The Enemy Who Tempts My Fire: Stolen Moments: Chapter 2

Why does his touch feel like coming home?

The dive bar three blocks from Meridian Tower is exactly where I need to be.

Dark. Loud. Full of people who don't know or care that Maya Chen just watched her life's work crumble in a conference room.

I'm two whiskeys in when he slides onto the stool beside me.

"Drinking alone isn't very CEO-like," Ethan says.

"Neither is stalking your competition."

"Is that what we are?" He signals the bartender for a drink. "Competition?"

"Were," I correct. "Past tense. Since you're about to win everything."

His whiskey arrives, amber liquid that catches the neon light from the beer signs above the bar. He doesn't drink it.

"For the record," he says quietly, "I didn't want it to happen like that."

"Like what? You mean with you getting exactly what you wanted?"

"With Sarah falling apart in front of the people who hold your future."

The words hit like a slap. "Don't pretend you care about Sarah. About any of this."

"I care about—" He stops himself.

"What?" I turn on my stool to face him fully. "What do you care about, Ethan? Besides winning?"

[heartbeat, faster]

His dark eyes search mine, and for a moment I see past the polished exterior to something raw underneath.

"You," he says simply. "I care about you."

The bar noise fades to white static.

"That's bullshit."

"Is it?" He leans closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne. Cedar and something darker. "Three years, Maya. Three years of watching you build something incredible while your partner slowly destroys it from the inside."

"Sarah isn't—"

"Sarah is an addict." The words are gentle but final. "Pills, from what I can tell. Has been for months."

My chest goes tight. "How do you—"

"Because I've been watching. Waiting for you to see it. To do something about it before it killed your company."

"You've been watching me."

"Every day."

The confession hangs between us like a live wire.

"Why?" I whisper.

His thumb traces along the rim of his untouched whiskey glass. "Because somewhere along the way, competing with you became the only thing that made me feel alive."

The honesty in his voice undoes something inside me.

"Ethan..."

"I know you hate me." He finally takes a sip, never breaking eye contact. "I know you think I stole from you. And maybe I did, in the beginning. But what I built afterward—that was all me trying to be worthy of going to war with you every day."

[soft music from jukebox]

"That's twisted."

"Yeah." His smile is self-deprecating. "It is."

The bartender dims the lights, and suddenly we're sitting in amber shadows that make everything feel intimate. Dangerous.

"What happens now?" I ask.

"Now I win the contract. You lose your company. And we go back to being strangers who see each other at conferences and pretend this conversation never happened."

"Is that what you want?"

His hand moves to cover mine on the bar. His skin is warm, calloused from the rock climbing I somehow know he does on weekends.

"What I want," he says slowly, "is to take you home and show you that there's more to life than the war we've been fighting."

Heat floods through me, sudden and overwhelming.

"I can't." But I don't pull my hand away.

"Why?"

"Because you're my enemy. Because this is insane. Because—"

"Because you want to say yes."

The truth of it hits me like lightning.

I do want to say yes. Want to let him drive me to his apartment and learn what his mouth tastes like. Want to discover if his hands are as gentle as his voice when he said he cares about me.

"Maya." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "One night. No companies, no competition. Just us."

"And then what?"

"Then we figure out what comes after."

I look at our joined hands, at the way his fingers fit perfectly between mine.

Three years of hating him. Three years of letting rivalry fuel every decision.

But sitting here in the dim light, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine, I realize something terrifying:

I don't hate him anymore.

I'm not sure I ever did.

"Okay," I breathe.

His smile could power the city.

But as he helps me off the barstool, as his hand finds the small of my back to guide me toward the door, my phone buzzes.

Sarah's name flashes on the screen.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do this anymore.

My blood turns to ice.

"I have to go," I tell Ethan, already pulling away.

"Maya—"

But I'm already running for the door, leaving him and the promise of what we might have been behind in the amber darkness.

Some wars don't have time for truces.

Even when your heart is begging you to surrender.

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