Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

“I know,” Ken folded his arms and stood his ground. “I don’t want any bad blood in my club tonight.”

“I just want to apologize and tell her I love her,” Drew held up his hands. “I’m not here to fight; I just want to save my wedding.”

“In that case…” Ken told him.

“Really?” I asked Ken.

“No,” Ken shook his head. “Look, Drew,” Ken looked at Drew, “let her get it out of her system and have a good time tonight.” He advised.

“Come on,” I stepped up to defend my friend. “Just let us go find Hayley, apologize, and we’ll go.”

“Fine,” Ken sighed. “But I’m going to ask Bruno here,” Ken patted one of his bouncers’ shoulders, “to keep an eye on you both.”

We walked into the club. The place was rocking to a Gruesome song. It wasn’t hard to find Hayley as she was right up front near the stage. There was no sign of Carla.

“Drew?” Hayley shouted as we got closer to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” Drew shouted back.

“Sure,” Hayley nodded. She actually looked happy to see Drew.

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Drew told me and I nodded as the two of them walked away.

So, here I stood watching Gruesome up close and personal. I was really close to them as I could see the beads of sweat on the bass guitarists arms.

“What are you doing here?” Carla hissed at me.

“Hi,” I smiled down at her. It had been a long time since I’d seen Missy Prissy Carla in jeans and T-shirt.

“Where’s Hayley?” She asked me.

“She went to talk to Drew,” I had to lean in close to her to speak into her ear. I could smell her intoxicating perfume. I had this terrible urge to grab her and kiss. I shook my head. What the hell, Damon? Get a grip. “He wanted to apologize for a fight they had.”

“I knew he’d do that,” Carla smiled up at me, taking me by surprise.

“I’m sorry about the beach,” I told her.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Carla raised her eyebrows as she looked up at me. “I think we should just enjoy the band and call a truce for the night.”

“Deal,” I agreed.

“Do you like Gruesome?” Carla asked me.

“I do,” I smiled down at her. “We can’t stay for long.” I told her and pointed to the mountain who was watching me. “Ken sent a watchdog to keep us under control.”

“We weren’t going to stay too long either,” Carla told me. “We were just meant to be here for two hours and then we’re going to your luau.”

“You can come back with us if you want to?” I asked her.

“Cool,” Carla smiled, “Let’s do that.” She ginned at my surprised look.

CHAPTER 11

Carla

I was dreading today. One thing I did not do well was dance. I had no coordination at all. I thought my ballet teacher even eventually gave up on me and told my parents that I had no rhythm. My ballroom dancing teachers said I had two left feet and I don’t even want to think about my try out for cheerleading.

But here I was about to go to dance lessons so we could twirl around the floor with the newlyweds. The worst thing about this dance lesson is that I had to pair up with Damon. Damon who could glide around the dance floor like Fred Astaire or hit the clubs and dance like Tatum Channing.

Last night, we had called a silent truce for the night. After all, he owed me after driving off with my sundress stuck in the door of his car, leaving me standing in my undies. Thank God I had worn a bra, and as we were at the beach, being left in my underwear didn’t seem that bad.

Even though last night had been the first night we’d actually been civil to each other and had an enjoyable evening in each other’s presence, today I knew things would be back to normal. I was giving him the ammunition he needed to get one up on me when he found out I was a really shitty dancer. Actually, even shitty dancers are better than me; that’s how bad I am.

I was going to pull my migraine routine but a note with a bottle of migraine pills had arrived at my door early this morning. It had been from Hayley who knew just how much I dreaded this day because she knew what a hopeless dancer I was. The note had read: Just in case you get one of your “migraines”.

I could always fake a sprained ankle from my run this morning. Ooh, that was an idea! I knew a doctor on the island; surely they’d do me a favor and say that it was sprained. Yes, that’s a brilliant idea. Then I wouldn’t be humiliated in front of everyone or mocked by Damon.