Chapter Nine
LOLA
I'm not going to bang on the door. I'm not.
Even though a part of me wants to.
Hell no.
Enzo has given me everything I need—space, TV, there are even books—and Lyndall dragged in her Xbox, which I used this morning to take out all my aggression on zombies.
I get to eat, to rest, I have a phone...that, sure, has been smuggled in, but I know he knows about it...
I have everything, including snacks and meals that he either leaves just inside my door or Lyndall comes in with.
It's only been a handful of days.
It seems long.
Like weeks.
Because there's one thing missing, one thing I desperately need.
Freedom.
I pick at the fruit and yogurt left inside the suite, and I'm aware this is almost like my own apartment in Enzo's place.
Except, this is my gilded cage, and I can't fly away.
I've spent days inside before Dad died. At school, when I was studying hard for exams, and even when I moved into my hole-in-the-wall apartment, while I was putting everything together to apply for jobs, there would be times I hadn't stepped outside for days.
But not being able to and not wanting to are two very different things.
If I could, chances are I'd be perfectly okay with being closed in here, enjoying everything I have access to. But since the outdoors are forbidden to me, I seem to crave them.
I peer out the window.
The shutters are down and seem to be locked into place. It could be me, but I can't make them move.
Thinking about it, it could be a form of punishment from Enzo.
Except...he doesn't seem to be punishing me. Other than locking me up.
I flop on the bed, rolling onto my back, and my stomach flutters.
Is it punishment—Enzo coming in without an invite or just more stalker behavior?
I go with stalker.
The kind of stalking I'm loath to admit I like.
The other night, he came in, and I pretended to be asleep, my body throbbing, wetness growing between my legs, and all I wanted was...
Him.
I wanted him.
Inside me.
But he fed into the kink in me he unlocked.
He somehow knew to pretend to be Alex.
I called him that, and he took it, turning it into what my body craved.
His hands on me. His tongue and fingers an invasion. Another shiver of fluttering inside spreads.
He didn't have a blindfold, so he used the shirt I'd worn, and I knew...knew he was going to kiss me, so I pulled it over my mouth.
I think I knew because he touched me with gentle fingers, and that kind of gentle mouth-to-mouth isn't something I'm ready for.
I'm too mad.
Too hurt.
Betrayed.
Violated.
But I'm also too twisted to turn him down. Send him away.
Now, if he'd pushed his cock at my mouth, I'd have opened wide and sucked him in, licked him all over, and taken him as deep as I could.
Some might call that punishment, but I'd call it self-preservation.
I want his cock.
There's a hunger that spreads through me for the taste of him, how he stretches my lips and hits the back of my throat. How he stretches my pussy or ass open for his delicious invasion.
I want that hunger.
I want to feed it.
I want all of it.
Except the kissing.
There's too much fury moving through me for that.
A kiss is romantic, intimate in a way that even his going down on me or me blowing him can't touch.
The commands not to move, to lay there with my head covered...it takes my part in it away. He's got the power. Not me. Whatever he makes me do isn't my fault.
And...
I swallow.
I like it.
"You're all over the place, Lola. You hate him, almost love him, want him, hate him again, all in the space of minutes. Fuck. He's done a number on you. Made you completely insane."
That's an understatement.
I cried at a stupid big dog needing to be carried by his owner because a little kitten scared him on TikTok.
Suddenly, I sit up.
I'm never emotional like that.
I'll laugh at shit, but...
Wait. What day is it?
I should have had my period about a week or so after I first had sex with Enzo.
When was the last time I had my period?
Shit.
I want to blame the fact that I'm late on all the wild rollercoaster rides in my life. So much happening has pushed it off, upset my cycle.
But nothing has ever done that. Nothing.
You could set a damn clock to my period.
"It's stress..."
But stress didn't start until later. I should have had my period way before then. In fact, I was feeling pretty damn good about both Alex and Enzo. I wasn't even thinking they were the same person and Enzo was a stalker.
I...
Oh. Boy.
Lyndall knocks on the door. It has to be her, because her brother certainly never does, and it's not like traffic comes through here like it's Grand Central Station or anything.
"Hey, I bought you... Oh."
She walks down the short hall to the bedroom and puts down the bag of McDonald's.
"I see you've got some kind of gross food."
I muster a smile. "I like yogurt and berries, actually."
"Are you sure? It might make you sick."
She dives in and pulls out some kind of breakfast sandwich.
It smells pretty good, actually, but my stomach also turns at the thought of it. Because it smells greasy, rich, and the kind of thing guaranteed to sit heavy.
She takes a huge bite. "Deelish... Uh, what's up with you?"
I don't want to tell her the thoughts in my head. "I don't like being a prisoner."
"You're not a prisoner."
"What do you call this?"
She looks around and jumps on the bed next to me. "Luxury."
"Says the girl who grew up with luxury."
"So did you." She points her foot at me. "And he's protecting you. He's not that bad. Actually, my brother is pretty great."
I keep my thoughts on that to myself. They got us into trouble last time. And now I might be—
"He's punishing me."
"No, he isn't."
I eat a berry. "Locking me up is punishment."
"Yeah. But I'm not allowed out alone. That's real punishment."
"How?"
