Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Chloe
By the time I got back to the villa, the sky was already turning dark.
The bodyguard dropped me off at the door but didn't leave.
He leaned against the outer wall, just standing there.
Clearly, Enzo had given him more than one task.
I didn't have the energy to care. I shut the door behind me, didn't even bother changing out of that dark coat, and sank onto the living room sofa. My hand rested on my belly, unmoving.
Outside the window, the sky shifted from gray to black, bit by bit. From the kitchen came the faint sounds of Anna prepping dinner, but I couldn't even muster the strength to look up. I had no idea how she saw me. She was Valentina's person—had she been laughing at me this whole time?
Yeah, I knew exactly how ridiculous I was.
"Miss Bennett." Anna set a plate of pasta on the coffee table, steam curling up in the dim light. "Dinner's ready."
I heard her, but I didn't move.
She stood there beside me, not walking away like usual. When I stayed put, she went quiet for a moment, then lowered her voice.
"Your baby needs you to eat."
I glanced down at my belly. Yeah, I couldn't fall apart. I still had a child.
So I reached for the fork.
I couldn't remember how the pasta tasted. I just mechanically twirled the noodles, shoved them in my mouth, chewed without flavor, and forced them down. Twirl, chew, swallow. Like some emotionless machine running a program.
Anna watched me eat half the plate, then quietly took the rest away.
She paused at the door.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft.
I looked up at Anna. Her face was hard to make out in the dim light, but I saw her lips move, like she wanted to say more. In the end, she said nothing, just turned and left.
I kept sitting there in the dark.
I didn't want to remember, but my mind replayed it frame by frame. Enzo standing at the altar, sliding the ring onto Valentina's finger. Then outside the church, ripping me apart with the nastiest words right in front of everyone.
After that, me facing that humiliation with no way out, dropping to my knees, begging him to spare Liam. But he just looked down at me arrogantly, letting me cry at his feet.
I curled into the corner of the sofa, legs tucked up, chin on my knees. My belly was too big now—this position hurt—but I needed to shrink myself small. As small as possible.
Small enough to vanish from the world.
Enzo showed up the next afternoon.
I heard the front door unlock, then his shoes on the marble floor.
Enzo's footsteps were distinct—heavy, steady, rhythmic.
If someone had told me before that you could recognize people's steps, I'd have called it bullshit.
But now, after all those nights waiting in the dark, I'd learned to pick out his.
He walked into the living room, carrying two bags. One was Tiffany's blue paper bag, the other from some high-end baby brand.
He set them on the coffee table and looked at me.
"Eaten?" He acted like I'd never shown up at his wedding.
"Yeah." My tone was flat as dead water.
Enzo unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the sofa across from me. His hair was messy, clothes not as pristine as usual, not like a fashion mag spread. Maybe he'd just rolled out of his new wife's bed.
"For the kid." He jerked his chin at the bags on the table.
I glanced at those expensive, branded paper bags. No reaction.
"And this." Enzo pulled a deep blue velvet box from the Tiffany bag. "For you. A set of the latest diamond jewelry. The store manager swore it's the best style this year."
I didn't even look up, just flipped a page in the pregnancy magazine on my lap.
Enzo wasn't used to groveling like this. His patience ran out fast. He sucked in a deep breath, tossed the priceless jewelry box onto the table, then strode over to my sofa. This arrogant bastard did something rare—he dropped to one knee in front of me.
"You mentioned last Tuesday you didn't like the wall color in the second-floor nursery.
" His voice softened, a hint of pleading.
"I had Drew contact the top Italian designer.
We can switch the wallpaper to that warm yellow you wanted.
The wooden cribs and toys you picked are all air-shipped from Europe.
If it's not right, we can have the designer redo it. "
I kept staring at the colorful pics in the magazine, not saying a word.
I heard him sigh. Then he took my hand from my knee, thumb gently rubbing my skin.
"Or we could go out. You've gotta be stir-crazy, baby.
" He kept coaxing, trying to crack the silence.
"You always wanted that French spot in Manhattan.
I booked the whole place. Tomorrow night, I'll ditch all the family meetings, just take you for that dessert you love.
Stay out as long as you want, whatever makes you happy. "
I yanked my hand free, staying ice cold.
