13. Chapter Thirteen

Feistier than I expected.

The more the merrier. I enjoy a challenge, and Jordan Delise will certainly give me a good one.

I'm thankful she doesn't put any of that weird shit in the tub to make her skin slippery. When I snatch her up, she comes up easily, resting on my shoulder. The fact she's soaking wet helps keep her there. The water soaks into my clothing, gluing her to the fabric so she doesn't slip and slide all over.

She screams at the top of her lungs, her little fists banging on my back. She writhes around, trying to free herself, but the only thing it does is make me laugh.

"Put me down! You can't do this! Enzo, stop! You asshole—"

I slap her ass—hard. The sound reverberates through the hallway, and she screeches.

"Mind your language," I warn her.

"Fuck you!"

I chuckle and slap her again in the same spot.

"I can do this all day, Jordan. Keep it up."

She's flailing and fighting, but she weighs nothing, so it isn't a bother to me.

"No, no! You can't do this. I need clothes! You can't bring me outside like this!"

I take long and sure steps, not at all caring she's naked. What does it matter to me? Most of the staff in this house have seen her like this before.

"Enzo, please! Please don't do this."

"You made your choice, Jordan. Next time you'll know when I say something, I mean it."

"I know that now! Please, Enzo, please!"

Her housekeeper, Jeanette, gasps when she spots us at the top of the stairs. She moves toward us like she's going to rush up and save her. She stops though, knowing it won't do any good.

She spoke with Matteo, and he told her what was going on. The coward chose not to be here when I came to fetch his daughter. Anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with him.

"Oh my god, please!" Jordan whines as I start down the stairs. She grips my shirt, tugging it out of my pants. As if that's going to stop me.

"If you want me naked, you only have to ask," I tell her, grasping her thighs tighter.

She growls, digging her nails into the flesh of my back. My cock stirs at the sensation.

"Keep it up, Jordan. You'll have me coming in my pants."

She squeals, another sound of frustration leaving her, and I smile to myself. She's so easy to rile. Gives up way too quickly too. She's a fighter, but she's not confident enough. I make it to the bottom of the stairs and turn to Jeanette, who is wringing her hands together.

"Someone will be by tomorrow morning to gather her things." I continue toward the front door.

"No! Please, not outside. Not outside!"

I push through the door, the sun bright, the air warm.

"Be grateful it's warm, Jordan."

I move down the steps as her sobs start, her body slumping against me.

"I'm sorry, please let me get clothes," she begs. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I won't do it again!"

"Sorry doesn't mean you don't get punished for what you did. It only means you feel bad for it, and apologies don't do a damn thing for me. You'll learn that quickly enough."

Antonio, one of my main guys, is waiting by the opened back door. He hides his smirk behind his hand. Of all people in this world, Antonio knows I'm not one to mess around.

I place Jordan into the back seat of the Escalade and laugh when she scrambles to the other side and tries the door handle. As if I'd allow her to escape so easily. I get in after her. Antonio closes the door and gets into the front.

Jordan is banging on the window. I grab her arm to push her into the seat. She whirls and slaps me across the face so hard it stings. I suck in a breath as she freezes, those golden eyes frantic as she stares at me, knowing she fucked up. I snap my hand to her throat and pull her toward me. Her nails dig into my wrists, those eyes pleading for me to let go. I get close to her ear, and whisper, "Another rule you should learn, and learn it soon, is you do not put your hands on me unless I tell you to." She scratches at my wrist, little whispers of words coming out of her perfect lips. "Touch me again, and I won't let you wear clothes for the rest of your goddamn life."

I shove her away from me, reach for the seatbelt and click it in. After all this trouble, the last thing I need is for there to be a car accident and her die because she didn't have her damn seatbelt on. I get my own on and tell Antonio to get going. Jordan finally sits the hell still.

She buries her face in her hands the entire ride, crying and muttering to herself about how awful her life is.

No. Awful would be her dying.

Had she not pissed me off, I'd have considered giving her a relaxing ride by allowing her to get off. Give her a little taste of the benefits she'll get from being my wife. But she fucked that up the moment she told me she wasn't coming with me.

It takes about an hour and a half before we reach my private road that goes up the mountainside. The gate opens for us when we reach it, and we make our way to the top. My property is built into the mountain about 250 feet from the bottom. It's a long way down when you're standing on the edge of the cliff and looking over the edge. Can't be too careful when you deal with the mafia. The only way people are getting onto my property is if they're scaling the side of the mountain, that I highly don't recommend.

When we stop in front of the house, I get out, move around to her side, and yank open the door.

"Out," I bark.

She stares at the seat in front of her and doesn't move. Doesn't respond.

"You can get out, or you can sit in this hot car and cook. It's supposed to reach 90 today. Do you have any idea what that means for inside the car?"

"Enough to kill me," she mutters, turning her head away from me.

"Have it your way."

I slam the door and turn to the Antonio.

"If she runs, let her go for a bit before you get her. If she stays in the car, call me when she passes out."

I walk toward the house.

"Yes, sir," he calls out with a chuckle.

She wants to test my will, she can test my will. Jordan doesn't want to die. She's only being dramatic because she's a spoiled brat who isn't getting her way. She won't stay in the car longer than ten minutes, I guarantee it. And when she gets out? I'll show her exactly what happens to brats in Vincenzo Bramante's house.