21. Chapter Twenty-One

I sit at the dining room table for a long time, all alone, staring at the sheets of paper and pen in front of me.

Just a few simple sheets of paper. So fragile. So thin. I could tear them up and toss them away. Destroy them for good.

But it won't make a difference. He'll only get more. We could play this game over and over, and in the end, I won't win. I'm being forced into a marriage with a man I used to look up to. One I shared family dinners with. One my family trusted.

Now? I can't stand to look at him.

I won't win this battle. I'm smart enough to know I won't win them all, and that's okay.

What is marriage, anyway? A legally binding contract? Maybe I can use it to my advantage somehow. Rack up credit card bills, put him into debt. I mean, the possibilities are endless, aren't they? Being his wife would mean something, right? I need to get ahead of him—need to let him think I'm being compliant and agreeable but stay on my toes. Everyone has a weak spot, and I have a feeling the only way I'll figure out Enzo's is by getting close to him. By letting him think he can trust me.

I won't sign those papers though.

I've thought about it. It'd be a slap in the face to my father. I should sign them so he knows I did it willingly, as a fuck you to him. Allowing my father to know Enzo didn't have to force me would be a way to get back at him, a thing that would hurt. I should tell him about Saturday too, throw it in his face, so he knows I'm choosing Enzo instead of him. That I'm not fighting to go back to him, the same way he didn't fight for me.

But making things more difficult for Enzo is more satisfying than hurting my father. Regardless of what my father has done to me, whatever situation he's in to have made him think this is his only answer, he is still my father. I love him and care about him. People do terrible things in desperate situations. Yet I don't know what he did, if he did anything at all. For all I know, Enzo made it up. Maybe he's blackmailing my father because of what happened Saturday night.

This could all be my fault.

Me. My fault.

Signing those papers won't make anything more difficult for Enzo, but at least he'll know I'm not backing down.

I sigh, resting my head against the chair.

Dad, what the hell did you do?

My father and I haven't had a single fight my entire life. The closest thing was when he found out I'd broken up with Zach. He was upset. He didn't yell or scream, he just tried talking me into going back to him. Told me how disappointed he was. It hurt—a lot. I didn't tell him that, though. I shut up and took what he gave me because I felt, at the time, I deserved it. Maybe I'd made a mistake in letting Zachary go. But the thought soon left my head after only a few days of being back home and realizing how much better I felt.

Why didn't I tell my father the truth, though? Let him know how I really felt about all of it. Maybe if he'd known how upset his words made me, he wouldn't have pushed me to go back to Zach. Wouldn't have fueled the rebel inside me that made me apply for the key party. My father and I have always had a great relationship, which is what makes all of this so hard to believe.

Has anything in my life not been a lie? Anything that was what it seemed? Because right now, I can't figure out what is truth and what are lies.

Tears pool in my eyes. I blink and they stream down my face. I wish I had answers.

I glance at the paperwork on the table again. It's almost like they're staring right back. Taunting me. Laughing like the guards.

I glance around the room again, catching one of the devil's henchmen walking by the window. Doing his rounds. This place is locked down like a damn fortress.

The mafia. It makes more sense the more I see of this place.

I bet there are people out there who want Enzo dead. Which means…

Shit.

If they find out he's taken a wife, they'll want my head too.

I huff out a disbelieving laugh.

So not only is he ruining my life by forcing me here, but he's painting a big red target on my back too.

It makes me sick to my stomach.

He's going to get me killed!

I'm so stupid. How could I be so stupid?

The papers continue to taunt me.

Signing them will—I don't know. Will it protect me or put me in more danger? I guess neither, considering the marriage will happen either way.

I'm not signing them. I'm not giving Enzo the satisfaction of thinking he's won this.

I did nothing to be twisted up in this mess. This is my father's mess. Why should I be stuck paying his debts? He should be the one forced to marry someone! Not me.

I glance at those papers again. Maybe there's still a chance to convince Enzo to change his mind. Maybe I can talk him into making another deal.

I get up from the chair, leaving the papers where they are and head upstairs. I go to the room I've seen him enter a few times and knock, hoping he's inside.

"Come in!" he calls, and I open the door. He's at his desk, three huge computer screens behind him with camera feed in color. He's looking at something on a laptop, a glass half full of amber liquid beside him.

He looks up at me, his face remaining neutral. Did he know it was me?

"Can I help you?" he asks in a tone that tells me he isn't happy to see me.

"You have to understand where I'm coming from," I say, walking into the room. Enzo holds my stare, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands together. "You're forcing me to marry you for something my father did. How is that fair?"

"Would you rather be dead?"

"What?" I breathe out. I shake my head and step back. "Are you going to kill me if I refuse to marry you?"

Enzo sighs. "Considering I have a load of work to do, and I know you well enough to know you won't stop until you have some sort of answer, I'll give you one. Just one." He raises a brow at me.

"Okay," I choke out.

"Your father messed with the wrong people. People who, without me stepping in, would have killed both you and your father."

I shake my head again, my body going ice cold. "No—"

"Yes," Enzo says.

There's nothing about him that tells me I shouldn't believe him. Why would he lie about that? He's not gaining anything from it. And he hasn't lied to me about anything so far. At least, not that I know of.

"Because…" My mouth goes dry, so I swallow and lick my lips. "Because of the mafia?"

Enzo smirks. "I knew you'd figure it out. Just like I know you'll figure the rest of it out too."

He goes back to his laptop, and I step up to his desk.

