Chapter 10
Leaning against the wall beside the penthouse door, I wait for Enzo to come up the elevator to let me into the apartment.
I tap my heel against the floor and absently flip through one of the books Enzo bought me.
I’m pretty sure he would’ve let me pick however many books I wanted with shirtless men on the cover without any judgment—well, maybe some judgment.
Still, it was nice. Getting out with him. It was… fun… and surprisingly easy.
I expected Enzo to be right behind me. I glance at the elevator and sigh, eagerly waiting to confirm I survived the big, scary crosswalk without him holding my hand. Chuckling to myself as the elevator dings, I lift my gaze as the doors open and my pulse stutters.
Enzo is not amused—not even close. As he steps out, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are narrow—something dark simmering behind them. He doesn’t look like the man teasing me in the romance section, not more than twenty minutes ago. This version of Enzo is furious.
“I told you not to leave my side,” he sternly reminds, stalking toward me—his breathing heavy and nostrils flaring.
The mood shifts instantly, and my shoulders tense. “It was just across the street.” I shake my head, blinking at him. “I came straight up?—”
He doesn’t give me time to finish. He steps forward, swipes to unlock the door with one hand, and pushes it open with the other—the gesture is sharp and precise. His hand presses against my back, guiding me through the door without another word, and it closes behind us with a dull thud.
“I told you to wait,” he admonishes, walking me toward the kitchen.
I set my books and jacket on the island. Spinning around—feeling defensive even though I’m not sure I did anything wrong—I snark, “You’re seriously mad about that?”
“I’m seriously trying to keep you safe. To keep you alive.”
A nervous laugh erupts from me—because I don’t know how to react to him right now—as I step toward the living room. “ It was maybe fifty feet. What? Did you think I’d get kidnapped in broad daylight?”
“Eavan,” he barks in a tone that causes me to stop cold. “You have no idea what you’re playing with when you act like this. No idea what it does to me.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Before I can respond, he wraps his hand around my arm—not tight, but firm.
It isn’t rough. It isn’t mean. But it’s not gentle, either.
He starts walking, and I stumble once, trying to keep up with him, my boots clicking against the hardwood as he practically drags me across the living room.
“Enzo, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer as he tugs me toward the couch. He sits down and yanks me toward him—and I brace for a scolding in that low, quiet tone he’s perfected. But he doesn’t pull me to the seat beside him.
I let out a gasp. The sound catching in my chest when he drags me across his lap. “Enzo!” He steadies me—one hand braced at my waist and the other resting on my back—and my body tenses from head to toe. I don’t fight him, but I don’t relax either.
“You push every boundary you’re given,” he gruffs. “You think it’s all fun and games. Just a little playful bratting. But what happens when I’m not there to protect you? When someone else is watching—someone who doesn’t have your best interests in mind? ”
“I’m not helpless. I can take care of myself.” I try to twist, to look up at him. “And you aren’t my father.”
“You’re right, princess…” He rubs his hand along my waist and over my hip. My cheeks burn, and I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or guilt… or something else entirely.
He’s quiet for a second. I feel his heavy breaths whisper against the back of my neck, steady but tight as his hand roams lower on my hip. It slides over the swell of my butt cheek and lifts the skirt of my dress to bare my ass—my entire body immediately growing rigid.
“You didn’t listen to your father…” His hand cracks against my panty-covered skin, and a breathy, startled cry blows over my lips. “But you will listen to your Daddy.”
Enzo’s rough palm dusts over my still-warm skin, and I’m completely frozen with shock.
I want to fight. To push myself from his lap.
To scream, I’m not a fucking child. “You need this to learn how to behave, don’t you?
” he asks, roughly palming my ass. I open my mouth to shout ‘no,’ only to surprise myself when I silently nod.
“You promised me that you’d be a good girl.” He spanks me again, and the burn radiates across my ass cheek. My heart slams against my ribcage, and I struggle to catch my breath. “But you weren’t a good girl, were you?”
Before I can answer, he swats twice in quick succession, my skin on fire from the repeated strikes.
With one hand resting on my searing flesh, the other slides up my back and tangles in the hair at the nape of my neck.
He fists it just hard enough to pull my teary eyes up to meet his gaze.
“Do you even care how I felt when I saw you disappear into that crowd?” he asks, his eyes riddled with fear.
I swallow hard at his question. I hadn’t stopped to think about that . He’s not just mad. He was scared. “I… I didn’t mean to upset you,” I mutter, my voice much smaller than intended.
“I don’t like it when you don’t listen.” He shakes his head, his tone softening as he tenderly rubs his hand over the heat of the palm prints I’m certain he’s left behind.
He’s no longer holding me down. I could get up if I wanted to.
But despite my complete and utter vulnerability, I don’t move. I don’t want to.
Enzo’s fingers dip beneath the thin fabric of my panties, and he slides his hand over my ass cheek. His fingertips teasingly rest at the crease of my upper thigh. With his chocolate eyes locked on mine, he whispers, “Tell Daddy you’re sorry, princess.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply, the words cracking on my lips when his fingertips slowly inch toward my inner thigh.
The corner of his mouth ticks up the tiniest bit as he slides further toward between my legs. “No.” He shakes his head, softly demanding, “Say it.”
Locked on his gaze—adrenaline buzzing in my veins from his hand lingering where no man has touched me—I open my mouth and can’t hold back the words that tumble out. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Daddy… The word echoes in my head and flutters between my thighs.
A pleased smile spreads across his face, and the hard edge in his eyes completely fades.
“That’s my good girl.” Enzo’s hand slides fully between my thighs, and his fingertip swirls at the slickness around my entrance before gingerly pressing it slightly into me.
“Daddy likes it when you’re a good girl. ”
I tense at the foreign sensation of his digit rubbing around my entrance and teasingly inching in and out of me. He immediately stills and he urges, “Relax for me. I’ll be gentle.”
“I… uh… I ummm…” I stammer, feeling the heat of the embarrassment over my complete lack of experience creep up my face and flush my cheeks. Twenty-two years old and I’ve barely kissed a man, let alone had one put his hands in my panties. “I’ve never…”
Enzo pulls his hand from between my thighs, lifts me from across his legs, and into his lap until I’m straddling him.
He places his hands on my hips beneath my dress, and his thumbs draw leisurely circles on my bare skin.
“Shit. I didn’t know, princess. I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for,” he softly insists, easing my nerves and tenderly pressing his lips to mine.
“We can go slow.” He peppers the words against my lips.
Wet, languid kisses pass between us, his tongue licking against the crease of my lips.
I part them slightly, and he slips his tongue between them.
It swipes against mine, massaging it gently, causing me to whimper with need into his mouth—a devilish chuckle rising from him as he pulls back from our passionate kiss. It’s like he can read my mind …
Enzo’s warm breath blows across my already flushed cheeks when he leans toward my ear. His short beard tickles my cheek, his lips dust against the shell of my ear, sending goosebumps up my spine. “If you want this, you need to tell Daddy what you want.”