Chapter 17 Enzo
Three questions enter my mind as soon as I return to the land of the living. One, why the fuck does my skull feel like it’s filled with air and I just took a shroom zoom to wonderland? Two, did someone stab me? And three…
Is someone fucking snoring?
Attempting to keep the glaring lights from blinding my retinas, I peel one eye open slowly. It’s then I realize I’m not in Castro’s apartment where I last remember being.
A unfamiliar weight sit’s on my abdomen, what the fuck? Little Doc’s not only sleeping, her head nestled right under my breastbone, but a cute little pool of drool settles against my skin.
Fucking adorable.
Did I just call someone adorable? I wasn’t aware the word was even part of my vocabulary.
Sexy, hot as hell, fuckable, annoying, clingy, delusional, cunt face, pussy, those are my usual descriptors, but adorable?
As in easily adored… Yeah, Lucy Sinclair can be described at this moment as nothing else.
While she’s unconscious and therefore not being an absolute brat, I take the time to admire her features.
The sight of her straight nose with a slight bump in the middle, her fair skin dusted with freckles and her full lips has my dick hardening.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her eyes move rapidly beneath paper-thin eyelids, and I have to wonder if she’s dreaming… but she had told me she never dreams.
I wish I could reach into her brain and immerse myself into her, live there when life becomes dull and pointless, let her beautiful mind give me peace.
“No...” she whimpers. Her brows knotting together has me crawling out of my skin. This strange need to climb inside her mind and suffocate her monsters overcomes me.
I’ve never wanted the damsel in distress type of man or woman.
My crazy needs a certain level of lunacy, those who challenge me so I can put them in their place, those who get jealous only for me to remind them how fun it can be to share, those who would follow me off a cliff if I told them the pain would be worth the fall.
Doctor Lucy Sinclair doesn’t seem like she’d be the type.
But fuck if her darkness doesn’t call to mine. Lucy Sinclair is as unhinged as I am, she’s simply better at hiding it.
I don’t need her…
I fucking crave her.
“Please,” she whimpers, and I can’t stand the sound without me being the cause of it.
I sit up slightly, cradling her cheeks in my hands and wincing when I do, fuck. The sharp throb in my lower abdomen reminds me that bitch, Castro, fucking stabbed me. “Lucy, baby? Wake up.”
Her eyelids fly open, and she jolts up, feverishly assessing me before she pushes me back down onto the table. “Enzo, you’ll tear your sutures.”
“If I do, promise to nurse me back to health?” I wink and her eyes roll.
Grabbing her slender throat, I haul her into me, her body colliding with my chest. If I could reach her thigh, I’d slide it over my hips, fuck her right here on this surgical table.
But alas, I’ll have to settle for this awkward half laying thing we have going.
“Enzo,” she says on a breathy exhale.
“What memory were you just trapped in?” I ask, brushing my lips against hers, hoping to coax out the truth from them.
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t lie.”
She remains silent, her ever-changing brown irises telling me in no uncertain terms she will not give me those memories yet. “Fine, easier question. Why were you sleeping on me?”
“I-I…” Her bottom lip quivers and her eyes flare with innocence and fear. What an erotic little combination. Normally that’d piss me off, but it simply intrigues me with her.
“I-I…” I mock, pulling from her a vicious little snarl.
Her jaw grinds and I wait patiently for a snarky reply, but she remains silent again.
The contained fire in her piques my interest and I can’t think of anything else except how magnificent it would be to see her ignite like a wildfire. “Devil got your tongue?”
“I fell asleep,” she snaps. “You asked me not to leave you.”
Damn.
She resists my pull, but I keep her close, not finished with her yet. My thumb reaches up, slowly tugging down her plush bottom lip. When I release it, it snaps back into place. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to kiss the shit out of her. But I hold myself back, just enough to maintain our sanity.
Rafael doesn’t want me to fuck the Little Doc…maybe I should fire her…
Seems like a healthy solution.
“Enzo…” she trails off, drawing me from my brilliant plans.
“Yes?”
She glances down and I follow her line of sight. I’m hard as a rock and pitching a mega tent in my pants currently. You could fit a family of four and the dog in this thing. “That’s what those lips do to me, baby.”
