Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
ENZO
"For fuck's sake, Lola, if you don't want fucking scrambled eggs on toast—which is pretty fucking great and one of the few dishes I can make—then you can just say so.
You don't have to throw them at me." I glare at her as she stands on the other side of the room as though either I or the eggs offended her.
I pick up the broken plate, the toast, and the quite frankly once delicious eggs with actual lobster and real Irish butter to make them extra creamy, and then I pick the large fluffy curds off me.
Eggs this good take time and low heat.
What the fuck is she? A philistine?
An egg hater?
"I don't want your vile eggs."
That hurts.
"I'll have you know these are my specialty." I look at the coffee I made her, black with a touch of milk. Not really liking the idea of wearing that, I take a sip. "Do you want fruit?"
"No."
"Toast?"
She hesitates. "I'm fine."
"You'll eat."
"I won't do what you tell me."
I sigh. "That's not what you said the other—"
"I was momentarily insane."
Nodding, my gaze wanders to her bed and the red dress she's put on it, along with a soft peach silk bra and panties, and the black shoes that sit on the floor.
My libido does the fucking mamba.
My dick wants to come to that party, bad.
I need to get the fuck out. I'm pissed about her sex game of no kissing. Because I don't think it's part of the game. It is, in a way, but it's not how it started.
She wants to kiss me, but she seems to think...
Actually, who the fuck knows what the mad woman thinks.
I don't.
All I know is her not kissing me when she wants to do just that irks me.
"I think you're more than momentarily insane, but we'll leave that until later. I'll send one of the guards up with a selection of food. Try not to throw it at them. They're innocent." I turn, drinking her coffee. "I've sent you more work. Get to it, and I'll be back later."
And I stalk out.
Fuck, she's driving me insane. Not eating, needing to answer me back on everything, and yet still willing to go down on her knees and suck my cock and bend over the desk to play out my fantasies.
Her fantasies, too.
And I don't feel great about it all.
Sure, sex with Lola keeps getting better, and it's fucking fantastic to be doing all that. But the fact she still hates me, still fumes, is annoying as hell.
I'm still fuming, too.
And even though Lola had space and time, she still won't entertain the idea of forgiving me.
I know because every time I try to bring it up, she changes the subject.
And I'm not sure the only sex I want with her is in the confines of a game of Alex or secretary.
I think she's purposefully picking little fights right before she shuts me down when I try to talk. Or she fucks me.
And that was once. She fucked me once. I've gone down on her, and she's also blown me. Which isn't the point. The point is...
The point is she does something to distract me. She would rather have us on uneven ground where talk is hazardous than try to work it out and hopefully move on.
Yesterday, she was pissed and let me have it for being alone all day and for no one checking on her.
She wants space, so what's the problem? And what does she call someone bringing her lunch and breakfast?
But according to her, that doesn't count.
I fucking pointed out that I was busy and that Lyndall had lessons all day.
Fuck it. I have work to do now, too.
I go down and decide what food to send up to her. I don't know why she's not eating her breakfast, but it's annoying as fuck.
"Just...don't," I mutter as Cade looks up from the kitchen counter where he's getting both a coffee and an energy drink.
He narrows his eyes. "I didn't say anything. Is wearing eggs your new thing? Or..."
He picks up a plate with some leftover eggs on it, takes a sip of coffee, and then a forkful of eggs.
"Or?" I ask dangerously.
He points the fork at me and drains his cup. "Or is there trouble in paradise?"
I take the energy drink and open it, drinking some.
I scroll through some local restaurants on the app, place a bunch of orders, and give him the side-eye as I stomp off to let Con know the orders are coming and to take them upstairs and leave them just inside the room.
Then I come back down, and Cade's wearing his shit-eating grin. His phone is propped up so I can see his wife, Vi.
"Cade says you're in trouble with your girl?"
"It's being handled," I growl.
She smiles. "Like you did in Cancun?"
I point at her in her office clothes. "You weren't there. And we don't talk about Cancun."
Vi sniffs. "You two don't, but I do. Anyway—" Off camera, someone hands her a file, "—if you want advice, come to me, not Cade or Silas or even Zayne. Me."
She turns off the call.
"I hate you," I say to Cade and start to head down to the secure basement. "Now let's get to fucking work."
Lola glowers at me. "Yesterday, you brought me eggs."
"That you fucking threw at me."
"And then you sent up food. All day. Sent your sister to me for dinner—"
"To have dinner with you so you weren't alone."
