27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

I'm told if I don't show up for three meals a day at exactly the time I am supposed to, Enzo will make the closet my permanent bedroom and I won't have any clothes. The clothing thing isn't so bad, other than being cold. At this point, I may as well give them up so he has one less thing to hold over my head, but spending all my time in that closet? No, thank you.

I hate how much control this man has over me with his words. It's like some kind of crazy mental warfare.

Because of this, I pick and choose my battles. What's worth getting punished over, and what isn't. Because Enzo does go through with punishment. I guess there's a reason why parents use it on their children—it works. And who decides punishment stops as an adult? Sure, it follows people into adulthood when it comes to work and legal stuff, but what about common actions? What about those things your parents would punish you over that no one is allowed to do once you're an adult? Who says you can't do that?

It's just one of those things that happens, but apparently, Enzo didn't get the memo.

My father never punished me.

Never. Not once in my life was I ever punished, but that's because I never did anything wrong.

My father was always fair, and I think the reason I respected his wishes so much was because I trusted him.

Well, that was my first mistake—obviously.

I'm still confused about it all. I understand that he lied to me. Lied to a lot of people, probably. Though, I still don't know the full extent of what he did. I'm here for a reason. I get that, and I'm constantly thinking about the man my father is and the man I thought he was. Seems they aren't the same person. I haven't accepted that yet. I don't know if I ever will. How do you accept the fact someone you trusted for twenty-one years of your life has been lying to you about everything? How do you move on and decide to trust them again?

Okay, maybe he didn't lie to me about everything. I believe he loves me. He has to or he wouldn't have worried about trying to protect me my whole life, because I still think that's what he was trying to do. He tried to keep me away from all the stuff he tangled himself in. Yet he had no problem using me to his benefit when that mess threatened to kill him.

I sigh as I head downstairs for lunch with ten minutes to spare. I'd rather be early than risk being late.

When I get to the kitchen, I find Rafael making a sandwich. A head of lettuce, half a tomato, jar of mayo, and a package of lunch meat is spread out on the counter in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" I question.

He looks at me over his shoulder, smiling. "I live here."

I roll my eyes, glancing into the dining room, noting the papers still there.

"I know, but I thought you were leaving."

"Does that mean you've been friendly with Enzo?"

"No," I snap. "I overheard the babysitter talking about it."

"The babysitter?" he asks with a raised brow.

"Bernice. The one who watches my every move."

He glances around the kitchen. "Don't see her here now."

"Trust me, she's around."

"Would you like a sandwich?" he asks.

A sandwich sounds good. Simple. Better than the heavy food I'm force-fed.

"Sure." I hop onto the counter to sit.

Rafael smirks as he cuts the sandwich he already made in half, puts it on a plate, and hands it to me. I pick it up and take a bite. I can't remember the last time I ate something as easy as a sandwich. It's good.

I look around the kitchen, and of course everything in here was fixed. New oven, new drawers—all of it.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask after swallowing the first bite.

"Yes," he says, lathering mayo onto the thick white bread.

"What is the deal with you and Enzo?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know…"

He glances at me, pausing what he's doing. "I don't."

I sigh and take another bite. I swallow before I explain.

"You with him at the club, living here, yet he's forcing me to marry him. Why doesn't he marry you?"

Rafael chuckles as he closes the jar of mayo and grabs the lettuce.

"I don't want to get married." I stare at him, and when he looks at me, his smile falls. Guess he realized what he said. "I'm sorry." I shrug and focus on my food. "I don't know the full story of your situation. Enzo and I don't share that sort of stuff."

"So what then?"

He layers the lettuce, sliced tomato, and turkey on his sandwich. When he's done, he returns everything to the fridge.

"We have an understanding when it comes to our relationship. It is the way it is for many reasons. I won't share his because it's not my place, but I can tell you I'm happy with what I have with him."

"How can you be happy with someone using you for only sex?"

"Is that what you think?" He raises a brow.

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"Commitments scare the hell out of me. This thing with Enzo is easy. It's simple. There are expectations and rules. I know what I'm getting when I'm with him and know what to expect when I'm not."

"So you're okay with it being about sex?"

"It isn't just sex."

"You guys cuddle late at night?" I smirk.

He shakes his head and takes a bite of his sandwich before going to the fridge and getting two bottles of water. He hands one to me.

"Do you know anything about a dominant/submissive relationship?"

If I answer this, I'm going to sound ignorant and childish, so instead, I tell a little lie.

"I guess not…"

"You experienced it on Saturday. Forget everything after that night. Forget all this mess. At the club, being with us, how did it make you feel?" I think about it for a moment, but don't give him an answer. "Because from what I saw, you were into it. You enjoyed it. You enjoyed letting go, not having to worry. For whatever reason, you trusted Enzo to take care of you. You knew he would. Knew he wouldn't hurt you, knew he would give you what you wanted and needed. It's freeing, relieving. Like a breath of fresh air. Enzo and I mess around, but when we have sessions like at the club? The freeing feeling lasts for days, sometimes weeks."

It sounds familiar. Kind of. My body was sore, but my mind was clear. I knew I could trust Enzo in that room. I gave into his wishes. Trusted him to give me what he promised. I even followed his rules without having to think about it. My body reacted to his, because something in me knew I could trust him. I understand what Rafael is saying, and I can respect that.

"Well, that sounds great and all, but you're forgetting one big thing," I say.

"What's that?"

I pick up my plate with the sandwich on it.

"You can come and go as you please. I'm stuck here forever."

I walk out of the kitchen, passing Bernice. I shove the plate in her face to show her I have food. She makes a squeaking sound and jolts away from me. I quickly go up to my room and slam the door. I sit on the floor in front of it for a few minutes, breathing and trying to calm myself.

I get what Rafael is saying. Truly I do. But why is it he gets freedom to do what he wants, and I don't?

Because Enzo knows he isn't going to run away.

But he could. Would Enzo care if Rafael left? Does he have any feelings for him at all? Rafael is free to do as he wants because he isn't needed the way I am. He isn't a goddamn payment because his parents fucked up.

I am stuck here. Against my will. I have zero choices. I don't choose when I wake up because I have to be down for breakfast. Don't choose when I eat because there are meal times. I also don't get to pick what I eat because the meals are already made. Sure, I can pick my clothes each day, but I only have what I have. I don't have the option to go shopping when I want. I can't go on vacations, can't get a job…

Rafael gets to come and go as he pleases.

Because Enzo trusts him.

Enzo doesn't trust me. Why should he? It doesn't matter because I don't want him to. I don't want to be here. There's no reason he can't force Rafael to marry him. At least the man sort of wants to be here. He should marry him.

This is such bullshit.

I stare at my sandwich and pick it up. If I don't eat, I'll get in trouble.

So, like a child, I force it down, each bite tasting like ash.