19. Chapter Nineteen

A knock on the door has me stirring awake. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep. But I guess throwing a fit and crying hysterically over your life sucking will do that to you. I lift my head and look around the dark room. It's late. How long have I been sleeping?

"Miss Delise?" The muffled voice sounds from the other side of the door, but I'm still groggy and can't make out who it is.

"Yeah?" I call out, stuffing my face back into the pillow.

"Dinner is ready."

I recognize the voice now as Bernice's.

Of course it's Bernice.

Bernice the babysitter.

Bernice can go fuck herself.

"Not hungry!" I call out.

"Mr. Bramante said it's non-negotiable."

"Mr. Bramante can kiss my ass!" I shout.

"I'll let him know," she says with a hint of mischief, as if she's thrilled to tell him I'm being disobedient. As if he doesn't know this is how I'm going to be for, well, forever.

I shake my head, close my eyes, and settle back in. The bed is warm and soft. I could sleep for days. My body completely relaxes, and I drift back to sleep. Until something resembling the Kool-Aid man barreling into my room jolts me upright.

It's Enzo, face hard as stone, storming into my room and damn near taking the door off the hinges in the process.

"When I say non-negotiable, I mean non-negotiable."

Shit.

Enzo yanks the blankets off me. The chill of the cool air from the air conditioner causes my skin to pebble with goosebumps. It's much colder in this house than I'm used to, and I don't like it. Which makes my bed so much more comfortable, considering it gives me the warmth I seek. I don't want to use Enzo's credit card for more clothing—I want nothing from him other than my freedom—but I may have to. There aren't many clothes in my wardrobe meant to keep me warm enough for this house. I've already added all the blankets I could find to my bed, but even walking around isn't comfortable. I feel like I need to dress for a winter snowstorm.

"Go away!" I scream, reaching for my blankets.

"It's time for dinner," he grits out, bunching the blankets and tossing them to the floor so I can't reach them.

"I don't want to eat, especially if it's with you!" I shout, turn onto all fours, and crawl for the edge of the bed to get the blankets.

Enzo grabs onto an ankle and pulls me to him at the edge of the bed.

"You trying to tell me something getting into this position?" he asks in a husky tone that reminds me all too well of that night.

"Absolutely not!"

"No? Got me fooled with the way you're wiggling your ass at me." A low growling sound leaves his throat.

Fury burns deep in my gut. I drop to my stomach and roll to my back, thrusting my free foot at him as hard as I can. Enzo catches it at the very last moment, which is so infuriating because I wanted to kick him in the chest and watch him struggle to breathe. He grasps both of my ankles tightly, yanking me so hard to him the only thing stopping me from flying off the bed is his body. My legs land on either side of him, his hips slamming right between my legs. He grabs my wrists, taking them in one hand and pressing them into the mattress above my head as he leans over me.

"Let me go!" I shout, bucking my hips to get him off me. His scent invades my nose, causing my body to want to lie still and give in. Let him do what he wants. But no! I am not letting him get what he wants because he smells good. I jerk my body around, but the man is a brick wall. I could try for hours, and he'd never budge, but giving up isn't an option. I fight him, but all he does is smile down at me as if he's getting off on this. He presses his weight onto me more, stopping me from moving and making it difficult to breathe.

I scream at the top of my lungs, so loud it burns my throat. He slaps his hand over my mouth so hard my teeth dig into my lips. He grinds his hips against my core slowly, making me feel how hard he is.

This sick fuck is hard!

Don't like it, Jordan. Don't like it!

"The only thing that makes me harder than a submissive partner is one who fights me," he rasps in my ear. He chuckles as he runs his nose up my cheek. "The sooner you realize you will not get your way in my house by throwing tantrums, the better it'll be for you, angel. Now, if you keep fighting me, I'm going to take it as an invitation. So if you don't want my cock buried in you so deeply you'll feel it for days, I suggest you stop. Fucking. Moving."

I let my body fall still because the last thing I want is for him to bring his dick anywhere near me. The panting, though? Can't really control that. It's bad enough his erection is already pressing against my pussy. My pussy that is hot and needy, the traitorous little bitch. He chuckles again, and I hate no matter what, I'm giving him what he wants.

Fighting him? He likes it.

Listening to him? He likes it.

What the hell am I going to do to get this man to realize I'm not the one for him? That he's better off taking me back home? How am I going to make him regret taking me, like my plan dictates I do?

I suck in sharp breaths through my nose, taking in as much air as my crushed lungs will allow. It isn't much. Enzo is lying on me completely, and I'm not sure how he hasn't crushed me yet. He's a beast of a man!

"I've had a long couple of days. I'm tired. We have things to discuss. Now get your ass downstairs to the dining room for dinner, or I'll remove every bit of fabric in this room and burn it."

My eyes widen. My stomach rolls, knowing he isn't joking. I recall the way he pulled me from the tub, carried me through my house, and shoved me into his car. I was naked all the way here, outside in his parking lot, paraded through his house. He told me he did it to prove a point. To make sure I know he follows through. And it worked. What Enzo says, he does.