Her tongue darts out, running along the seam of her lips and for a moment, one tortuous moment, I think she’ll do something about it. But alas, she opens her mouth, and not in the way I want. “You mentioned your mom while you were out. Do you want to talk about her?”
Do I want to talk about my dead mother while I've got a hot doc in my vicinity and a flag at full staff in my pants? Fuck to the no. This is why I don’t take drugs and why Arden never used them to knock me out.
I always see Mamma and even though I don’t remember fuck for all when I wake, I apparently have spouted off some pretty depressing shit while under the influence.
Releasing Lucy’s throat, I swing my legs over the side of the table, my side burning like someone took a hot poker and played whack-a-mole with my internal organs.
My muscles tense slightly at the jarring sensation when I step down from the table, but I ignore that shit like I do most annoying inconveniences.
I make for the exit when she grips onto my bicep. “Enzo, wait. You need rest. I also have antibiotics and pain killers for you.
Ignoring her, I pull away, leaving the office and slamming the door behind me, but not before she shouts my name again, followed by a muffled, “Upryamyy mudak.”
I chuckle at the intrusive, fiery little thing. She’s right though, I am a stubborn asshole. One who doesn’t want to fucking discuss trauma and woe is me bullshit.
She can fuck off with those come fuck me eyes and shrink shit.
Arden tried. But it doesn't matter what she bribes me with, I’m not pouring out my dead, black heart on the table.
Nah, if she wants that part of me, she’ll have to carve it from my chest. I’ll give her my body, pieces of my mind, but my heart’s no good.
Time blurs as I walk down the hall, feeling as if hours have passed before I’m pushing through Raf’s office door only to find it empty. Where the fuck is the bastard? My mind still feels a bit fucked but I know he wouldn’t go far, not with me half dead on a table.
Heading to the garage to see if his car is still here, I find him as soon as the elevator doors open.
He’s got his sleeves rolled up, holding Castro’s ugly mug against the exhaust of his blacked out McClaren.
The little shit’s screams make me giddy, and I would jump for joy if not for the stab wound the fucker left me.
I still can’t believe he actually got a shot in and thanks to Little Doc and her Ketamine, I don’t actually remember the details of what exactly happened.
Castro’s dumb-fuck face sports two perfect circles from the burn marks, one eye swollen shut and Raf’s knuckles are busted.
You see, everyone labels me as the crazy one, but only because no one has seen my brother go postal.
When my twin loses control of his flickering sanity, no one lives to tell the tale.
And the sure-fire way to get him to go atomic, hurt me.
Raf drops Castro, his body falling limp on the concrete floor and a weak moan leaves his half dead body.
“You fucked up, Gio.” My boot toes the blubbering mess on the floor. Rafael grips me by the nape of my neck and pulls me forward, his forehead touching mine in a brief show of affection before he pulls back.
“She fixed you.”
“Define fixed.”
His head shakes. “You’re alive.”
I step back as Rafael bends forward, hauling Castro onto a rolling cart. The way he manhandles him seems effortless, likely from the amount of adrenaline and rage coursing through him.
Resting my ass on the hood of my Mustang, I cross my arms, my side aching something fierce but no way in hell I’m going to go back to Little Doc with my tail between my legs and admit I do in fact need something for the pain. Nah, I’ll suffer for my pride.
“So, what exactly happened? Last I remember, I had the fucker up against a wall then boom, I’m in Little Doc’s office.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“Your new doc knocked my ass out.” I crack my neck and rub at my traps, feeling a killer headache come on. “I want her fired.”
“I’m not firing her so you can fuck her.”
“That’s not—”
“She’s staying, Enzo. And Castro tried to gut you because you threatened to fuck his wife in front of him if he didn’t pay up. Apparently, his wife is a touchy subject. Honestly, it’s one of your more docile threats. I’m disappointed in his response.”
The memory begins to return, and a small chuckle leaves me. “That’s right. What a little bitch.”
My threat to fuck his wife was empty. I’m not into the non-consensual shit, unless she has a rape kink…then I could play into it but nah, I was only fucking with his head. Little did I know the fucker had stashed a knife.
