Enforcer’s Obsession

Chapter 12

TWELVE

Hope

After Nico left, I’d settled in my corner, determined to make sure I didn’t have to see Sebastian again.

I looked up from counting the grain lines in Nico’s floor when I heard footsteps approaching some hours later. At least, I’d assumed it was hours.

I hadn’t been keeping track.

My body started to tingle, making me feel alert in a way I hadn’t since he’d left, and I knew without knowing that it was Nico who approached.

I wondered if he was making noise to alert me to his presence. That had to be why I could hear the footsteps lumbering down the hallway.

I knew from experience that he could move silently, so the sound had to be for my benefit.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

He had kidnapped me!

Why would he take time to be courteous?

So stupid, Hope, I chided myself internally.

Nico wasn’t trying to coddle me, and in fact, I was sure now this was a warning.

Here comes the big bad wolf.

My stomach started to churn, my mind flashing back to the past.

Taunting had always been one of Daniel’s favorite ways to torment me, and I couldn’t believe I had forgotten that.

What was even more fucked up was that as the steps got closer, I still felt that almost overwhelming desire, despite the sickening dread that thoughts of my stepfather could conjure.

A testament to how completely fucked up I was, not that I needed one.

My stepfather was a monster, so what did that make Nico?

What did it make me?

I’d told myself I was happy that he wasn’t here, yet deep inside, I’d been plagued with a nagging emptiness because he was gone.

It wasn’t that I missed him. No, it couldn’t be that. Because missing Nico would be insane.

No, I was just acutely aware that Nico wasn’t around.

I didn’t like that, even though I couldn’t say for sure that him being around was a good thing for me.

The bedroom door opened, and Nico walked in.

“You figured out the TV,” he said, gesturing toward the panel that slid aside to reveal the screen.

“I wasn’t snooping,” I said.

He looked at me, and I realized I had been too abrupt in my speech.

“You’re lying. Of course you were snooping,” he said. “Did you find anything besides the TV?”

I hadn’t, but I chose to ignore his question.

And even more, I refused to feel guilty about it.

So what if I’d been snooping?

He was keeping me locked in this room.

I was entitled.

“I got you some stuff,” he said, and I noticed for the first time the four bags of his hands.

“The rest will be here later,” he said.

I scrunched up my face, looking at the bags.

They looked expensive. The handles were ribbon, and the bag itself was some kind of coated paper that looked thick.

“Come look,” he said.

I had kept my gaze on his hands, his strong fingers gripping the handles confidently, but when he spoke, I looked at his eyes.

Felt a rush and a tremble that were becoming familiar.

I walked over tentatively, suddenly feeling weirdly underdressed.

Which made sense.

I was wearing one of his odd-fitting shirts and a pair of his underwear. He was wearing a button-down and slacks and looked more expensive than almost anyone I have ever seen.

Not that it mattered, I reminded myself as I took one of the bags.

I pulled it open and reached in to pull out a beautiful green, slightly darker than seafoam dress with a high waist and long skirt. It was made out of a thin, frilly, chiffon-like material that I’d never dreamed of wearing.

“What is this?” I asked.

“I…You needed some things, unless you like my underwear,” he said, one corner of his lips lifted in something like a smile.

I stopped rummaging through the bags to meet his eyes.

“I have things at home,” I said.

“And now you have things here,” he countered.

Still, there was something off about him.

He was holding back. I wanted to push, to figure out what was bothering him, but I also didn’t want to press my luck.

God how I hated this! Walking on eggshells, trying to figure out what the right thing to do was.

I didn’t fucking know, but I knew the stakes here were incredibly high.

So I’d figure it out.

But it wasn’t lost on me that even though I was confused—and scared—I didn’t feel even a tenth of the fear that the mere thought of my stepfather could conjure. Had definitive proof that Daniel had broken me.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts before I returned my attention to the bags. “The stuff isn’t going to fit,” I said, frowning down toward the floor.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Because I know,” I said, realizing that I was being snide.

Unbidden, I thought back to a couple years ago.

I had just gotten my vet tech certificate from community college. I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, but I’d wanted to do something special and thought about when I was a kid and my mom and I would dress up and get tea and finger sandwiches.

Tears threatened at the thought of those days, some of last good ones that we would have.

But after I got my certificate, I’d wanted to do the same thing, but didn’t have a dress.

I had scrimped for weeks to aside enough money to buy a dress and an order of tea and finger sandwiches.

Remembered the crushing disappointment when I hadn’t been able to find anything to fit me, especially not in my budget.

Not the biggest problem in the world, I supposed, but it had left a mark.

“You sound certain about that,” I said, looking at Nico, if only to ignore the feelings that were threatening now.

“I took some clothes from your apartment to take to the store to get stuff that would fit. The rest of it will be here tomorrow,” he said.

