25. Kennedy
I love you, too.
My steps grind to a halt as I digest Enzo’s words. Adding insult to injury, he’s not just returning me. He’s also head over heels in love with another woman—a drop-dead gorgeous stunner, by the way—which only rubs salt in a big, gaping wound.
And apparently, Enzo’s way of wooing his beloved involves parading my dog around like a muppet. It would actually be ridiculously adorable if it didn’t make me want to projectile vomit all over his plush private jet.
The man just spent the better part of three hours pleasuring me to the point of carpel tunnel, and now he loves her? What am I? His fluffer?
Ugh. Never mind that he’s about to return me to Andre, and by extension, Rocco.
Though that could explain why he didn’t actually seal the deal? Because fucking me with his dick is off-limits?
I’d rather die than let Rocco touch me again.
I take a deep, thoughtful breath. Admittedly, going head-to-head with a dangerous thug isn’t exactly smart. Especially considering I can’t exactly catch the next bus home.
Not that I give a damn about what happens to me. My sole focus is Riley. Stay calm.
I struggle to keep my fists at bay, the expensive fabric of his smoking jacket bearing the brunt of my clenched hands. Because when my mind buckles beneath the crushing weight of emotional overload, restraint isn’t an option.
Like my father used to say, “Hell hath no fury like a Scottish lass scorned.”
But before I unleash raw rage all over his D’Angelo ass, the beautiful blonde on FaceTime catches sight of me. “Who’s that?” she asks, her blue eyes wide.
Enzo whirls around, with the woman on the phone in one hand and Truffles in the other.
I bat my eyes and wonder just how he’ll explain me away—the half-naked mistress to his unsuspecting love. “Yes, Enzo, who am I?”
Instantly, Enzo flashes an unexpected grin, my dog looks oblivious, and the woman on the screen appears to be ecstatic. Sheesh, I guess someone’s expecting a hefty settlement in their divorce proceedings.
His gaze pierces mine. “I’ll call you back,” he says to the woman. With a decisive click, he silences her protests. As he drops Truffles onto the chair and strides into my personal space, his gaze intensifying. “You’re up.”
“And you’re an asshole.”
A smirk dances across his lips, revealing a dimple. “Glad you finally got the memo.”
I keep my arms tightly crossed against my chest. First, he lies about settling Jimmy’s debt, and now he’s spinning even more lies to whoever the hell that was—wife, girlfriend, favorite mistress. Ugh. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Instead, I demand, “Take me home.”
His smirk morphs into a grin. “No.”
This man makes me thermonuclear.
I push into his space, jabbing a finger right into his solid chest, emphasizing every word. “I said Take. Me. Home. Now!”
He settles into a seat, thoroughly amused. “And I said no.” My treacherous dog hops onto his lap.
I’m about to really lay into him when the flight attendant interrupts with that sickly sweet voice of hers. “Champagne?”
“No,” I bark.
“Yes, thank you.” Enzo accepts the glass, then pets Truffles. The idiot looks every bit of an evil villain with his pampered pet. “Ms. Luciano needs one,” Enzo adds smugly.
“He’s right, Ms. Luciano,” the flight attendant says. I’m two seconds from giving both of them two big, fat pieces of my mind when she adds, “It’s our last service before we land.”
Land?
Just then, the plane jerks roughly, sending my heart thumping as I scramble to my seat. The flight attendant clicks the seatbelt in as if I’m a toddler.
“Mullvain,” I breathe, tightening my belt until I can’t feel my legs.
“Sorry?” she asks.
“My name. It’s not Luciano.” My death glare turns to Enzo. “It’s Mullvain.”
“Of course. Ms. Mullvain,” she repeats softly with a helpless smile.
I shouldn’t take it out on her. It’s not her fault she works for a total tool. One who’s apparently treating me to the lap of luxury just before dumping me out like yesterday’s trash, complete with all the dignity of blue airline waste.
With a small chuckle, Enzo clears his throat. “Mullvain,” he utters, shaking his head to himself, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or amused.
I know he’s dangerous, but in this moment, I don’t care. When he smirks, I snap. “Something funny?”
Ignoring my question, he continues with deliberate, unhurried movements, placing Truffles gently on the floor.
I watch in awe as my dog seamlessly returns to his seat, curling up on it like he was born to live this life.
Beside him is Savannah, cocooned under a blanket, as if she’s been there the whole damn time, blissfully asleep.
I guess we’ll just pretend she didn’t just reveal that I’m somehow the key to bringing down the D’Angelos.
Enzo then hands me the glass I just refused. “It’s either you enjoy some champagne and we talk, or I teach you a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
“Yes, Bella. A lesson. On what happens when you direct all that blazing hot anger at me.”
There’s a certain spark in his eyes. A challenge. It’s enough of a warning, I know I should back down.
Stupidly, I don’t. “Is that before or after another man fucks me?”
He pauses, mid-drink.
His expression turns contemplative, as if weighing a decision. The tension between us is palpable, stretched so thin and tight that I know I’m forcing his hand.
Keep me or cut me loose—it’s his family or me.
Then, his eyes land on mine, and his hand flies forward and grabs my hair so swiftly, I gasp.
I can’t resist him. Not that I’m trying...
Somehow, the black-and-blue stain across his cheek only intensifies the heat behind his eyes, accentuating his thick brows and full lips. Making him both dangerous and gorgeous at once—even when he’s pissed.
“Enzo,” I whimper.
“That’s right, Bella. It’s my name you’ll speak in vain—and in pleasure. If another man touches you, he loses a limb. If he fucks you, he loses his life. And if you don’t know by now, that you are owned—by me—by the end of this week, you will.”
No more words. No more talk. His lips crash on mine with such force—such possession—there’s no way to fight it.
I’m backed into a corner, with nothing but his dominance and my determination to survive him for the next week.
Seven days where Enzo owns me. Controls me. Does whatever the hell he wants to me.
And seven days where I give in.
I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for Riley.
I have one week to find a way to break free. For me and my sister to actually escape the reach of the D’Angelo’s.
Forever.