Takedown: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance

by Lana Hartley

Victor ignores me and addresses Melissa directly. “I can take this from here,” he tells her. “Owen is distracted to say the least.”

  She looks at me as if it’s all finally registering.

  “I can take a hint,” she says, pouring another drink.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from the entrance for one fucking millisecond.

  Obsessed doesn’t even begin to describe the way I’m acting right now, but I don’t fucking care.

  Is she okay? What if she got hurt or something?

  “He’ll be alright.” Victor nudges me again. “Right, man?”

  “Huh?” I stare at him in a daze.

  Victor smiles at Melissa. “See?” he says confidently, although his story is unconvincing.

  I’m not selling it because I am indeed fucking distracted. I can’t seem to rip my thoughts away from her and that’s very unlike me.

  “What about his speech?” Melissa’s eyes dart nervously between us.

  “He’ll wing it.” Victor shoots her a wink and a smile.

  Melissa is like the fucking queen bee, guarding the hive. She looks reluctant to leave my side, but Victor nods reassuringly at her again.

  “Don’t worry, I can take care of Owen. He just needs some TLC from his best friend.”

  “Okay,” she says reluctantly.

  Melissa gives him a nervous glance, but she stands up and hesitantly moves away from us, most likely to do something else behind the scenes. I don’t fucking know, secretary and assistant type shit.

  Victor takes a sip of his whiskey and stares at me.

  I drink the whole fucking thing down like a shot, hoping it will quell my desire for her. I stare at the door some more, and I’ll keep staring forever if that’s what it takes.

  “Dude, are you alright?” he asks, and waves his hand in front of my face as if he’s trying to break my trance.

  “Yeah,” I respond robotically.

  “Then what the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I look at him and laugh. “Nothing.” I pour another drink from the bottle of high-end vodka sitting at our table.

  “You seem really distracted, Owen,” he says.

  “I’m not,” I deny, although I don’t really have a valid fucking point to back myself up with either.

  “Does this have anything to do with your fail-safe plan?” Victor asks.

  I don’t look at him, I merely stare straight ahead. “Eye on the prize my friend, eye on the fucking prize.”

  “Do you want me to give the toast then?” Victor looks at me.

  “Maybe.” I shrug.

  “Well, it’s time,” he says.

  “How the hell do you know?” I look up and scan the room.

  I notice Melissa waving at Victor, indicating that he needs to help get me ready for the speech.

  “Sure, go ahead,” I say, and give a defeated look to Victor. “You’ll do great.”

  The last thing on my mind is giving a damn poetic speech to this room of money-laden people. I don’t care about investments. I don’t care about business. All I want is to see her.

  Victor takes a deep breath. “Okay, no problem, dude.”

  He gestures for me to stand up, which is the least I can do. This is my fucking party after all.

  When Victor is sure he can grab everyone’s attention, he clears his throat and clinks a spoon against the side of his glass.

  Everyone stares at him, and at me because I’m standing right there beside him. I know they’re expecting me to say a few words, but I don’t have it in me right now. I still have time to kill before my big speech at dinner.

  Victor directs every film I make, so he’s more than worthy for the task at hand.

  “Good evening, everyone.” Victor’s voice bellows in the room, capturing the moment.

  “I’ll keep this short and sweet, because I’m not good with the words like Owen here.” He chuckles and points a thumb at me.

  I put on my best charming smile and wave to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming.” At least I’m able to say that much to the room full of my friends, peers, and coworkers.

  “Anyway,” Victor says and holds up his glass, “I would like to propose a toast. We are at the two-year mark for Lone Wolfe Productions. Our success is broad and growing like wildfire. We would just like to thank each and every one of you, members and investors alike, for all of you play an intricate part in the role of keeping this operation successful. So, this party is for you, because together, we are one.”

  Victor raises his glass high and proud, and the crowd joins him, clapping and roaring with their congratulations and joy.

  Once the chatter begins again, Victor and I sit down next to each other again on the couch.

  “Thanks for saving my ass.” I give him a chagrined look.

  “Anytime.” He slaps my back. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “I know I’m still going to have to go on the stage later when everyone sits down for dinner,” I say begrudgingly.

  “You’ll do fine,” Victor reassures me.

  I know I’ll do fine. Talking in front of a crowd is no big thing. But my distraction is at an all time high. And instead of perusing the crowd for potential models to fuck, there is only one woman on my mind.

  Fucking Molly.

  She has a hold on me.

  Chapter 15

  Molly

  I’m wearing black lingerie and not much else.

  I stare at the two dresses lying on my bed, each one costing upwards of $2000.

  Each one appeals to me in different ways.

  Do I want to be elegant or sexy?

  It’s a difficult choice.

  I’ve been here for what feels like forever, trying to determine the perfect outfit that will entice Mr. Owen Wolfe.

  He’s been on my mind constantly. I can still remember his taste, his skin, his massive fucking cock.

  I analyze the dresses.

  One is a nude bondage style dress.

  The other is black, lacey, and long.

  They’re each out of my comfort zone and the new Molly inspires both. I’m not playing it safe tonight. I’m continuing on my quest to be adventuresome and spontaneous.

