Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
RAYNE
Feeling more like my usual self this morning, I march down the hallway to search for Enzo and get some answers. I find him in his study, and when I storm into his office, he doesn’t even bother to look up. His eyes glued to his cell phone.
My head’s throbbing, and I desperately need coffee and donuts, but first we need to clear a few things up. “Exactly how long do you expect to keep me prisoner here?”
No reply.
I plant my hands on his desk, and the arrogant bastard just keeps reading.
“Are you deaf?” I snap.
His eyes finally lift to meet mine, agonizingly slowly.
Asshole! He sighs, like granting me his attention is some kind of privilege.
Those dark eyes sweep over me once before he leans back in his chair, broad shoulders filling out his white shirt, jaw shadowed with stubble and his dark hair falling just enough over his forehead to make him look less polished and more dangerous.
He looks far too good for a man I hate this much.
He sets his phone facedown slowly, deliberately, then folds his hands over his stomach, watching me like I’m a mildly amusing inconvenience instead of a woman who’s about to launch herself across this desk.
“Not deaf.” His voice is as smooth as melted chocolate, or maybe I’m just really hungry and in need of some sugary goodness.
“Just enjoying the peace before you stormed in here like a tornado.”
“You can have all the peace you want if you just let me go.”
He shakes his head. “Not going to happen, Rayne.”
God, I hate him. He knows it, and he damn well enjoys it. I can tell by the way his lips twitch at the corner of his mouth. Twisted, arrogant bastard loves getting under my skin.
“Look,” I say sweetly, “I know that yesterday was a huge shock and all, and you went and made a terrible career move by offing the boss’s son, so I went along with your little plan to keep me prisoner. But today is a new day, and you can’t just go around kidnapping innocent civilians.”
He arches a thick eyebrow. “Innocent? Really?”
“Compared to you, I’m a Girl Scout.”
His left eye twitches. He wants to smirk but won’t give me the satisfaction.
“I’m serious, Enzo.”
He sighs. “So am I, Rayne. Until I can be sure you’re not going to rat me out to anyone about what you saw, you’re going nowhere.”
“And how exactly do you make sure of that? We both know you don’t trust me.”
“With good reason.”
I resist the urge to slap his smug, arrogant face.
This is an argument we’ll never resolve, and I’m done wasting my breath trying to make him believe something he refuses to consider.
It would destroy him now if he discovered the truth, obliterate the narrative of himself that he’s constructed.
“I have a business to take care of. House plants that will die if they’re not watered weekly. ”
“You can run your business online, correct?”
“How do you know what my business is?”
He opens his desk drawer and then hands me back my cell phone, an amused look on his face. “Micah looked into it.”
Fury has my hackles rising. “Micah hacked into my phone?”
“No, he looked into you. Into your photography business. You won’t be able to make calls on that, but we have Wi-Fi. I’m not preventing you access to the outside world. I’ll even give you the code. But you tell anyone what you saw yesterday and you’ll never make it out of here.”
“I already told you I won’t.”
He smirks, like he knows I wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that while I’m his prisoner at least. Men like Enzo Medici are untouchable, and there is nobody in the world I could contact to get me out of this mess.
He owns half the cops in this city. “My business is photography. You know, weddings, bar mitzvahs? Can’t exactly photograph them from the discomfort of your penthouse, can I? ”
“Then you should cancel your engagements for the foreseeable future, and I can have someone take care of your house plants if you’re so worried about them.
” He cocks his head to the side, like he knows I would rather listen to Bob Dylan on repeat for infinity than let one of his men enter my home.
Besides, I have a watering system that assures they’ll be fine, but he doesn’t need to know that.
I ignore his offer and focus on the other part of what he said. “How foreseeable?”
“I don’t know.”
Ugh! My limited patience is wearing very thin, and I really need coffee and sugar.
“God, you are a giant fucking asshole, you know that!” I yell.
“I have no intention of telling a single solitary soul what I saw yesterday, Enzo. Not even my ficus.” Whom, ordinarily I do tell all my troubles to.
“I would prefer to erase it, and you, from my brain for all eternity.”
He stares at me, looking far too unbothered and comfortable in his stupidly expensive chair.
I lean down, bringing my face close to his. “What are you planning to do with me?”
His gaze drops briefly to my cleavage before returning to my face. Asshole.
I glare at him, and he glares right back. Controlled. Infuriating. Maybe he isn’t always the hothead I remember. “You’re an asshole.”
