241

Serafina

I knew he would come and find me, so even though I desperately wanted to take a shower and change into the clothes Veda had given me, I sat on the bed and waited after washing the smears of blood from around my mouth.

The ring that was still on my finger sparkled in the light. I'd become a wife and a widow on the same day. My husband-I choked down the hysterical laughter that rose in my throat-killed in cold blood right in front of me. And I felt…nothing.

No anger. No regret. No relief. No joy.

Nothing.

Time slowed as I heard Enzo's footsteps approaching the room we'd shared before he so carelessly discarded me. They stopped right outside the door.

My heart too loud in my ears, I watched the doorknob. It seemed to take forever, but finally, I heard the slight rattle of metal, the knob turned, and the door opened.

Enzo strode into the room as though he hadn't had that moment's hesitation before he came in. What was he afraid of, I wondered? His eyes found me immediately, sitting there on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. He was still wearing the bloody clothes he'd shown up in.

He stopped just inside the door, reaching behind him to close it. "How are you feeling?"

Nothing. I felt nothing.

When I didn't answer him, he chewed on the inside of his cheek, studying me. His eyes, completely visible without his sunglasses, roamed over my face before they dropped down to the rest of my body. Though my skin burned everywhere they touched, I held perfectly still. There was no way in hell I was going to allow him to see how much he affected me. Not if I could help it.

"Did he hurt you badly?"

"Yes," I told him. There was no reason to lie about it. My body still ached everywhere Luigi's belt had struck me. I'd probably be black and blue in the morning if I wasn't already.

The muscles in Enzo's jaw flexed. "I wish I could kill him again. Only this time I wouldn't let my temper get the best of me and I'd break him apart, piece by piece."

"Why did you come there?" I asked him, despite the promise I'd made to myself to hate him. But I wanted to know. I needed to know. Was this some stupid macho man bullshit? Or was it something more?

"Because you're mine, Sera."

I did laugh then. It was an ugly sound. "Yours?" I repeated incredulously when I could speak.

His eyes narrowed in on me. "Yes."

I was so fucking confused. "Do you always give away your property and then kill the man you gave it to and take it back?" A thought occurred to me. "Is it the hunt? Is that it? Does the chase excite you? And then once it's over, you lose interest?"

He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. "No, baby. That's not it at all."

I would've stood up then so he could feel the full force of my disgust with him, but my back ached from the beating Luigi gave me. "Then explain it to me," I told him. "Explain to me why a man who was willing to pay an ungodly amount of money just to talk me into spending time with him and who would go all the way to fucking Mexico to save me suddenly wants nothing to do with me."

"It was safer for you to go back to your father than to stay here with me."

"Why?"

He stared at me, his dark eyes burning with so many emotions they seared me through to the bone and made me catch my breath.

"Tell me why, Enzo."

"Because I didn't want to have to choose."

"Choose what?"

"Between you and my family."

I stared at him. I thought I knew where he was going with this, but I needed to hear him say it. "Why would you have to?"

"Because you're a distraction to me, and Luigi wouldn't like that. Because you want to get away from this life. Just like Alessandra."

It all clicked into place. The rumors I'd heard about him were true. The whispers. Everyone was afraid of him because he felt nothing. So coldhearted he murdered his own wife. "And you killed her," I said softly.

Surprise flashed across his face that I knew, but only for a moment. "I did," he admitted.

Chills chased each other up and down my spine. "Why?" I'd always wanted to know what would drive a man to kill the woman he loved, the mother of his child.

"Because Luigi ordered me to do it."

"And you always follow orders," I surmised, "no matter what that order might be."

"Alessandra had become a liability," he continued. "A danger to the family. She blamed him for the death of our son, and she wanted revenge. Other than locking her in a room, which I didn't want to do, I couldn't control her. I kept hoping that she would snap out of it, but she only got worse. Eventually, she would've endangered me or someone else. So he ordered the hit."

"Why did he ask you to do it?"

His expression remained completely impassive, as did his voice. But there was an unforgotten fury in his eyes. "It was a chance for me to prove to him that my loyalty still lied with him and the family."

I frowned. "What about your family? She was your wife, Enzo."

"You think I don't know that?" he asked me. "You think I didn't want to put a gun to my head and join them?"

"So why didn't you?"

He recoiled from my question. Not physically. But I could feel it. It was a cruel thing to ask, but right now I didn't feel like I owed him any sympathy.

I thought I saw something flash across his face before his dark eyes went almost black. His chest rose and fell with every labored breath, straining the buttons on the shirt he wore. "Because Luca made me swear I wouldn't."

"And you do whatever Luca tells you to do." I couldn't keep the sarcasm from my voice.

His eyes hardened. "Luca is my boss. And more than that, he's my friend." He cocked his head to the side. "Is that what you wish, Sera? That you'd never met me? That I'd stuck the barrel of my gun in my mouth and blown my fucking head off?"