  I mentally compare them for at least five minutes, but shit, I still have no fucking clue which one to wear to Owen’s party.

  I want to make a bold statement but dressing for a guy is not my usual routine.

  If this was a normal occasion, and the old Molly was choosing the dress, things might go a little differently. There would be no contemplating. I would choose a simple, conservative dress befitting of a CEO, a woman in control of her image and life.

  Granted, I’m not CEO yet.

  So tonight I will make a statement, a sexy statement. And people will talk about Molly Quinn.

  They will say how relaxed I am and how I’m on the arm of none other then Owen Wolfe. And hopefully, word will get back to my father and he’ll realize I can work hard and play hard just like any man out there.

  In an instant, upon thinking about my father, I decide to go with the black dress. I can still be myself but with a little more skin showing.

  The tides are turning, though, and I’m realizing there’s a lot of power with this new freedom.

  I like this life of spontaneity and unrestraint.

  I hate to say it, but could Daddy dearest have been right?

  I want more fucking chocolate in my life and less plain ole’ boring vanilla, dammit.

  What does freedom mean to me, you might ask?

  First of all, it represents that I can actually have a choice, and not allow myself to always take the easy road.

  The nude dress is more conspicuous, yes. However, the black dress is bold, daring and sexy.

  The new me should most definitely go for the black. Don’t you agree?

  I take a deep breath and pick up the black dress. I step into it and realize how very well it accentuates my slender body. I stare at myself in my full-length bathroom mirror and gasp i
n disbelief at the sexy as fuck woman who stands in front of me.

  I’m proud of myself, and I can’t fucking wait to see Owen’s eyes drop right out of his skull when he drinks me in with desire.

  I leave for the party, having a driver drop me off right in front of the hotel. I ride the elevator to the top floor where I know the party is happening.

  I can hear the crowd’s mingling chatter and the music playing as I slowly approach the entrance doors.

  “May I take your coat, Miss?” A female attendant gives me a polite smile and holds out her hand.

  I’m wearing a trench coat. I’m not chickening out; it’s just a chillier night than usual for this time of year in the city.

  “Yes, thank you,” I say, and shake my arms out of the coat.

  I tip the attendant and head inside, adjusting my hair and dress at just the last second before entering.

  I look around, observing my initial surroundings. It looks like any normal party I’d attend. There are people dancing in the center and a live band plays.

  The room is completely packed, and I find myself having to weave and maneuver around people, bumping and brushing up against strangers as I push through to the bar area.

  I’m taking my time, walking slowly so I won’t miss the chance of finding Owen, my date for the evening―just like he wants.

  I finally spot him in the lounge area on the balcony.

  “Owen,” I call out, hoping he can hear me.

  He turns around and as our eyes meet, my heart beats faster and blood rushes between my legs, pulsing in my pussy.

  I give him a cheesy wave that I pray doesn’t look like desperation to his point of view. His hair is perfectly manicured, short and dark. He has clean-cut features and not a lick of facial hair.

  He’s wearing a tuxedo that makes him look even sexier than he already is. Yep, he pulls off the James Bond type of look exceptionally well.

  He approaches me, and I grin from ear to ear.

  “Hello,” I greet him.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad you were able to make it.” He plants a soft kiss on my cheek, and it tickles me as his lips brush against my skin.

  “You’re welcome; it’s my pleasure,” I respond with sincere enthusiasm.

  Now comes the special moment I’ve been waiting for. Owen glances at me, checking me out from the ground up.

  He’s undressing me with his bedroom eyes as a devilish and playful grin stretches across his gorgeous face.

  “You look…” He trails off in wonderment as he continues to ogle me. “Absolutely fucking beautiful,” he finally finishes his sentence.

  “Thank you,” I say and spin in a subtle little twirl.

  “That dress really leaves little to the imagination,” he whispers into my ear. He smells delicious.

  “This dress represents the new and improved version of Molly Quinn,” I confess.

  “I like this new Molly Quinn,” Owen says as he intentionally brushes up against me so that I can feel the growing bulge in his pants.

  “Should we go get a drink?” I ask and point to the bar area inside the lounge.

  “Absolutely.” Owen nods and follows me inside.

  Just as we’re about to hold hands, someone announces over the microphone that it’s time for Owen to give his founder’s speech.

  So instead of heading to the bar, I follow him into a large reception hall where people are sitting at round tables eating catered salmon steaks and prime rib.

  “You can sit up there with my best friend Victor.” He points to a table in the front.

  “Okay,” I whisper and watch as Owen takes the stage. I can’t help but feel excited for him.

  As I watch him stand at the podium on the stage, my heart swells with pride for being chosen to be at his side, celebrating this fantastic and well-deserved milestone for him.

  He speaks with such love and respect for his colleagues, and I like how he mentions a slew of them by name, giving them praise and recognition.

  That, to me, shows character and diplomatic behavior in a man, something I respect. Something Owen clearly has in spades. He’s also got the sexy smoldering look going on, and I wish I could jump his bones right there on the stage.

