Chapter 7 Enzo
ENZO
Going back inside the room, I turn the heat to the maximum and quickly change my clothes. Then, taking a seat on a chair, I wait.
Allegra.
I smile to myself. She's small, but she sure packs a punch. I'd been convinced she was a boy until the moment I'd seen her nipples peeking through her shirt.
Damn!
She's a complication I don't need.
I've never been on great terms with the Marchesi. And considering their reputation within our circles—greedy bastards with loose morals—it's no wonder I'd thought she was the same.
From the moment I'd found out she was related to those lunatics, I'd made it my mission to push her, to find out just how far she can take it.
I'd seen the way she'd first looked at me, even when I'd thought she was a boy.
The invitation had been there, in the way her pupils had dilated or how her mouth had parted in wonder.
I might be branded a narcissist, even though I'm anything but. Yet every single woman of my acquaintance has reacted the same way, so I've learned to recognize the cues.
Little Allegra had wanted me, and when I realized it, I'd snapped. I'd been callous to her, and maybe a little too cruel, but in my mind, she was just a second away from doing what everyone's always done—throw herself at me.
So I'd set out to prove to myself that she was just like the others; that she only needed a little nudging before she was willing to spread her legs for me—not that I would have ever taken her up on the offer.
And so I'd pushed, backed her into a corner, and dangled in front of her what she wanted the most—transport back to the port. I'd been so sure she was going to drop her innocent act and fall to her knees before me, begging for my cock.
But she hadn't.
She'd been… unpredictable. From the very beginning, I'd thought myself in control, but she turned the game around and handed me a move I never saw coming.
She'd rather die than become my whore.
Idiotic, but admirable.
She'd proved me wrong. And that gave me pause.
She passed the test.
I'm interrupted from my musings as a shivering Allegra tentatively opens the door, a moan escaping her lips as she steps inside the heated room.
Why is this suddenly erotic?
I shake my head, furious at myself for even thinking that.
"Here." I hand her a pair of pants and a new shirt so she can change. She eyes them suspiciously but takes them.
"Turn around," she motions to me with her hand, and my amusement perks up again.
"Is there anything to see?" I arch an eyebrow. "I thought we established I don't do children," I say, more to provoke her than anything.
I've seen those sharp claws of hers, and maybe I'm a little masochistic, but I want her to scratch me again.
She blushes, the red spreading down her neck. She lowers her head, her eyes fixed on the floor, and the next thing I know, the blanket is off her shoulders.
My eyes widen as she takes her tattered shirt off, throwing it to the ground, before moving to remove her pants.
I can't help it. My eyes are rooted to her body, a mix of anger and curiosity boiling inside of me.
She seems unbothered as she puts on the dry clothes. Me, on the other hand, I'm very bothered.
Because I'd lied.
She doesn't look like a child. She's a woman with a woman's body. One that was very much naked a moment before. I swallow hard, beaten at my own game. Again.
Minx!
"Thank you for the clothes," she says, keeping a distance from me as she sits down on another chair.
"I'd rather not have your death on my conscience," I add casually.
"You didn't seem that concerned a moment before," she replies dryly.
"Bah, that's in the past. I've changed since then," I look intently at her, waiting for her next retort.
"Sure," she narrows her eyes at me, "like a leopard changes its spots."
"Let's say my spots have been genetically modified." I lean forward, the desire to rattle her increasing by the second.
She scoffs, pushing her dainty nose in the air, raising her chin in a challenging gesture. I take a moment to actually study her. She is small and a little too slender.
Her black hair flows down her back, wet strands clamped together from the saltiness of the seawater.
Her dark eyebrows are nicely formed, giving her a gentle look.
Her eyes are a chocolate brown, accented by thick eyelashes.
They slant upward in a catlike fashion. The rest of her face is just like her—small and delicate.
She looks young and innocent, and for the first time, she might actually be those things.
"What's your name, anyway?" she suddenly asks.
"Why?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her suggestively. "Did you suddenly change your mind about…" I don't get to finish as she throws her wet shirt at me. I catch it right before it hits my face.
"Don't even try to finish that," she points her finger at me, trying to seem threatening.
Yes, show me those little claws.
"Enzo. Enzo Agosti." I stand up and do a small bow. "At your service."
Allegra snorts, a little frown marring her forehead.