"But if it's money he owes, can't I pay it back?"

Enzo shakes his head, not looking away from his laptop. "We tried that already."

"But I know about it this time. I'll make sure we get you the money. I'll—"

He looks up at me and says, "Jordan, you're a smart girl. Act like it." I rear my head back, trying not to be offended by that. "Your father fucked me over. Bad. I risked a lot of things not killing him myself. I get you don't know what it's like in this life, but I do. You need to trust me."

"Trust you?" I gasp. "You want me to trust you?"

"I haven't lied to you about a thing. Why wouldn't you?"

"How could I?" I retort.

"Your issue with me isn't trust. You're pissed because I'm forcing you into something you don't want to do. There's a difference."

"No, there isn't," I grit out.

He holds my gaze, sighing before getting to his feet and moving to stand in front of me.

"I owe Matteo nothing and I've made up my mind."

Tears sting my eyes. "Why are you doing this?" I ask again. "What are you getting out of it?"

He holds my gaze. "You."

I scoff. "I'm hardly a prize."

"In this world you are." He brushes some hair from my face and my eyes fall shut. The moment I realize it's happened, I snap them open. I can't react to him this way. I may be desperate for comfort because this situation sucks, but the last person I want comforting me is him. This is his fault. "A beautiful wife is a privilege to anyone, but in my world, it means so much more. A beautiful wife means beautiful children and a beautiful family. The more children, the bigger the family. Family is everything in my world, Jordan. Don't you get that?"

I shake my head. "No, Enzo. I don't. If I did, we wouldn't be in this situation," I spit out.

He shrugs. That's his response. Just to shrug? This can't be it. This conversation isn't over!

"Please, Enzo. I need to understand. I feel crazy. I feel like I don't know anything about my life, about who I am. You've known me since I was a little girl. You and my father were friends. And even if you hate him now, somewhere deep down, you have to care for me, right? About what I want?"

"Right now, your safety is what I care about."

What a shitty, half-assed response. I wipe my eyes, staring at the wall for a moment to collect myself.

"This will not be a real marriage, Enzo. It's fake. All of it's fake. Just a bunch of legal bullshit. So what's the point?"

"That's all marriage is, anyway. Just a bunch of legal bullshit."

I don't miss the way he parrots my words instead of chastising me for swearing, like he has every other time.

"So what, then? We'll just be married and do what? Live separate lives?"

"It's all up to you."

"So you can do whatever you want while I'm stuck here? You get to go out and have fun. Leave for days while I'm locked in this house? Get to fuck whoever you want? You get to cheat on me with Rafael whenever you want?"

I don't know where that comes from and why the thought of him doing it bothers me, but it does. Maybe because I don't have the freedom to do anything, and he can do whatever he wants.

He's quiet for a moment, and nothing in his features gives away how he feels. "You just said it was fake. Why would it matter?"

I huff out a laugh, not bothering to hide the tears this time.

"You may have my hand in marriage, Enzo, but you'll never have my heart—or my body. Ever again," I growl.

He smirks. Fucking smirks!

"We'll see about that, angel."

Unbelievable. This man is unbelievable! Nothing I say matters to him. He has an answer for everything.

"So I'm just supposed to be miserable for the rest of my life?"

I should walk out. Go to my room. Leave him alone. I don't know why I'm arguing with him because all it's doing is hurting me more.

"You don't have to be miserable. Your lifestyle here won't be any different from what it was with your father. In fact, it'll be better. Besides, you're the one making it miserable." He takes a step closer to me, that stupid scent of his invading my nose again. "I'd give you everything you wanted. Make you happy. Satisfy you every single night. Day too, if you wanted. There are no limits to what I'll do for my wife."

Those words… those beautiful words. If this man were anyone else, if this situation were different, I'd swoon. Swoon so hard. But I can't and I won't because Enzo is only saying these things to make me compliant.

"Except I can't leave. Have no say in how my day goes. Can't get a job. Have friends. Can't do anything I want!"

"Yeah…" He nods. "Except that."

I slap him across the face so hard my hand stings. That's the second time he's let his guard down around me long enough for me to get a good slap in, and I have a feeling one of these days I am going to regret it.

He grits his teeth, his eyes closing as he takes in a slow and steady breath. The rage on his face is clear, and maybe that day is today. Right now. This very moment. The first time I slapped him, I didn't know what he was capable of. Didn't know who he really was. Now I do. Yet, I don't seem to care.

When he opens his eyes, he smiles at me, and huffs out the smallest laugh. I can barely breathe.

"I don't know a single person in this world who has the balls to do that, yet you've done it twice." He takes another step toward me, and I step back, my heart pounding. "You know what that tells me?"

I shake my head, my mouth going dry.

"It tells me you're nothing but a silly, immature little girl who has had a silver spoon shoved up her ass so fucking high it's blinding her." He keeps coming toward me, and I keep moving away. Until my back his the wall and I'm stuck. He places his palms against the wall beside my head, towering over me. That scent. That damn scent of his floods all over me. "The sooner you realize you have no option here, the sooner you realize you belong to me, the easier it'll be for both of us. We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Trust me, angel, either way will be fun for me. But what about you? You don't want to live your life being miserable, I suggest you take the easy route and give. In. To. Me. I have no qualms about locking you in your room and playing the part of the beast. Know why?" I shake my head, cowering against the wall. "Because I am the fucking beast, Jordan. A big bad beast who owns you. And unlike the cute little fairytale, there will be no happy ending if you don't get your shit together."