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“And I make the calls on who’s dick is allowed in this mouth. And it will never be yours.” He glares at me. “Do you understand, Hercules?”
“Of course. Why would I think otherwise?” I don’t look her in the eyes. I just continue to stare indifferently at him.
“You are going back to the United States. Beckett needs you, and you’re no longer desired here.” His dark eyes stare me down. “Isn’t that right, baby doll?” he growls into Briar’s ear.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice not as strong as she’s trying to make it sound. “You watch me in a way that makes Enzo uncomfortable. And we can’t have that, can we?”
She turns her head, pressing her lips to his and kissing him deeply. I want to squeeze my eyes shut or flip the desk over. But I don’t. I simply stand here, rooted to the floor, and try to block that fucking shit out.
Palming one of her tits, he looks smugly at me before taking a gun from his waistband and dragging it through her hair. Still, she tries to remain calm, even though I have no fucking idea why.
“You have a flight to catch in an hour. If you aren’t on it, Rossi and the girl will both be shot in the head, and I’ll bury you alive with their bodies.”
I want to dare to look at her, just once, to read her in some way, but I know it’s a risk.
I might have to go back to the United States, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop protecting her.
There’s only one person I one hundred percent trust in this house.
Rossi.
“Guess I’d better get packing,” I say, taking a step toward the door.
Suddenly, he shoves her onto the ground, and she lands in a loud thump on her ass. And again, I can’t even do a fucking thing about it.
One day, I will get my revenge on this fuck. And when I do, hell will rain down on him.
Standing quickly, he tucks his gun back into his waistband. “Hurry along, Hercules. I have shit to do. I can’t have you hanging back, trying to fuck my fiancée.”
Swallowing thickly, I suck in a breath through my nose, and I do the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life.
I leave my Dove behind.
When I get back to my room, my eyes burn with the tears that so badly want to spill out. No, pour out like a fucking river. Looking at Hudson and saying what Enzo forced me to say was the hardest thing. But I had no choice. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself, hoping it might make it sting less.
Which is trash because it does nothing but make it worse.
Days ago, Hudson secretly gifted me new drawing supplies. And what did I do to repay him? I played along with Enzo’s plan.
Enzo also informed me that, per Beckett’s and Marco’s orders, his sister, Gia, would now be marrying Walker. And that because my brother was clearly more important than me and was soon going to be a professional athlete, I was no longer needed. I was happy for me but sad for Walker—until I found out that I wasn’t free from this family. No … I was going to endure a life of hell.
After Hudson left the room, Enzo gripped my face once more and told me that I was to travel home for his sister and Walker’s wedding—with a guard of his choice for me, of course—and then I’d return to Italy. We wouldn’t be getting married, but he promised me that I would still be living under his thumb. After all, I know too much now.
Which really means … I’ll return to Italy after I show my face at my brother’s wedding, and then I can consider myself as good as dead.
The Romanos just need to get this wedding in before anything crazy goes down. Because I’m sure they know that if I go missing, my brother isn’t going to just … marry Gia.
Rossi is, hands down, the nicest guard here on the property. That includes Hudson. So, I’m praying I get to travel home with him, but I know I’m not going to be that lucky, especially since I’ve already been accused of trying to get Rossi to notice me when Enzo was in that meeting.
The man is completely delusional, yet even he suspected something between Hudson and me.
If only he knew.
Hearing Enzo’s car start makes me want to sprint to Hudson’s room and tell him that I don’t want him to leave. Or to beg him to take me with him. But when I pull my door open, one of Enzo’s personal guards—whom I’ve never learned the name of, only knowing that he’s terrifying—stands there, as if waiting for me to mess up.
“Going somewhere?” he snarls, narrowing his cold, dark eyes.
“I wanted some water,” I say innocently. “Is … that okay?”
