider than I remembered. Dressed down

CHAPTER 87TYLER“Dad, I don’t want to do this.”“Tyler.” Antonio’s voice was cold steel over the phone, the kind that could slice you even through a speaker. “You embarrassed this family once. You will not do it again. This dinner is set. Don’t make me repeat myself.”My jaw tightened so hard it hurt. “Fine,” I muttered, teeth grinding.The line went dead. Classic Antonio Reyes — drop his order like a bomb and leave me with the fallout.I sat at my desk, staring at the city through the massive glass windows of my office, fingers drumming against the armrest of my chair. CEO of Reyes Global, sharp suit, cold exterior. And yet, my father still pulled my strings like I was some rookie who didn’t know how to lace his skates.A date. With some girl I didn’t know, didn’t want to know.I shut my eyes, the memory of Mason’s hands on me flashing uninvited, his voice in my ear, low and rough. Someday I’ll make you mine for real.“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath, standing so fast my chair rolle

CHAPTER 89TYLERThe door clicked shut behind Vesper and Mateo, and for the first time all evening, my penthouse was silent.I leaned back against the door, eyes closing.Peace.That’s what it should’ve felt like. Instead, the quiet pressed down like a weight on my chest.I could still smell Mateo’s spices in the air, Vesper’s perfume clinging to the couch. Little pieces of a life that wasn’t mine but had somehow filled my space anyway.And under it all—like a ghost—Mason.I shook my head hard, crossing to the kitchen and grabbing a glass. Water. Anything to cool the heat crawling under my skin.“Get it together, Reyes,” I muttered to myself, running a hand over my face. “It’s been two years.”Two years of suits instead of skates. Boardrooms instead of locker rooms. Press releases instead of game nights.Two years of swallowing it. Two years of pretending I didn’t want him.I gulped the water like it could wash the memory out of my mouth.But the words came anyway, low and uninvited,