But it's just clothes. I can go without clothes, right? I can take anything he gives me, because what do I have to lose?

Nothing. That's what.

I have nothing.

He lifts his body from me a little and I suck in more air. After a moment or two, my breathing becomes more normal, and my body relaxes.

"See, wasn't so hard, now, was it?" He drags his nose along my jaw, stopping by my ear. "Such a good little girl for me."

I grit my teeth, my eyes burning with tears. How the hell can someone I've known since I was a child say things like this to me? It's disgusting!

Yet my body responds to his praise.

My pussy pulses at his words, making me no better than him.

I hate this man. Why does my body react to him like this? It shouldn't.

I am the one in control. I'm the one who makes decisions for me. Why is it when Enzo is around, it's like my mind and my body are two separate entities? Why can he say things and I just do them? Like he has a direct line to my brain and calls all the shots? It's entirely unfair!

"We're going to get up now and go down to dinner together, aren't we, angel?"

I nod.

"No more yelling," he says.

I shake my head.

Agreeing with him is easier. So, for now, I'll give in. But I won't stop trying. This man will regret taking me one way or another. I need to figure out what his weakness is first.

He lifts up, smiling down at me. But it isn't a kind smile, not a friendly one.

It's a ha ha, I've got you now smile.

I hate it. I hate him. I hate all of this.

Enzo removes his hand from my mouth. I lick my dry lips, tasting the salt of his hand. His gaze dips to my lips, watching the movement. He blinks, releases my wrists, and pushes himself up before offering me a hand.

Once I'm on my feet, I scowl, so he knows how much I hate him. I move past him and go to the closet. "I need to use the bathroom—and change."

"You have exactly three minutes."

I hurry to use the bathroom and quickly grab clothes to put on other than the t-shirt and shorts I'm in. When I'm done, we head to the dining room together. He has me lead the way, probably so he can keep eyes on me and run after me if need me. Or he's being a perv and wants to watch my ass.

As I walk down the hallway toward the stairs, the smell of pasta sauce and garlic wafts in the air, causing my mouth to water. My stomach growls as I hurry down the steps. It smells so damn good and makes me realize I am pretty hungry. Probably because Bernice the Babysitter wouldn't let me have a snack. The bitch.

When we reach the dining room, the table is set for two, a blue folder by one setting. Vincenzo takes that one, and I sit across from him.

Kat, the cook, carries in a covered glass dish that she places between us. Vincenzo pours us each a glass of red wine before taking the cover off the dish. My gaze lands on the cheesiest, most delicious looking lasagna I've ever seen. I'm practically drooling. Enzo serves us both, giving me a hearty portion. I want to be stubborn and not eat anything to piss him off, but I'm starving and can't stop myself. I love food, and Kat is an amazing cook.

We don't share conversation as we eat. Enzo barely glances at me. I sneak looks at him every few seconds, my gaze going from him to the folder, wondering what's in it. I'm sure he plans to tell me when the moment is right, so I won't give in and ask, like he probably wants me to. Also, there's something about the way he eats that has me wanting to watch him. It's the strangest thing, but the look of satisfaction on his face as he enjoys his food has me feeling things I shouldn't.

Dessert is brought out when we're done, though only for me. A piece of chocolate cake is placed in front of me, and our dinner dishes are cleared. There's no shame in my game. I pick up my fork and dig right into the cake. This girl never says no to chocolate, and again—if I'm going to be stuck here, I may as well get what I can. Maybe he'll kick me out because I eat too much. I laugh to myself—he paid for a night with a woman at a nightclub; I doubt a grocery bill is high on his list of problems. Enzo studies me as I eat, but I don't let it bother me. Let him think I'm a pig, a slob, impolite, whatever the hell he wants.

I. Don't. Care.

The more he dislikes me, the better.

In fact, as I shove the last bite into my mouth, I smile at him. His eyes narrow as I pick up the plate and lick it clean. I lick the plate so damn clean I should put it right back in the cabinet. When I'm done, feeling more than satisfied with myself, my face falls when I see him looking at me with nothing more than a bored expression.

"If you're quite finished," he says, opening the folder and pulling out a few papers that he slides across the table to me, followed by a pen. I sigh inwardly, knowing I made a fool of myself for no reason at all. This man is impossible!

I raise a brow at him, willing my shame to disappear so he doesn't notice my cheeks flaming. Guess I'll have to go further than licking a plate clean to piss him off. I'm running out of things to do to piss him off.

"Marriage certificate and license," he says as I glance at the papers.

"What? No pre-nup?"

He smirks, clasping his hands together. "If you think divorce is a possibility, you're not as smart as I thought you were."

I grit my teeth, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not signing that."

"You will sign it," he grits out.

"I will not," I fire back. "And you can't make me."

The look he gives me next is downright dark. He's smiling, but it's intimidating.

"I don't need you to sign this, Jordan." He taps the top page with his forefinger. "I'm giving you the courtesy of making this decision yourself because I am a fair man. If your signature isn't on these papers within the week, I'll sign them myself." He gets up and smooths his hands down his dress shirt. "And not a single person will bat an eye about it."