“Hey, plug the press in for me.” Raf nods to the power strip, and I not so gracefully lean forward, doing as he asked.
A moment later, the hydraulic press whirls to life and Castro’s one eye, the one not pounded to shit, flares wide. He’s on the metal rolling cart, now secured with chains and I tilt my head. When the fuck did Raf do that? I must really be out of it.
He rolls him over, positioning his knee under the press. When he presses the button, the ram slowly lowers, crushing Castro’s knee with a euphoric snap. His screams echo off the concrete walls before they abruptly stop, the useless sack of skin going limp.
Sadistically, my brother will wait till the fucker wakes before moving to the next joint. If I know him, and I do, he’ll snap every joint in Giovanni’s body till he finally puts him out of his misery.
Rafael isn’t usually into torture, that’s my thing. He likes a clean, quick kill but fuck with me…you get the sick, twisted version of my brother he reserves for special occasions, finally releasing his beast.
A pulsing sensation pounds behind my eyeballs and my vision goes a little funky as I rest back on the hood of my car again. What were we talking about again?
Ah, yes, Little Doc.
“Your accusation that I want to fire Lucy so I can fuck her is completely off base. She drugged me after I told her not to. That has to go against some ethical code, right?”
Raf assesses me, raising a brow. I can read his expression loud and clear. We are the definition of going against ethical codes. “You know what I mean.”
“I told her if you died, she would also. Whatever she needed to do, she had my permission. Get over its Enzo. And don’t—”
Castro moans as he groggily arouses from his little nap, drawing Rafael’s attention back toward him.
Aligning his other knee, the press snaps that one as well.
My brother simply watches, like a pyromaniac admiring a fire.
Raf can’t take his attention off the slimy little shit as he passes out again… Jesus, what a pussy.
Raf maneuvers the cart so Castro’s shoulders will be next. “Don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t want to screw the doctor, Enzo.”
I hold up my hands in innocence. “I’m not saying that. I want to do more, honestly, but I’m a little pissed at her at the moment. I mean, really, how are we supposed to form a relationship built on trust when she’s drugging me? It’s rude.”
Raf halts his movement. “You desire a relationship with her?”
A beat passes between us as I think about what he’s asking. I hadn’t seen what I wanted in that way until he asked me. I guess I said it first, didn’t I? Maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.
I can’t give Lucy the traditional relationship she most likely sees for herself—the white picket fence, the family dog and four kids. But I also can’t imagine her doing that with anyone but me. I don’t want another man making her finally dream.
“I don’t know exactly what I want.”
“You know it won’t be forever,” Rafael reminds me, subtly hinting at the pact we made years ago. No weaknesses.
I shrug, brushing the idea of forever away, but this odd fucking pain hits my gut as I pretend I don’t want that…maybe. With her.
“No weaknesses, Lucy’s temporary.”
Castro finally rouses, his swollen, bleeding head flopping sideways as he pleads with me through one barely open eye.
“Don’t look at me like I’ll save you, you fucking stabbed me.”
Tucking my hands into my pockets, I make for the elevator, not entirely sure what my next plans are.
“Enzo.” I spin, my brother lining Castro up once again. “Give me notice before you break her heart. I’ll need to find her replacement.”
As if he could find a woman who could compare.
Please. I give him a two fingered salute before stepping into the elevator.
The doors close as Giovanni wails and I can’t help but think about when she closed the elevator doors on me, waving those sassy fingers.
When she looks at me like she wants to gut me with a spoon, when she leans into my hardness with her softness, the sound of her voice over the phone, how it’s more vulnerable than in person, like she wants to let someone in but doesn’t know how when facing them eye to eye, the way her body responds to me like it belongs to me but her mouth and wit challenge me, never fully submitting.
All those things add up to one fucked up conclusion—Lucy Sinclair has me bleeding out at her feet, begging her for one more cut.
I can’t help but think about letting her go and an unwelcomed thought hits me like a train. Maybe I won’t be breaking her heart, maybe she’ll be the one to bring mine back to life.