How the hell could I pretend this man didn't have a wife? Pretend he hadn't lied to me, threatened me, and nearly hurt my friend?
Then act all happy, like nothing happened, and hit some bullshit French restaurant with him.
Enzo's movement froze mid-air. What little patience he had? Gone. His jaw tightened dangerously.
"Chloe." Impatience seeped into his voice, barely held back. "How long you gonna keep this up?"
I met his stormy face with a calm stare.
"Keep what up? I came back, like we agreed."
"You know damn well what I mean." He stood, grinding his teeth. His tall frame loomed over me, oppressive as hell.
"I really don't." I slammed the magazine shut on my lap, staring right into his furious eyes without flinching. "Spell it out for me, clear as day."
Enzo went silent for a beat. Then he stood tall, looking down at me from that angle that made me shrink back instinctively. He snatched the magazine from my hands and chucked it to the floor.
"Don't play games with me." His voice dropped low. "What do you want? Say it."
He bent down, one hand bracing on the armchair back, the other reaching for my face. Fingers touched my chin, tilting it up gently.
"I know you're pissed at me." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "But Chloe, you're mine. Only mine."
I almost laughed in his face. After all the lies, betrayal, and threats, his first move was to claim ownership?
"Do what you want." I held his gaze, my voice so calm it felt alien. "You said it yourself—I'm stuck here till you're done with me. So what's the holdup? Come on."
With that, I shrugged off the sweater draped over me.
Enzo's hand froze. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Isn't this what you want?" I stared him down, every word deliberate. "You said everything I have is yours, including my body. Use it whenever you feel like it."
The room went dead quiet for a long stretch. Enzo sighed.
My voice turned vicious. "Sorry, forgot yesterday was your wedding night. Maybe you don't need my services right now."
His hand gripped the chair back, knuckles white. Jaw clenched, veins throbbing at his temples.
"Then you can go." I waited, saw he wasn't moving, and started buttoning up. "Your new wife's probably waiting for you at home."
Enzo didn't move an inch. His eyes darkened, the storm brewing even deeper inside them.
I straightened my clothes and started to get up, but before I could move, his hand shot out like lightning. His fingers clamped around my wrist like a steel vise, and he yanked me upright so hard that I stumbled straight into his chest.
"You're not going anywhere," he growled, his voice rough with barely contained rage. His patience had completely snapped. In one swift motion, he scooped me up and strode toward the bedroom.
I gasped, pushing against his shoulders, but he ignored me completely and kicked the door open with his foot.
Enzo threw me roughly onto the bed, his tall frame looming over me. "I've given you enough patience, Chloe. What the hell else do you want from me?!"
He braced his hands on either side of my body, chest heaving with fury, dark fire of jealousy and frustration burning in his eyes.
"How long are you going to keep doing this to me?
I already told you—the marriage to Valentina is nothing but a forced family alliance.
There's no feeling between us at all! You know that, yet you still use this cold attitude to piss me off? "
He gripped my chin, leaning in with gritted teeth, his voice dripping with vicious intent. "But you? You know exactly what kind of dirty thoughts that Liam has about you, and you still let him put his hands on you?!"
"So what?" I glared back at him without flinching, my eyes stinging. "At least he treats me like a real person, not some married whore he has to keep hidden away in the shadows!"
That sentence lit the fuse.
"Good. Very good." He laughed through his anger, hooking his fingers into the collar of my shirt and ripping it open with one brutal tug.
The fabric tore with a loud rip, buttons flying everywhere.
The material gave way like paper, exposing my bra and the curve of my heaving breasts.
I sucked in a sharp breath. Beneath the shock, a hated wave of heat stirred deep inside me.
"You think you can provoke me with another man?" Before I could react, he grabbed the waistband of my pants and yanked them down roughly, leaving me in nothing but my panties. His hands were everywhere—rough, possessive, demanding. "Looks like I need to remind you exactly who you belong to."
One palm slid up my thigh, fingers digging possessively into my flesh, while the other pinned my shoulder down hard. "Whether you like it or not, this body is mine. It always has been. Every inch of your skin belongs to me, and I'll fuck it whenever the hell I want."
His words hit me like a slap, laced with fury, but his touch burned like fire. He tore my bra open and roughly kneaded one breast, his thumb brutally flicking the nipple until it hardened under his assault.