Chapter 30: Blood and velvet secret.

Chapter 30: Blood and velvet secret.
The message still sat on the screen like a stain no one could scrub away. "You're not the first. And if you stay, you won't be the last." Sherry grasped the robe tightly around herself and cold dread slid slowly beneath her skin with unsettling stealth.
Enzo's thumb poised precariously above her phone with jaw clenched tight and every fiber of him tensed up like a loaded gun. His voice was terrifyingly calm and low when it finally came from deep within his throat.
"Where were you when this came in?"
She swallowed. "Sitting right here."
He spun rapidly toward the door with awkward suddenness."Ethan."
Footsteps echoed loudly down a dimly lit hallway within mere seconds after a faint whisper of Ethan drifted silently through the air. Ethan appeared in the doorway, looking sharp in all-black. And his eyes were going from Enzo's bare chest to Sherry's shaking hands.
"Someone got a message to her," Enzo said without turning.
"Trace it. Kill it."
Ethan nodded and vanished without a word. The door shut with a click. Silence fell like a guillotine. Sherry stared at the phone. "It's not just a threat."
"No," Enzo said quietly. "It's a promise."
She turned to him, heart pounding. "Who else was there before me?"
He didn't answer.
"Enzo."
His gaze darted rather quickly to hers. It's freezing rather intensely outside now. He remained curiously guarded beneath an affable exterior and showed no inclination to elaborate swiftly with even slight prompting.
Something akin to guilt flickered underneath pretty quietly. He remained utterly silent. He didn't need to do that evidently.
"I see," she said softly.
She spoke softly uttering words with a gentle tone.
Gosh!... The silence that followed had the weight of many thousands of unspoken truths.
In the penthouse, the walls felt smaller. The skyline is harsher. The illusion of safety is stripped raw by a single message. Sherry paced the living room, and the photo from the villa burned into her brain. The woman's eyes. The scream in her memory. The way Enzo had shut down the moment she mentioned it.
She turned toward him now, standing by the minibar, pouring himself a drink like it was just another night.
"Tell me about your mother."
The glass paused at his lips. He didn't look at her. "No."
"No?" Her voice rose. "You're not even going to lie to me? You're just going to shut down again?" His voice was razor-edged. "Leave it, Sherry."
She walked up to him, placing herself between him and the bar.
"I'm done leaving things. I want the truth."
He turned his face slowly toward her, eyes dark and unreadable. "You want to know about the woman who gave birth to me?" he asked, his voice quiet but ice-cold. "The woman who watched my father destroy me and said nothing?"
She flinched.
"Is that what you want?" he said.
Sherry didn't move. "I want to know why you keep me close but never let me in."
"Because everything I let in," he said, his voice breaking just slightly, "I lose. Or worse I destroy."
For a moment, the mask cracked. Just for a moment. She saw the boy behind the monster. And she wanted to hold him. Kiss him. Destroy every wall he'd ever built to keep people out.
But the moment passed.
He turned away and downed the drink.
That night, Sherry stood in front of the mirror in the master suite, dressed in a black satin blouse tucked into a curve-hugging pencil skirt, hair slicked back, lips painted wine-red. Her heels clicked sharply on the marble floors.
Enzo barely glanced up from his tablet when she walked in.
Sherry stood in front of a mirror in her master suite dressed in a black satin blouse tucked into a curve-hugging pencil skirt and her hair slickly packed coupled with her lips that were painted wine-red.
Her stilettos clicked loudly on the marble beneath her feet. Enzo gazed listlessly down at his tablet and didn't even bother looking up as she strolled quietly into the room.
"I have meetings," she said coolly. "Blackwood board wants answers."
"I'll handle them."
She smirked. "No. I'll handle them." He lifted an eyebrow.
She leaned over, trailing a fingertip down his jaw. "You're not the only one who knows how to control a room, Mr. Blackwood." She walked out before he could respond.
At Blackwood Industries, the air was tense. Whispers followed her as she strode through the glass halls - the CEO's mistress, or something more?
She didn't flinch.
The boardroom was full. And at the head of the table, dressed in blood-red, sat Victoria Hayes.
"Miss Hart," Victoria purred. "Or shall we say... Mrs. Blackwood? No? Oh wait, still on contract, aren't we?"
Sherry smiled sweetly. "Nice to see you, Victoria. Still sniffing around for relevance, I see."
Victoria's eyes glittered. "I'd be careful, darling. You're walking a very thin line. The press already smells blood."
"Good," Sherry said. "Let them. I don't hide in shadows."
A chuckle echoed down the room, male, amused. Sherry's jaw set.
Victoria leaned forward. "You should ask your boyfriend about the deal he made last quarter. Or better yet..." She slid a flash drive across the table. "Listen to what his father had to say about your family."
Sherry stared at the drive. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.
Victoria smiled, victorious. "Careful, darling. You might not like the truth."
Later, in the elevator, the air was thick with tension. Sherry held the flash drive like a ticking bomb, her mind a riot of panic, betrayal, and questions.
The doors closed.
Enzo stepped in.
He didn't speak.
She didn't either.
Then suddenly he slammed the emergency button.
The elevator jolted to a halt.
"What the hell are you..."
He spun her around and pinned her to the mirrored wall, mouth crashing onto hers in a storm of possession and fury.
"You don't get to walk into that boardroom dressed like that," he growled between kisses, "pretending like you don't know exactly what you do to me."
Her breath hitched. "This isn't about the boardroom."
"No," he said, lifting her onto the control panel, her skirt pushed up, panties torn aside. "This is about you thinking you can play me."
His mouth was on her neck, biting, devouring. His hand was already between her thighs.
Sherry gasped. "Someone could see"
"Let them."
She arched against him, her breath catching as he filled her, hard and fast, with the elevator wall cold against her back and the mirrors reflecting every wild, desperate movement.
It was reckless. Brutal. Erotic.
His eyes never left hers.
When they came, it was together a silent scream pressed into each other's mouths, a release so hot and sharp it left her dizzy.
He kissed her afterward.
Not roughly.
Not to dominate.
Just to hold her there.
To remind her who she belonged to.
Later that night, Sherry sat on the edge of their bed, the flash drive plugged into her laptop.
She hit play.
A voice crackled through the speakers.
Deep. Cold. American accent.
Enzo's father.
"Sherry Hart? That name again? I told you we cleaned up that side of the bloodline. Her grandfather was a stain. A thief. He cost me over ten million in 1987. If Enzo gets tangled up with that family again, it's on him."
Sherry's heart stopped.
The audio ended.
She sat frozen, eyes burning, fists clenched.
Everything she thought she knew was her family, the reason Enzo had targeted her company, and the entire contract was unraveling.
And she was at the center of it.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number.
This time, it wasn't a text.
It was a voicemail.
She played it.
A woman's voice.
Low. Cold. Familiar.
"He's not who you think he is. And neither are you. If you stay, you'll both burn."
The line went dead.
Sherry stood, shaky and breathless, just as Enzo walked into the room.
His eyes narrowed. "What was that?"
She turned to him, trembling.
But before she could speak, another message arrived.
A picture.
Of her apartment door - splintered open.
A sign spray-painted on the wall inside:
STAY WITH HIM. DIE WITH HIM.