Page 18 of Ruthless Sinner
“I brought you dinner.” Enzo strides confidently towards the coffee table. With a gentle thud, he sets the tray down, careful not to disturb the food artfully arranged by the cook. “Do you have any food allergies? I need to inform the chef if special accommodations are needed.”
I roll my eyes even though he isn’t looking at me. I mumble my reply, the word ‘mangoes’ barely audible. Despite not being deathly allergic, I still dread the uncomfortable reaction that follows—my mouth breaking out into hives, swelling up, and becoming unbearably itchy.
Enzo nods his head in acknowledgment. “I will collect the dishes in an hour. If there is anything you need, please let me know.”
“I want out of here,” I reply in a bored tone.
He walks toward the door. “That is not an option at this time. Besides,” he pauses momentarily, and his air of professionalism falters, “you’re safer here.”
As my eyes settle on Enzo, I recognize the all-too-familiar expression on his face. It’s the same one every person has when they learn about my father’s abuse. Pity. Disgusting, nauseating pity. My stomach turns as I feel his judgment and sympathy wash over me. “So you know, too.”
Enzo’s eyebrows deepen into a sharp V. “Everyone knew, Adalina. It was one of the reasons Dante wanted to save you.”
A bitter, acrid laugh erupts from my lips before I can stop it. “Save me? Look around. I traded one gilded cage for another. Do you think Tommaso kept me in a dirty garage and fed me scraps? I had a room just like this. No door, though, because my father said I didn’t deserve privacy. But he kept me well-dressed, well-fed, and on display for anyone who wanted to see me. Sure, under the clothes, I had bruises and open wounds inflicted upon me by his bodyguards, but he kept me in a prison just as extravagant as this one. Dante didn’t save me,” I spit out the words angrily. “Dante upgraded my stay from casual daily abuse to casual daily boredom. And sure, I’ll take that any day of the week over my father putting out cigars on my back. But don’t tell me Dante saved me. All he did was ensure the existence I return to will be even worse than it was before.”
A dark shadow crosses Enzo’s face, but it doesn’t come with a response. Without a word, he storms out of the room, slamming the door with enough force to shake the walls. My heart races as I hear him lock it with not one but three heavy deadbolts. The sound echoes in my ears, a clear warning that I am now trapped in this ominous place with no escape.
“Yeah, fuck you, too,” I tell the room. “Hey! Enzo! I need a cigarette!” I scream, but the locked door remains shut. My frustration boils over, and I let out a crazed laugh, my body shaking with maniacal amusement.
I don’t touch the food. Enzo returns an hour later to take away the untouched tray.
I laugh at him, the sound echoing through the room, manic and bouncing off the walls. He must think I’m completely unhinged. Maybe I am. The feeling of madness consumes me, sinking its claws deep into my mind, even though I’ve been here for less than a day. It’s suffocating, like being trapped in a padded cell with no way out.
Chapter 19
Dante
The morning arrives, bringing with it an unwelcome and jarring surprise. My phone rings on the bedside table, forcing me awake. I scramble to grab it and shut off the ringer. “What?” I bark into the receiver, my voice muffled by my arm shielding my eyes from the brightness of day.
“Boss, we got a situation down here.”
It takes me a minute to realize I’m on the phone with Vince, one of the guards at the gate. “What kind of situation?” I hear yelling, and I can’t tell if it’s through the phone or outside my bedroom window.
“Ms. Castiglione is here. As instructed, we told her she is not allowed on the property without your permission. This upset her. Her driver has rammed the front gate several times at her behest. His front bumper is now stuck, and Ms. Castiglione is threatening to climb the fence if we do not let her in.”
My betrothed is pushing me to my limits. Every day, she tests my sanity. Adalina may be a wildfire, beautiful and out of control, but Lucrezia takes it to a new level. “I’ll come down there, Vince. Thanks for letting me know.”
I listen as he pokes his head out of the guard shack to deliver the news. It is quiet for a few moments before Vince returns to say, “This seems to have mollified Ms. Castiglione for the time being.”
I hang up. “Fuck Ms. Castiglione,” I mumble to the empty room.
I would give anything for three cups of coffee and a shot of vodka to fortify myself for the fight to come, but I have neither at my disposal. It’s too early for this shit, but I force myself out of bed and pull on a pair of jeans. They are scratchy and uncomfortable, but I don’t have time to find something else. I’m afraid if I leave Lucrezia at the gate too long, she’ll set fire to the property.
Enzo must still be asleep because he isn’t downstairs when I swing through the kitchen to grab an apple on my way out the door. Good for him. I’m glad someone gets to sleep in on this God-awful early Sunday morning.
As I approach the gate, I immediately see a chaotic scene unfolding two hundred yards away. Three men stand in a heated argument, their voices raised and gestures wild. The steam billowing from the nearby car adds to the tension in the air. I recognize one of the men as Lucrezia’s driver, but the other two work for me.
My betrothed, with her wide, sparkling eyes and bouncy energy, perks up the moment she notices me walking toward her. She’s adorned in a vibrant sundress that hugs every curve of her body, accentuating her youthful beauty. Despite her alluring appearance, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt knowing she is still underage. My conscience tugs at me, reminding me that she’s also insane.
I take a crisp, juicy bite of the apple as I walk up, my lips curling into a frown at the absurdity of the situation. “What the fuck, Lucrezia?”
“Good morning,” she beams. “How is my future husband?”
That word makes me sick. “I’d be better if I was still sleeping. I had a late night.”
Lucrezia smirks as she leans against the iron bars of the gate, her long lashes batting flirtatiously at me. “Up late visiting your whores?” Her voice is laced with sharp sarcasm, contrasting her beautiful, innocent appearance.
“I don’t have to pay for sex, Lucrezia.”