"Is that you remembering to be a gentleman?"
"I'm never not a gentleman," I retort. How dare she impugn my gentlemanly behavior when I'm always nothing short of gracious!
She narrows her eyes at me. "So gentlemen cut women's clothes with a switchblade nowadays?" She pauses, then adds, "My bad—children, not women." I can spot the corner of her mouth pulling up slightly. The minx thinks she's got me.
Not this time.
"What can I say?" I shrug, looking entirely innocent. "I'm a gentleman in the streets and a beast in the sheets." I wink at her, but she just rolls her eyes, the joke missing its mark.
"More like a psycho with a knife in the sheets," she says, deadpan, and I realize she does not know what sheets stands for.
I laugh, even more so when her nose scrunches up in confusion.
When was the last time I laughed like this?
"Don't worry," she finally speaks, a determined look on her face. "I promise to give as good as I get," she asserts confidently.
"Really? What if I like it hard?" I parry, enjoying her cluelessness about what we're actually discussing.
"I can give it to you harder." She raises her chin a notch, and I once again note that quiet pride of hers… no, it's more than that. It's dignity, and she carries it like a champ.
"I see," I reply solemnly. "I also enjoy having an audience." I throw that out there, curious to see what she'll counter it with.
"Of course," she readily agrees. "An audience is necessary to witness you lose," she once again confirms that she's talking about something else entirely.
My poker face threatens to break, laughter bubbling up inside me.
"And you will lose," she continues, and I can see she's becoming more comfortable with me. Good.
"Will I? I never lose, little tigress. Never." I half-lie because I'm strong enough to admit I've already lost to her—not to her face, of course.
"You will next time. You won't take me by surprise again." She folds her hands across her chest, the picture of indignation.
"Oh no, next time you'll know when I come."
A smile plays at her lips. "Maybe next time I'll come first."
The moment I hear her words, a groan escapes me. Am I taking this too far? It's certainly too enjoyable to end now.
"Oh, you will, little tigress. You'll definitely come first." My voice breaks as I reply, and I can no longer contain my amusement.
"Why do I get the feeling you're talking about something else?" She stands up, hands on her hips, her eyes shooting daggers at me. "You're mocking me, aren't you?"
"Of course not," I clear my throat, schooling my features. "I was talking about fighting." I lie.
"Weird," she adds thoughtfully. "I was sure we were talking about coitus. Since, you know, you seemed terribly obsessed with it."
My face drops. My mouth hangs open in shock. Not because she just called sex coitus, even though that is funny in itself, but because I've been played.
Again.
"How…" I trail off, and her smile grows wider. She struts to the table, gloating from head to toe. She picks up the book she'd had with her earlier and throws it at me.
"Very educational. You might learn a thing or two." She has the gall to wink at me, and I'm just staring at her, dumbfounded.
Looking down, I see the naked guy on the cover peering back, his smug expression quietly making fun of me.
Enzo Agosti. International art trafficker. Feared mafioso.
Ended by a little girl.
Tired of watching her huddled in a corner and staring out the window—thereby ignoring me—I call out to her.
"I'll drop you off at the port, and you can take the next ferry back to Sicily." She turns her head slightly to look at me and gives me a curt nod.
Where is the little tigress from before? Somehow, my conscience feels the need to suddenly appear as I continue.
"It shouldn't be too hard. I'll leave you some money for a ticket. The ferries run pretty regularly."
She nods again, her expression bored.
"Thank you," she says, then turns her head to look out the window again.
For a second, I'm pissed at her blatantly ignoring me, but then I worry that something might be wrong.
I stand up, and in two strides, I'm next to her. I lift my arm and touch her forehead with the back of my hand, checking her temperature.
She flinches and moves back, the gesture taking her by surprise. She raises her eyes to look at me, her brows furrowing in confusion.
"No one said you could touch me," she says through gritted teeth, her voice a mix of annoyance and defiance.
"Are you ill?" I rotate my hand to grab her wrist, bringing her closer so I can feel the temperature of her skin.
"Let go of me," she tries to push me off, but I'm not deterred. Gliding my hand across her forehead, I note she doesn't have a fever.
"Easy, little savage. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't die on me."
She fixes her eyes on me, and I'm shocked at the amount of disdain I see in them. It seems my little tigress hasn't forgiven me for manhandling her—not that I've apologized for it.