Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
ENZO
Cade
Nothing yet.
I stare at the text for the millionth time.
There's nothing there I didn't expect. Finding this asshole and where he's gone into deep cover is going to take time.
The security codes finally fell to us, but he was long gone. And Dad's got no idea where to.
No one's seen him in the network of spies Dad has, my uncle has, and the Syndicate has.
Me
Figured. We'll meet tomorrow and come up with a better hack for all his systems. There's got to be something.
Cade
Agreed. See you tomorrow.
Honestly, I'd be more surprised if the text was handing me a way into all his computer systems. I know there's a common denominator either with his newly upgraded alarm systems that all seem different or with his computer server.
He's got one. And if we get that, if we get where his emails and computer activity are coming from, we've got him.
It's tricky, but when we do it, finding him should be easy.
Of course, nothing can help me crack the code with the angry woman in my house.
Every time I try to broach it with her, Lola tells me she needs time.
I can hear her in the kitchen. She's not cooking, she's cleaning the already pristine place.
I have a cleaning person. And I make coffee in there, mostly. I've been known to make eggs there, too, on occasion, but those I ended up wearing.
I let her do it, the humming drifts up. It's some song I probably should know but don't.
And I itch to go down there. But she'll just smile like her mouth is full of nails and find an excuse to leave.
I haven't threatened to put her back in the suite, but she is so careful in how she talks to me about her anger that she seems to be waiting for that.
Well...at least she hasn't tried to run.
Fuck. I just don't know how to fix this.
And I fucking hate not being able to hack something.
Anger seems like something that should be hackable.
Flowers do the trick, usually. Not on Lola, though. She'll see right through that.
Sex does it, too. Except Lola won't see it as a way forward. She'll see it as a kink that's been scratched. An urge to be satiated.
Sex as I've treated sex in the past.
I don't fucking like it.
Lyndall pokes her head around the corner and knocks, coming in.
"Knocking only works if you're willing to go away if I don't answer."
"The door is open."
I sigh.
If Lyndall's going to move in with Dad and finish school after Dad gets over whatever hissy fit he's having about the dude he caught her with and her getting kidnapped, then maybe I need a different place.
Only my father could somehow find a way to blame the victim, but that's Dad for you.
As for a new place, there are nice penthouses or townhouses like the family one in Manhattan where Lola went—
Nope. Not going there.
But I can see separating home and my place of work instead of rolling them all into one. And we've been talking about strengthening our server...
I rub my eyes and look at my sister. "You knocked?"
"You noticed."
"Hard not to when A) I heard it, and B) we just had a conversation about it. So, what's up?"
"I want you to make up with Lola."
Amusement, dark and slightly resentful, slides through me, and I consider her. "We're not together, we weren't together, so there's no making up."
And I'm not the one who started the war.
That was Lola.
"Oh, sure. You'll bone someone but not fix things when I know you like her." Her eyes get laser-sharp on me. "All those pictures freaked her out. And she likes you."
My heart leaps. "She said that?"
She smirks. "It's obvious, like it's obvious you like her."
I scowl. "Yeah, but I've been trying to end her angry response that seems to be never-ending." I shake my head. "Why? What's she said?"
But Lyndall isn't a Marino for nothing. I don't care about her parentage, she's grown up soaked in the Marino ways. And she's looking at me with stubbornness, a little heartlessness, and a lot of sly.
"This and that."
I don't feel like this long, drawn-out game.
My body aches to hold Lola, and I want to fuck her stupid again. The kink and the straight-up sex like we had against that wall.
I shift in my chair and banish the thoughts. I don't want to be sitting here, thinking of sex with my teen sister in the room. It's gross.
"I'm busy."
She folds her arms.
I look at my computer, pretending to read the code on the screen. "She's the one with the problem, not me. Go talk to her."
"You could make things better."
"I've tried. I let her out."
"Of the suite, Enzo." She throws her hands in the air and shakes her head at me. "Stop fighting."
Now I sit back. "I'm not fucking fighting with her. I told you, I've tried to make peace, and I've let her out of the room. I can't give her total freedom the same way I can't give that to you. That creep is still out there. And she just clings to the unimportant bits."
Even as I say it, I'm aware I'm wrong.
They're not unimportant. To her. And I know how it looks.