  Everyone has a discretion point, though, and even the new Molly can’t take the passion and heat that far.

  I have a fleeting moment of sadness as I watch him talk because I naturally compare myself to him. It’s just how I am. Loneliness gnaws at my mind. Owen got where he is all on his own, without the help or support of his parents.

  I wish I could claim my own right to success, with or without my parents’ help. I have a feeling that, either way, I’m going to end up walking that road alone somehow.

  When Owen’s speech ends, everyone erupts into applause and some people in the back even whistle. Owen looks humble as he climbs down the stage stairs, in the wake of a standing ovation that I’m happy to be a part of.

  Chapter 16

  Molly

  The vodka and lime slides easily down my throat and hits my belly with a warm splash. I check the time and notice it’s getting late, but I’m nowhere near tired or ready to go home. I’m waiting for Owen to get back from making his rounds of the evening.

  He’s been gone a while, but I don’t mind passing the time with a drink in hand. I’m sitting on a red velvet couch in the VIP lounge, people watching while others mingle on the other side of the door.

  I stand up and walk over to the window and look down at the city below. Manhattan is so fucking beautiful at night, all lit up and dazzling.

  I sip my vodka and lime again, taking a larger gulp. I look down at it. Fuck, it’s half empty already. Maybe I should slow down and pace myself, but it’s calming my jitters about what to expect from Owen tonight.

  I guess I don’t have much time to think it through because in the same instant that I’m wondering what happens next, Owen’s smiling face walks through the door of the VIP lounge.

  “Hey,” he says and gives me a wave.

  “Hi,” I greet him and move from the window to embrace him in a hug.

  He’s warm and burly, and oh so fucking sexy.

  He’s wearing a tuxedo and his charming good looks are magnified by his sexy billionaire attitude.

  “You clean up nice.”

  “You are simply stunning.” He stands back to drink me in.

  I feel vulnerable as his eyes scan me up and down.

  “Your curves are perfect—just enough.”

  “Thanks,” I say and watch him as a mischievous grin spreads across his lips. His eyes are hungry and twinkle like the electric city below us.

  “I’m really sorry it took me so long.” He goes into apology mode, genuinely looking sorrowful for making me wait around for him to come back.

  “It’s no big deal.” I wave a hand dismissively.

  As he slowly approaches me, my breath catches in my throat and I freeze in place for a moment, unable to move from the chemistry swirling around us like a magnet.

  “No, really…I’m so sorry,” he whispers and breathes into my neck as he leans in.

  His cologne is sexy, his tuxedo suit does him incredible favors, and it’s totally affecting me.

  As I stare up at him, I feel a warm and tingly sensation run through my body like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper back. “I know you have to be an impeccable host to your guests.”

  I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding in my chest.

  “You’re one of my guests, too,” he says with a grin, and takes another step closer to me.

  “Yes…” I trail off, breathing heavily.

  “So, I need to make sure you are completely satisfied, too.”

  “Oh?” I question him mock-innocently, but I have a feeling, based on his sexual innuendo, that I know exactly what he’s referring to.

  “It’s true.” He takes his index finger and thumb and brushes them softly against my cheek, then p
ulls my hair off my neck. “Now that I’m certain everyone out there feels entertained enough, it’s your turn.”

  “My turn for what?” I’m nearly panting now.

  The room closes in on me. For right now it’s only me and Owen in existence, in the whole fucking world.

  “To feel good,” he responds and wraps his arms around my waist.

  He’s muscular and strong and I instantly melt into his arms.

  “I do feel good,” I say and smile up at him.

  “Your night’s about to get even better,” he says excitedly and moves away, back towards a nearly hidden alcove, where he closes us off from the party by pulling a velvet curtain closed, leaving us tucked away in a private VIP lounge.

  We’re alone, but surrounded by people at the same time. It’s private, intimate and sexy, but knowing everyone else is right outside gives me an even bigger sensation of arousal. I’m already fucking soaking wet in anticipation.

  “Come here,” he says in a whisper.

  My legs have a mind of their own, and I walk slowly towards him, the force emanating from him so strong that it’s pulling me to him without me even thinking.

  When I reach him, he gently twirls me around. “You are so fucking sexy, you know that, right?” He looks at me as if he expects me to answer.

  “If you think so,” I say.

  The next thing I know his breath is icy cool against my neck, sending shivers of erotic pleasure up my spine.

  The room goes blurry for a moment as I realize what’s happening. His hands are all over me, frantic with desire as he unzips the back of my dress.

  I’m hot, then I’m cold, then I’m full of sexual friction and heat that I crave to have satisfied by Owen.

  He kisses my neck and moves down to my breasts, where he plunges his face between my cleavage. I’m not wearing a bra because it doesn’t go with the dress.

  I take slow breaths to pace myself as he sucks my tit. I’m gasping, moaning for more, totally entranced by this guy. And I know I’m getting in too deep but I really don’t fucking care. I want him. The need is almost unbearable.

  “You’re so sexy,” he breathes as I run my hands through his hair.

  He moves me over to the couch and pushes me to a sitting position. He helps me climb out of my dress and tosses it aside.