My Tender Enemy

“What do you want from me? People like you don’t just help like that.” He smirked.

“—What I wanted, I’m already getting.”

After blinking in confusion for a couple of seconds, I understood: he was talking about sex.
No, I didn’t have illusions about feelings. I perfectly understand people like Yaroslav Petrenko—cold, smart, calculating. They don’t fall in love, they only use.
Even now, saying it out loud. Because I’m sure that in reality he’s hoping to obtain something important to him through me. And I have to find it first to be able to stand up against the man—because I know: he’s my enemy. An enemy I—somehow—can’t say I’m indifferent to.