My Secret Enemy

MY SECRET ENEMY CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE ENEMY TO LOVER AMY WATTS MY SECRET ENEMY Contemporary Romance Enemy to Lover Amy Watts CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 The End Copyright [2023] by [AMY WATTS] - All rights reserved. In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved. Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher. Created with Vellum CHAPTER 1 Nora What's the difference between a mole and a spy? The answer depends on which side of the divide you find yourself on. What if you are like me, who works for both sides of the divide? What do I call myself, a double agent? That's me, Nora Ronam, a double agent? The FBI wants me to infiltrate the O'Neil family and take them down, while the O'Neil family wants me to penetrate the competition and block the FBI from tracking their activities. I didn't ask for any of this. I prefer spending my free time holed up in my apartment, surrounded by vintage fashion magazines, and coding away on my computer, when I’m not hanging out virtually with my fellow gamers. As I sit here waiting for my boss, Ryan O'Neil, I can't help but worry about my life. According to the FBI, the O'Neil family is Boston's most dreaded mafia family. Their operations extend through the city and its environs. I have read and watched in movies what the mafia does to snitches and moles. They don't only punish and kill them; sometimes, this punishment is extended to their family members. I wonder if the FBI can actually save me if anything ever goes south while I'm on the O'Neil property as I am now. Despite the danger, I'm determined to see this assignment through. I know the importance of my work and its impact on taking down criminal organizations like the O'Neils. “Sorry, I had to attend to my nieces," Ryan said, interrupting my thoughts. With Ryan, I'm always conflicted about whom to believe. Following their father's retirement, the FBI says he is the next in command. They say he calls the shot on all operations, including assassinations, sex and drug trafficking, and money laundering, amongst others. Before me stands an approximately 6-foot hairy man with an egg-shaped beard on his square face. Smelling nice must be important to Ryan. I can't recall when his scent doesn't overpower any existing smell in a room. Even when he passes by his fragrance lingers to announce his presence. Could he be a killer and the head of the mafia? “It’s fine. I’m just running through the offshore accounts to see that they are all active.” “Well?” "I can see that about five in Venezuela and another three in the British Virgin Islands are inactive," I reply, moving from my position on the couch to approach his desk where he sank into a chair. “See this, none of the accounts in Dubai have been operating in the last six months.” The closer I move to him, the faster my heart beats. I don't know what to make of this reaction, but I can't seem to control it. As I lean toward his side, my elbow resting on his transparent triangle desk, I started talking, hoping the sound of my voice will distract him from hearing my heart beating rapidly against my rib cage. I'm not scared of being around Ryan because he could kill me. Perhaps I should be. Instead, I fear that I might beg him to hold me and to do with me whatever he likes all day and all night long. "These are the British Islands; I want to see what's happening in Dubai," his voice is deep and comforting. I want him to read to me while I fall asleep. But that is impossible, so I silently ask, "Can I at least record you and listen to your voice whenever I like?" “Sorry about that,” I said and flipped to the right page. “Here we go. See this and the rest of them? Nothing has happened since November last year.” Ryan frees his hairy hands from their folded position and scrolls through the tablet. For a brief moment, I wish the tab is my body that he is caressing. I'm sure I would go to heaven and back. Those hands surely don't look like the hands of a killer. They are too fresh and clean. The muscles sculpting their lines could have been from a disciplined workout routine. If anything, I'm glad he can't read my mind. The more time I spend at the O'Neils headquarters, the more I ask myself, are these guys as dangerous as they say they are? Are the rumors about their brutality and violence true? Because beyond moving some funds offshore here and there and creating firewalls to protect their network from the FBI and hackers, I have not seen anything that looks like danger and death. As I return to settle into the chair in front of his desk, I feel Ryan’s eyes following me. I worry that he might be unto me. Maybe he knows that all my devices are cloned and that the FBI can see every action I perform on my laptop. I bet he doesn't know that the FBI has provided me with a unique contact lens that captures everything I do and everywhere I go in this building because if he does, I'm sure I would be locked up in some dungeon somewhere by now. “Do you have your pen?” Ryan asks. I raise my tablet for him to see, “I forgot. I’m getting