Chapter 37
Piper
T he fluorescent lights of Arlington Diagno stic buzz above me like static electricity, making my skin prickle. Dr. Voss’ cool fingers press against my wrist, counting my pulse beats while her eyes track the second hand on her watch.
Enzo stands in the corner, a dark sentinel with crossed arms and watchful eyes that haven’t left me since Ben slipped something into my drink seven days ago.
“Blood pressure is normal,” Dr. Voss says, unwrapping the cuff from my arm. Her voice is clinical, detached, but there’s something else there—a hint of satisfaction. “Your heart rate is steady. And the bloodwork from yesterday looks good, too.”
I sit very still on the paper-covered exam table, the crinkle underneath me sounding too loud in the sterile room. My fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt. “So I’m okay?”
Dr. Voss’ light brown eyes assess me, not unkindly. “The drug has fully cleared your system. No signs of any lasting effects.” She tucks her stethoscope around her neck. “You’re recovering well, but I still recommend taking it easy for another week.”
“Define taking it easy,” I scoff, and Enzo’s eyes narrow from his corner position. I feel his gaze like a physical touch. “Can I go back to Georgetown?”
Whether she says yes or no, there’s no fucking way I’m staying trapped inside another week. Sure, I’ve been able to study remotely, and even finish a paper despite Enzo’s constant hovering. But I still need to attend lectures. I want my fucking life back.
Dr. Voss glances at Enzo before answering, a fraction of a second that speaks volumes about who signs her checks. My jaw tightens. I hate being discussed as if I’m not in the room—even if it’s via silent communication.
“ Classes should be fine,” she concedes with a reluctant nod. “But pace yourself. No all-nighters, no excessive stress if possible.”
Well, that’s just not possible. But instead of saying that out loud, I ask the next question on my mind.
“And coffee?” Despite trying not to sound desperate for a fix, that’s exactly how it comes out.
A week without caffeine has been its own special kind of torture, and I honestly don’t think I can take another day.
The corner of her mouth quirks up in what almost resembles a smile. “Two cups a day wouldn’t kill you.”
“Four,” I bargain, and this time her eyes definitely crinkle.
“Fine, three. But not after 4 p.m., and nothing extra-strong.” She makes a note in my chart. “And water. Lots of it.”
“I can handle that.” Relief floods through me, not just for the coffee, but for the gradual return to normalcy it represents. I slide off the table, my legs steadier than they’ve been in days.
Dr. Voss packs up her tools with efficient movements. “Any lingering symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Nausea? Headaches?”
“She seems extra tired,” Enzo replies, making me snap my gaze to him. “Is that normal?”
“Hey,” I protest. “I can speak for myself.”
Voss laughs softly. “Go ahead, Piper.”
Reluctantly, I explain, “He’s right. I do seem more tired. But I just think that’s because I’ve been cooped up inside. I need to be able to start living again.”
“That’s very plausible, and I do recommend you go back to your normal routine. I’m just asking that you do it slowly.” She hands me a card with her number. “Call immediately if anything changes. I mean it.”
Enzo pushes away from the wall, the movement fluid and controlled. “Thank you, Dr. Voss.”
It’s a dismissal. She nods, accepting it, and leaves us alone in the exam room. The door closes with a soft click.
“Ready to go home?” he asks, and the way he says home—like it’s ours, not just mine—sends a strange thrill through me that I’m not ready to examine too closely.
I know he sees it as our place since he moved in, but every time he says it, I hate the thought less. Instead of telling him that, I just say, “Yes,” and let him guide me out with his hand at the small of my back.
In the car, as the city slides past the tinted windows, I pull out my phone and text Lena.
Me: Got cleared by the doctor. Not quite 100% but getting there. Miss you.
Her response comes almost immediately.
Lee: OMG FINALLY!! I miss you too, Pipes. Can I come over? I promise to bring chocolate.
My fingers hover over the screen. I glance at Enzo, whose eyes are fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh in that proprietary way that makes me both irritated and warm.
Me: Yes, please. In a few hours?
When she confirms, I take a deep breath and turn my head to Enzo. “Lena wants to come over.”
His hand tightens on my leg, just slightly, his thumb pressing into the soft part of my inner thigh. “No.”