It was more Lyndall's idea than mine. If anyone should be miffed, it's me. Lyndall likes to spend all her time with Lola, and that can hurt a man.
But I take it.
"I don't need babysitters sent to me. I need freedom."
"She's not a babysitter, Lola. Jesus. And you're not a prisoner. I'm keeping you safe."
"You know that's insane, right?"
Something snaps in my chest. "As insane as wanting the man she hates to fuck her?"
"I don't—" She stops and storms up to me. "Hate sex is at least something to do. I'll even do what I have to get you to visit me. That's how desperate I am."
Those words draw blood. "So you're desperate now? If you want to see me, ask."
"Would you even come?"
"I've had a lot of shit to do, and I'm not even sure you want me here. You just want me miserable."
"Oh?" She laughs and shakes her head. "I make you miserable?"
"Yes."
Lola shoves me. "Then let me go."
I don't move, the places her hands touched burning deep into me. "You're so fucking ungrateful."
Lola puts her hands on her hips. "Me? Me? Ungrateful? And what is it I'm meant to be grateful for? This grand prison?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
I don't move. I can't. If I do... who knows what I'll do?
"I never asked for your help. You're cray-cray, dude. You seem to have a screw loose when it comes to me."
"Don't I know it?" I mutter under my breath.
She shakes her head, her fury emanating from her in waves, and she's so fucking hot in all the right and wrong ways that I can barely contain myself.
"You just want to control my life, Enzo."
"Fuck. We talk in circles."
"No. We don't. Because you want to fuck or keep away."
"Of course, I want to fuck you. You drive me cray-cray," I say, mimicking her. "In that way. Against logic, I want to be buried balls deep in you so you come on my cock. But that isn't where we've got a problem, is it?"
Her cheeks go a dark red.
"No. You refuse to talk about feelings and talk this through. You want me but only on your terms. Surface shit you can handle. Because if we talk about feelings, you'll have to face yours. It's like sex without kissing."
Lola flinches as if I've struck a nerve.
As if?
I did strike it.
"What? Are you going to confess your love?"
"No—"
"Or am I just lurking about in your heart?"
I turn it on her. "And aren't I doing the same with you?"
"It's got nothing to do with it. Just let me the fuck go."
"Oh, man, I can't even get a step in front, can I?"
"I want you where I can see you. Are you spying on the room now?"
"Don't be a fool. You know I did that to protect you."
"I don't want that. I didn't ask for it. Let me go."
I let out a manic laugh. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"No, I'm not. Because it won't end. There'll always be something you think you need to save me from. And as far as I can tell, there are no limits to what you're willing to do."
"For fuck's sake. I know you're not stupid, Lola."
"I know that, too, and I know you're trying to ignore what I'm saying."
It's true. I am. I just can't fucking believe how ungrateful and blind she's being.
And I also, deep down inside, get where she's coming from.
She's right. I'm fucking crazy. I'm losing it over a girl, and I stalked her.
Worse, I inserted myself into her life as a wrong number who wormed his way into her, getting kinky with her.
Her hold over me is something I can't begin to explain apart from the fact that it starts with an O and ends with an N.
Because what I feel for her is obsession in its purest form, and I don't feel good about it.
I can't help the overwhelming need to fix everything wrong in her life.
Because shit, what's going to happen to her if I don't help?
There's no one else she can turn to.
I'm there for her whether she wants me or not.
"If I don't help you out, look out for you, who the fuck will?"
"No one. Because I want to look after myself. I'm smart. I thought I was doing it all on my own. If I fell, it was on me, if I got up, it was on me. The battles were mine. And you took it all. I don't even know if I can survive..."
The silent 'because of you' hangs there, lashing at me.
"You don't have to."
Fuck, I just don't want her in danger. I don't want her hurt. I know she can do it, but why not allow me to protect her?
She should be fucking grateful, not pissed off.
I take a breath, trying to keep my anger at bay as I manage to say calmly, "I'm sure you can. But I can help you. Why can't you let me do this?"
She doesn't answer.
"I'm doing it so you don't have to, Lola."
"But I want to. I want to take care of myself. And as I said, it's something I thought I was doing after Dad died. But I wasn't, was I? And you were taking care of me before that, too. Am I that incompetent?"
"You know you're not."
Her eyes flash. "Then fuck off and let me go."
The last restraint snaps as I stalk her, backing her against the wall.
I close my hand around her delicate throat. "Let you go?"