I also know what I did came from a good place, and I refuse to undo that. I don't regret it. Maybe I went too far, but even then, surveillance is just that. And it was needed.
My libido and emotions just got entangled, that's all.
"Enzo..."
"I'm trying to end it. She doesn't want to help smooth things over. Okay? This is her war, and she's the one who keeps planting bombs and arranging the attacks."
"What are you talking about?"
"War. Her war, not mine."
"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't want to fight. She does. In your eyes."
"In my—"
"But, Enzo..." She comes up and leans on my table, fluttering her eyelashes like she's five and attempting charm to get her way.
I hate that it always works.
Fucking little sisters.
"What, Lyndall? And you can stop that. It won't work."
"Of course, it does," she says cheerfully. "You can't resist me."
"Lyndall."
"I just think that you could try a lot harder to earn her forgiveness."
"I apologized."
"Words are nothing. Actions count."
"I let her out," I mutter, shooing her with a hand.
She refuses to be shooed. "Are you sorry for going overboard?"
"Of course, I am. I'm not a stalker." Usually. "But I'm not sorry for keeping an eye on her. I won't apologize for doing whatever I needed to do, in order to keep her safe."
She straightens up. "Well, don't you think that's the problem?"
"What is? Safety?"
"Nooo. You won't even apologize for crossing all those lines. Maybe deep down you still feel you're right, but you did betray her trust. And you should be sorry."
"I can be right and apologize for it?"
"Yes. No. I mean, well...yes. You believe you did the wrong thing for the right reasons, but in her eyes, it's still wrong. It's her privacy and her trust. You can't think pretending to be a wrong number is okay?"
"Well—"
She puts her hands on her hips. "Enzo. You should be able to see it from both sides and understand how you can do good things for bad reasons and bad things for good reasons, and have them be wrong and also right."
"What the fuck are you on about?"
She ignores me. "Perspective is important. Both sides can be wrong. And right. But it's up to you to find the middle ground."
"Lyndall—"
She points at me. "You should be groveling your ass off. So, do some groveling and stop waiting for her to get over it. Be a damn man."
And with that, she flounces out.
Fuck.
What if she's right?
What if Cade and fucking Silas are right? I don't need to even think about Vi's point of view because I know she'd be on Lola's side. But it doesn't matter because Lyndall has opened a whole other side of this battle Lola seems intent on waging against me.
What if her need to punish and use me for sex—something I'm happy to volunteer for, especially if it's like that electric sex full of fury in her room—isn't her digging in her heels or holding a grudge, but her wanting to protect herself, or her trying to make sure she's not making a mistake?
Which she isn't.
I'm the first one in line after Lola to state I don't know what this is or where it's going, other than she's still in my heart. She has been my entire life.
I'm grown up enough to know she isn't that kid, and neither am I. I'm mature enough to see that feelings for her don't have to mean anything other than a lifetime of knowing her and a foray on the path of sex and obsession as adults.
But am I man enough to admit to myself this isn't the same love from the past? This is new, and it's all for Lola.
And I'm the one destroying it all.
Maybe Lyndall is right in that I can be morally Schrodinger's cat. I'm both right and wrong at the same time. And opening the lid is more about how I am with her than how she's feeling.
I can't change how she's feeling. But I can try to make it up to her. Try to even the slate.
In a word, grovel.
I don't want to destroy my own happiness any more than I want to destroy hers. And I crossed lines. Right or wrong, good or bad, I crossed lines with her privacy and trust.
For that, I probably should get down on my hands and knees and grovel.
Probably?
No probably about it.
With that in mind, I head out to fix that problem once and for all.
"What the fuck, Lola?"
Flowers, chocolates, and lingerie litter the floor around me.
"You think any of this is going to get me to suck your dick again?"
It's over a thousand dollars' worth of stuff. Usually, each of these alone would be a surefire way to get a girl to go soft and gooey.
Most girls.
Girls who aren't Lola.
And I'm not even trying to fuck her right now.
"No, it's called an apology."
She nods. "Well, too bad. I know a fuck-me bouquet when I see one. And future point...lingerie isn't a gift for anyone but the man."
"You..." I stare at her. "They're pretty. You liked the last lot."
"Good night."
And she closes the door in my face.
Lyndall stomps down the stairs, and her feet appear in front of me as I'm down on the floor, cleaning up. "What the fu-dge?"