“I wasn’t asking,” I say, my voice steady. “I’m telling you that my best friend is coming over.”
His jaw works, a barely perceptible movement. “She didn’t look after you at Static. You know I don’t trust her.” He all but growls out that last part.
“She’s not my keeper,” I snap, anger flaring bright and sudden. “What happened wasn’t her fault.”
“She left you alone.”
“It’s called partying,” I point out. “She wasn’t there to babysit me.”
This isn’t the first time we’re discussing Lena and that night at Static.
But it’s going to be the last one. I’m done with the grudge he’s holding against my bestie.
What happened wasn’t her fault, and there’s no part of me that blames her or thinks she’s responsible in any way, shape, or motherfucking form.
If anything, I’m to blame. The drinks Ben gave me tasted off, but I still drank them. That’s on me, and I’m owning that stupidity. Which is exactly what it was; stupid. I was acting like I had something to prove rather than using my common sense.
I cross my arms over my chest. “If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Or Ben.” When Enzo doesn’t react, I let out an exasperated huff. “And if that’s not enough for you, blame your HR department for hiring him as an intern, since that’s how I met him.”
Enzo abruptly pulls hard at the steering wheel, ignoring the horns from behind us as he swerves across two lanes and parks in the emergency lane.
Before I can speak, his fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing hard enough to steal my next breath. Which is exactly hard enough to make my thighs clench, my clit throb, and my nipples harden.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Toy,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. “Not only have I fired everyone who approved Ben as an intern in our company. I’ve made sure he was expelled from Georgetown, and his family has lost everything. Every-fucking-thing.”
When I realize his ruthlessness makes something inside me melt, not re coil, I know I’m not the same person I used to be before Ben drugged me.
Bringing my hand up, I slap the one that’s still squeezing my throat, but he doesn’t budge.
Not even when I dig my nails in, not stopping when I feel blood pebbling.
“Let go,” I wheeze. He doesn’t.
I do the only thing I can think of; I reach for his collar and pull him closer to me. Luckily, he comes willingly, and as soon as I feel his breath against my lips, he slackens his grip on my throat.
“You’re crazy,” I gasp just before I fuse my lips to his. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the ends while I try to tell him how I feel with the kiss.
He kisses me back with bruising force, devouring the air from my lungs, the fight from my body. It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s messy and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, like we’re trying to consume each other from the inside out.
I moan into him, high and helpless, clutching at his shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring me to this moment. His hands are everywhere—cradling the back of my skull, squeezing my hips.
All I can think about is all the things he’s done for me, and the way he said our company , like my life has been woven into his so tightly there’s no pulling free now. The realization that there’s no going back isn’t what sets me on fire. No, it’s knowing that I don’t want to.
When he pulls back just enough to breathe, our foreheads press together. His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp prickle, his voice a ragged whisper against my swollen mouth.
“Is this your way of telling me that you’re done fighting me, Toy?”
A sly smile spreads across my lips as I shake my head. “Never,” I promise.
With a chuckle, he presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then he smoothly pulls back into traffic and drives us home.
I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever stop fighting him because, no matter how pointless it is, it makes me feel alive. When it comes to Enzo, I’m still learning, and maybe I’ll never stop learning.
When we’re almost home, I turn to him again. “Lena’s coming over,” I state. “I need to see her.”
Something in his expression shifts, almost imperceptibly. “Fine.”
“Really?”
“My men will still be watching,” he says as we pull up. “Doesn’t matter if I’m there or not. You’re never alone.”
“Thank you,” I say, and mean it.
He puts the car in park and turns to face me fully, his blue eyes unreadable. “Don’t thank me for giving you what you want. I’d give you the moon if you asked for it, Toy. But I don’t have to like it.”
And then his mouth is on mine, not asking but taking, his hand sliding up to cup my face. I sink into the kiss, my body responding before my mind can catch up, heat blooming under my skin like a fever. When he pulls away, his thumb traces my lower lip.
“Promise me you’re not going anywhere,” he says, his tone making it clear it’s not up for discussion. “And I’ll be watching through the cameras in our apartment—”
“Wait… what the fuck, Enzo? You have cameras in there?” I demand, pointing at the building in front of us. “When the hell—”
“That’s a story for another time,” he chuckles. “Just know I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
I nod, breathless, and step out of the car.