Chapter 6

E NZO

S he’s playing with her food, and it’s pissing me off. She needs to fuckin’ eat. My temper rises, and I’m about to take her fork and shove the food down her pretty throat. Keeping my monster at bay is hard, but for her, I’m trying. I’m trying fuckin’ hard, but she keeps testing my paper-thin patience.

“In some cultures, it’s rude not to eat the host’s food.”

“You? Insulted?”

She has such a smart fuckin’ mouth. “Better watch that mouth before it gets punished. I technically own you now.”

“Oh, is that what I am? Your personal sex slave?”

This fuckin’ girl. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, frustrated and unsure what to do about it. I could force her onto her knees and let her body take over, shut her mind off, let her feel me and me her, but I don’t want just sex from her. One fuckin’ taste six months ago ruined me for her.

The irony is I was fine. I was so focused on bringing down the man who ruined my family that I hadn’t sniffed around a woman in years. I also never wanted a woman for more than a night, but Reese consumed me. I used to make fun of my buddy Vance about his obsession with his wife, but now I’m fuckin’ burning in the same inferno.

“You’re not my prisoner.”

“Great, so I can go.”

Fuck. “No.”

“That’s not how it works. So I’m a prisoner since I can’t leave and all.”

“You’re my guest, but you can’t leave.”

She has the nerve to huff as if I’m the frustrating one. Has she seen herself in the mirror?

“Where you gonna go? Back to your father, who wanted to sell your virginity to the highest bidder?”

“How’d you know about that?”

“My business is to know. It’s how I’ve kept myself alive for twenty years.”

“You married? I’m not into that shit.”

The girl is certifiable. Makes sense for me to be into the crazy one out of the pack. “What?”

Her bottom lip juts out. She looks so fuckin’ adorable as she crosses her arms over her chest, making my eyes focus right on her perfect, round tits. “Are you fuckin’ married?”

Married? Where the fuck did she get that lunatic idea? “Good God, no. What gave you that idea?”

‘'Maybe it’s the fuckin’ closet full of women’s apparel.”

Leaning back, I tip my chair and take her in. Satisfaction rolls through me. If she has even a fraction of the possessiveness for me that I have for her, I’ve got something to work with. “You jealous?”

She shakes her head, but she’s lying. “No. I just don’t fuck married men or men with girlfriends. Whatever the fuck she is.”

“Don’t worry, princess. There’s only one woman for me.”

Her eyebrows knit together. She looks like a little kitten trying to play with the big boys. “Then what am I doing here?”

“You’re the woman,” I state matter-of-factly.

She points towards the hallway. “Then who the fuck owns the clothing in that room?”

I’m so stupid. I didn’t think about how it looked to her to walk into that room and see all that shit. “My sister. They belong to my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes. She’s away at college. She’s younger. Your age. She was adopted into a nice family when we were kids. They didn’t want to take in an older kid, but they took in a two-year-old, no problem.” The words pour out of me, and I’m not sure how to stop them. It’s like my tongue is working against my brain. “They weren’t all bad. They let me see her on holidays and talk to her on the phone.”

“Oh, Enzo.”

“Don’t pity me. I don’t need it,” I spit. The words are harsher than I intended.

I grab a strawberry, dip it in whipped cream, and lean over the table, offering it to her. She opens her mouth and takes a bite of the fruit. A flash of my cock in her mouth invades my mind. I’m desperate to distract her from the conversations about my fucked-up childhood. I plop the rest of the berry into my mouth. “I always have strawberries in the house since that night because that’s what you tasted like.”

She peers up at me, shock flashing in her pretty brown eyes. I want to pull out my guitar and start serenading her with some sappy shit like Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl,” but that’s not who I am. She deserves all that shit, but she got me instead—a broken, fucked-up man who kills people for a living.

Life could’ve been different for her, for us, if I hadn’t come up the way I had, but I can’t change any of that. I can’t promise her flowers and poetry, but I can promise her she’ll never be alone or unsafe. Two things I would give the world to hear from her lips about me.

She touches her lips, and I fuckin’ lose it. I’m jealous of her fingers. I fuckin’ made fun of my best friend, and I’m more pathetic than he is. “Fuck this.”

I haul her out of her chair. Her pretty eyes widen. I’m an asshole for scaring her, but confused anger flares in my blood. I’m unsure if I want to strangle or kiss her until all she can think about is me. The passion fueling me for this girl is all- consuming, so powerful that it replaces all other facets of my life. “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.”

She nods as she bites her bottom lip. “I know,” she whispers before she flings her arms around my shoulders and presses her lips to mine.

My body relaxes in a way it hasn’t for six fuckin’ months.