“You told me that already.”
I lean closer. “Listen carefully, Enzo, because I know your ego is so huge it probably blocks out all surrounding noise.”
One dark eyebrow lifts. “I am listening.”
“What. Do. You. Want?”
Something shifts in his expression, something dark and dangerous.
Just enough to make my stomach tighten. His eyes are different now.
Focused. Predatory. His gaze sends a shiver sliding down my spine.
It’s menacing and terrifying and I should get out of this room, but a small, traitorous part of me enjoys it. I refuse to look away.
The silence stretches between us. Then he stands and I immediately regret leaning over the desk. He’s towering over me, and this study suddenly feels much smaller.
My heartbeat stumbles, and I hate that he notices.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Are you afraid of me, Rayne?”
The accusation irritates me enough for me to regain control of my senses. I stand tall and cross my arms over my chest. “Infuriated by you, yes. Afraid of you, no.”
His expression darkens.
“And you still haven’t answered my question. What the hell happens now?”
He draws in a breath through his nose, his jaw working as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “We intend to find this video you spoke of,” he says, seeming to have finally had enough of toying with me.
“And what will you do with it when you do?” I ask, feeling shame heating my cheeks and hating myself for it.
“Micah will watch it and—”
“God, you’re a piece of work,” I yell at him.
His lip curls in a sneer. “It’s not like he’s going to fucking enjoy it, he’s going to see if there’s anything useful on there that might give us a clue to who planted that camera in our house, and if it had anything to do with Carmine.”
My pulse is racing so fast I feel like I might pass out, but I take a breath and force my face into something close to neutral.
So what if Micah watches the worst moment of my life?
The Bertellis already saw it and I’m still standing here.
I didn’t die of humiliation. I survived Joseph describing it to me like it was entertainment.
I can survive Micah too. I can survive all of them.
“It’s not like I could watch it, Rayne. You think I want to look at you fucking my best friend?”
He should fucking watch it and see the truth. Let it ruin him the way it ruined me. “You know, I don’t give a fuck who sees it,” I lie, but I’m pissed beyond belief. “So that’s the plan? Find the video?”
He’s frowning at me. Suspicious. “Yes.”
Fine. I can get with that plan, because then he’ll know the truth, and I can get out of this goddamn prison forever. Finally be free of all of this.
Enzo is still staring at me. Unblinking. As if he’s memorizing me. I hate everything about him. His power. His confidence. The way he moves through the world like he owns it.
He steps around the desk now, stopping a few feet in front of me.
The scent of him wraps around me, clean soap, crisp cotton and expensive cologne.
Even the way he smells is annoyingly unfair.
He’s far too close for my comfort and my sanity.
“I’m leaving to meet with Luca in a few minutes, so you’ll have the place to yourself.
Don’t bother snooping, there’s nothing here worth finding.
The elevator is accessed by a fingerprint system, so there’s no point trying to run.
And if you did manage to make it to the lobby, one of the two armed guards stationed there today will shoot you on sight. ”
None of what he just said surprises me, except for the fact that he’s leaving, which is a bonus.
And from my early-morning exploring I’ve already discovered that his penthouse is stunning, if a little lacking in personality.
Along with the den stuffed full of books—mostly classics that make for a good aesthetic, that I doubt he ever reads—it has a TV bigger than my kitchen wall at home, and a private rooftop terrace.
“I suppose I can live with that for a few days.”
“You seem to be under the impression this arrangement is temporary, Rayne.”
My stomach drops. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” he says quietly, “I might never let you leave.”
I wait for the punchline to his joke, but it doesn’t land. “You hate having me here almost as much as I hate being here.”
He inches closer, dips his head. “But there is nothing more satisfying to me than watching you suffer.”
I take a breath, remember that once he finds that video and discovers what really happened, he’ll let me go. He’ll have no choice. “I have no doubt that I am the most satisfying thing in your life, and always have been, but you can’t keep me here forever.”
His jaw ticks. Yeah, he felt that one. I suppress a smile at his reaction. He takes another half step that has me shivering at his proximity. “Watch me.”
I tip my chin at him. “You’re insane.”
“Thank you.”
“I hate you.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, so quickly I almost didn’t see it, before returning to my eyes. I still feel the heat from it, like being burned. “I know.”
I wish I had a snappy comeback for him, but I have nothing. Literally nothing left. This man took everything from me, and I let him.