No, of course not. I'd never wish that for anybody.

And especially not for him. The sharp ache in my chest just thinking of it was so painful it made it impossible for me to breathe.

He stepped closer to me, so close he towered over me where I sat on the bed. One hand cradled the side of my face and lifted it up until I was forced to look at him. "Is that what you want, baby girl?"

Silently, I shook my head.

"I never should've done what I did," he said quietly. "Jesus, Sera…" His eyes burned into me as they traveled over my face, settling on my lips, and when he spoke again, his voice was little more than a whisper. "You terrify me more than anyone else in my life. I'm terrified, Sera. Even now."

I didn't understand. Why would he be afraid of me?

But it didn't matter. Not anymore. None of this mattered anymore. He'd turned his back on me. Given me back to the very monster I'd tried so hard to escape from as though it was nothing. As though I was nothing. And I wasn't about to forgive him just because he had a fear of commitment.

I wasn't afraid of him, though, and that was kind of fucked up. He'd just admitted to me that he'd killed his wife in cold blood because he'd been ordered to. And yet, the only thing I really wanted to do right now was to lean forward into his hard strength and let him take care of me.

It was insane. I knew that. How I trusted him with my body. But I couldn't trust him with my heart.

Pulling my face away from his hand, I broke eye contact. "I'm exhausted, and I'd like to get cleaned up and go to bed now. I don't want to talk anymore."

"I can help you."

"No." I shook my head. "I don't want you in here."

"At least let me make sure none of your injuries are serious."

"They're not," I told him. "I've had much worse." From my father, for one. "I just want you to go."

I felt his stare, heavy and hot, and I fully expected him to argue with me or just do whatever he wanted to do with me anyway. But to my surprise, after a long pause, he stepped back. "I'll be in the next room. If you change your mind, or you need anything at all, just call out."

"I won't," I told him, lifting my eyes back to his face.

After a moment, he went into the closet and returned with a few items of clothes. "I'll be in the next room," he repeated. Then he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door was closed, I rose painfully to my feet and hobbled into the bathroom. Sitting for so long had left me feeling stiff. Bending over to turn on the bath water made my breath catch and tears fill my eyes, but I managed. Carefully, I removed Enzo's jacket and Luigi's shirt, wishing I could burn them both.

I was glad Luigi was dead. Tomorrow I would worry about the consequences of what Enzo had done, but for right now, I just wanted to soak in the bath and then go to bed.

Gathering the barely-there material of the nightgown in my hands, I tried to lift it up over my head. Burning pain shot across my right shoulder blade where the belt had torn into my skin. I gasped, dropping my arms again, and changed tactics. But the material wasn't stretchy enough to slide it off my shoulders easily.

I started opening and closing drawers, looking for a knife, a razor blade, anything I could use to cut the damn thing off of me. When I couldn't find anything, I tried to rip it, but I wasn't strong enough.

Tears streamed down my face. I had to get this damn thing off. I couldn't stand the feel of it on my skin anymore. I moved to the other side of the sink and started yanking open more drawers, pulling so hard one came completely out and fell onto the floor with a crash. My head jerked up, and I caught my reflection in the large mirror over the sink-a crazy woman with makeup running down her face in streaks, exposing a black eye, and red welts forming on her shoulders.

In a fucking black, see-through nightgown. A nightgown I was beaten in, and no doubt would've been raped in.

Opening my mouth, I screamed at the woman in the mirror, my hands tugging at the gown and then at my hair when I couldn't get it off.

The bathroom door flew open so fast it slammed into the wall behind it and Enzo was there, forcing my hands out of my hair and taking me into his strong arms. I couldn't move, which meant I couldn't get out of this damned nightgown. "Get it off!" I yelled, crazy now. "Get it the fuck off of me!"

Enzo didn't hesitate. His strong hands gripped the neckline at my back and tugged. I sobbed with relief when the material gave. He tore it from me like it was soaked in acid, and I heard his soft curse as it fell to the floor at my feet. Looking up, I saw his eyes on the mirror behind me. He was staring at my back, and judging by the pain I felt, I could imagine what he saw.

Though he practically vibrated with rage, his voice was low and controlled when he told me, "I'm not leaving. So tell me what you're trying to do."

I was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to argue with him. "Take a bath and go to sleep. Alone," I added. Pushing him away from me, I crossed my arms over my naked breasts. I wouldn't look at him. If I did, he would see the conflict in my eyes. Because a part of me-the part that was hurt and fed up and done with his shit-couldn't stand the feel of his hands. But the other part of me just wanted to fall into his arms and allow him to take care of me. To love me. Even if it was only a pretense.

I felt his eyes burning into my bare skin on my shoulders, my stomach, and lower. "Okay." His voice was deep and husky. "We can do that. And I'm helping you."

"I don't need your help now that that stupid thing is off."

"Well, that's too fucking bad, Sera, because you're getting it."