"Have you seen the goons?" She shudders. "They are for my 'safety'." She air quotes that.
"You can leave, though. I can't even leave this room..."
"And go where? Nowhere good. School starts soon, and guess who has to learn?" She finishes her food and then pulls out some hash browns.
Panic hits me. "You're going back to boarding school?"
She sighs. "Worse. Much worse."
"What's worse?"
"Tutors." She shudders. "They're going to be punishment. They're school sanctioned."
"No violin?"
She grins. "Lots of violin. That's the one saving grace." Then she peers at me. "Are you okay? You look—"
I burst into tears, to my horror and to hers. I can't find the off switch and manage to blurt out between the fits of tears, "P-pregnant?"
"Whoa." Lyndall rears back and then suddenly grabs me, pulling me close. "Lola. Did you just say the P word?"
"No." I sniff and wipe my face on the quilt, but she smacks it from my hand.
"OMG, you totally did." She shoves her hand to my stomach. "I don't feel a baby."
I scramble away, breasts tender. Or they seem tender as I think about them.
Shit. Am I pregnant?
"You don't just feel a baby."
"They kick."
"Did you even do sex ed at school?"
She rolls her eyes. "Sure. But I don't know how long you've been boning my brother, which is gag, by the way. Gross."
She stares at me for a few seconds. "It's his, isn't it?"
"Yes! No. I mean, I don't even know if I am. I just...emotional. I'm late, but I've been through a lot, and—"
"I was kidnapped, thrown around, threatened, and then locked up when he found out who I am. If anyone's been through a lot, it's me."
"It's not a competition."
"I know that. I just mean..." She blows out a breath. "I don't think it's just stress. Shit, we need to find out."
"You're fifteen. You can't go and ask for a test from Enzo."
Her eyes go big and round. "Hell no. I just...I can get a delivery. There's a pharmacy near the station that delivers. McDonald's delivers, so..."
Lyndall slides close and pulls me into her arms and hugs me tight.
"Oh God," I moan.
She lets me go. "I know... Are you sure?"
"No, I don't know a thing. Just I'm like clockwork."
Then Lyndall smacks her head. "Which is why you want a pregnancy test."
"That's your idea."
"And a brilliant one."
"Look, don't...don't say anything to Enzo."
She frowns. "How am I going to get that delivered without him saying anything?"
"I'll take care of it all. It's just cells, not a baby."
"I know that." And she looks a little crestfallen, like she was already playing dress-up with a baby.
It makes me want to curl into a ball. It makes me want to throw up.
"And whatever you choose is your choice. But..." She bites her lip. "But don't cut me out of your life if you keep it. Don't do it even if you don't."
"I'd never do that, Lyndall. And I never said I'd get rid of it... I don't even know if I'm pregnant. You can't tell Enzo."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Because if he thinks for a moment that I'm pregnant, and if I am and he finds out, then he'll never let me go.
It won't be a choice for me. Even if I wanted to be with him, he'd steal the choice, which would make it no choice at all.
And I don't even know if I'm pregnant.
I let out a long breath.
Lyndall has another phone in her hand, and she's typing into it. "I'm making a list. I figure if it's buried in among a lot of other stuff, including girl stuff, he won't look or even ask. And I'll get us snacks."
"Snacks...?"
My head spins a little.
She's a lot like Enzo. In some ways, it's scary, like when she takes over things. This is pure Enzo energy.
So, why doesn't it bother me?
"We need a lot of snacks. Chocolate. Maybe a pizza."
"Do pharmacies sell pizzas?"
"No. But there's a kickass pizza place next to the pharmacy... Maybe for an extra big tip, the delivery guy can stop at the pharmacy and bring that stuff, too."
"Oh, God. This is real," I whisper.
"Nonsense. We don't know, so it isn't. We'll worry when we find out, okay?"
"Okay."
She presses a button. "Done. We'll know soon... Zombies?"
"Zombies."
I'm woken from a nap I didn't know I needed by shouting.
"Did you buy out a fucking pharmacy?" Enzo.
And I shiver at the sound of his voice.
"No," his sister says.
"What's this?"
She shouts, "A moon cup to collect blood. You guys never have to deal with what we deal with. You shove it in—"
"Enough," he thunders, sounding horrified. "And pizza?"
"Yes!"
"You had McDonald's!"
"And now I need to feed your prisoner."
"Ouch," I whisper.
There's a brief moment of silence.
Then his voice comes out gruff. "She's not my fucking prisoner. I'm protecting her."
"Yeah, yeah. Can I take this upstairs with me or not?" she asks at the top of her lungs.
"Go!" he yells.
A few minutes later, she knocks and bursts in, hurrying down the small hall.
She tosses the pizza on the coffee table and upends two bags of products.
Lyndall pounces on a brown paper-bagged box. "Here."
"What...?"
"I asked them to put the test in brown paper. Go."
In the bathroom, I do what I'm asked. Following the instructions, I pee on the stick.
I flush, wash my hands, and pace.
Then I pick it up.
I look at the little visor thingy where the results are, then I look at the box to see what they mean.
Then I look again. Back and forth between the box and the test.
For a moment, I can't breathe.
Honestly, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Because reality is staring me right in the face.