“You were in my apartment?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Yeah,” he said like it was nothing. Though to him, it probably was nothing.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I needed to see where you live. And that place isn’t safe,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me.

“It’s the safest place I can afford, and why did you break into my house?” I said.

It was a weird hill to die on.

I knew that, but the thought of him in my home, my sanctuary, was upsetting.

Nico tsked and then shook his head. “Don’t freak out, Trouble.”

“I’m not freaking out, Nico,” I said, though I was on the verge of doing just that.

No one, not even my best and only friend, had been inside my apartment.

Yeah, the place was sketchy, but it was also my home, the first place that I had felt safe since before my mother died.

And he had invaded it!

“So,” Nico said.

Something in his voice drew my attention, and I looked at him, for some reason bracing myself.

“Yeah?” I said.

“I have news,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him, on full alert now.

“Is there a reason you’re stalling?” I asked.

“I guess there’s no reason to, because stalling won’t change anything.”

Now I started to worry, really worry.

There was a…resignation in his voice, and a wariness that sent me on edge.

This man didn’t do wary, so this couldn’t be good.

“You’re my fiancé, at least for the time being,” he said.

I looked at him, and then, unable to control my reaction, I started to laugh.

He looked at me, his expression giving away nothing. Then, finally, he interjected. “I don’t understand the joke,” he said.

“Engaged?” I sputtered.

“Yes,” he said.

“I guess that’s a step up from you throwing me into some incinerator,” I said.

He had the nerve to look offended. “I’m not fucking happy about it either. But, unless you want the Genovese to put you in one of their whorehouses to get fucked until you’re begging for the incinerator, you’ll come around to the idea,” he said.

I sobered. “What’s going on?”

“The Genovse family is responsible for all that bullshit yesterday, and they spotted you. Made me an offer to trade for you, and to be honest, letting them have you would be much easier for me,” he said.

Fear, the kind that had been missing before, came over me.

Here I was laughing, allowing myself to lose sight of what was important.

And what was important was that yet again, my life was in the hands of a dangerous man.

I looked at Nico, suddenly felt nauseous.

I swallowed the bile down and went back through the bags.

But this time, I looked at the clothing differently.

It was beautiful, expensive, and proof that I was in deep, deep, shit.

Hope

“Are you hungry?” Nico asked.

“No,” I said.

The same question he asked three times a day for the past two days, and I had given the same answer.

“Eat anyway,” he said.

Instead of his bedroom, we were sitting in his dining room, one that I loved completely.

It was…homey, with a big circular table, nice wooden chairs, and decor that straddled the line between modern and severe.

But it still felt like a place of life, the kind where my mom and I would play board games when I was a kid, the kind a place where I would invite best friend, if I was the kind of person who could do that.

Now, it had just become a different room in what I was slowly coming to accept was my prison.

Or my home.

I wasn’t sure what name to give it, just as I wasn’t sure if the name I gave it mattered.

Nico put the plate in front of me, and my stomach rumbled.

His expression barely changed, but I could see he was satisfied.

And apparently, I was hungry.

Ravenous, really.

The mashed potatoes, steak, and roasted asparagus and carrot medley looked positively irresistible.

So I dug in, the steak melting like butter in my mouth.

As I ate, Nico watched me.

I felt his gaze on me, and, I didn’t hate it.

I paused for a moment, chewing the food in my mouth, hoping to swallow it down with my shame.

And I did feel that shame.

Because I was getting used to this.

Getting used to him.

And I hated myself for it.

I knew exactly what kind of man Nico was, but even still, I found a comfort in his presence.

He’d been here a lot for the last two days, and those times when he’d been gone were the worst.

It made no sense, but when he was around, I felt safe.

The exact opposite of what I should have felt.

I told myself it was just shock, trauma, but I wasn’t sure if I’d believe that.

I finished my food, trying to push my thoughts away.

Trying to focus on getting out of here.

As had become our ritual, I cleared the table, then washed the dishes.

“There’s a dishwasher,” Nico said.

It was the same thing he had said the previous days, something that I ignored again.

Told myself I needed to do something to keep from going crazy.

The truth was, I hated washing dishes, so doing so was a slight punishment, though not nearly as much of one as I deserved.

“You don’t like dresses,” Nico said.

I could see why he would think that.

Tons of clothes had been delivered, a wardrobe bigger than any I had ever owned, but so far, I’d only worn the slacks, shirts, and jeans.

The truth was, I loved the dresses, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d plucked those dresses right out of my dreams.

Which was precisely why I would never allow myself to wear them.

Wearing those dresses would be accepting that this was real.

Would on some level me giving into this.

And I wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Ever.

So I forced myself to meet his eyes. Was proud when I did and even prouder when I whispered, “No.”