Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“No veggies?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “You get to eat whatever you want.”
A grin forms on my face, and I love watching as he prepares our dinner.
“Soo…” I give him a curious look. “Where do we go from here?”
He glances at me, and I don’t know what he sees on my face, but he wipes his hands on a paper towel, then comes to stand in front of me. Placing his hand behind my neck, he leans down until we’re eye-to-eye. “What do you want?”
“You go first.”
Enzo shakes his head. “I’m not going to say something, and then you just go along with it because it’s what you think I want.”
Dammit.
I let out a slow breath, glancing at his throat as I admit, “My feelings haven’t changed, Enzo. You’re still the only one for me.”
“Are you able to handle us being a couple?” he asks. My gaze darts back to his as my heartbeat speeds up, and when I nod, the corner of his mouth lifts into a hot grin. “Then we’re a couple, Rosie. No, testing the waters. You’re mine. I’m yours.”
The emotion rushing through my chest is so intense I grin my butt off. “I really like the sound of that.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, then pulls back and searches my face before he lets go of me and walks to the fridge.
I watch as he takes a Fanta out and pours it into a glass. Setting it down in front of me, he says, “Relax. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
I stare at Enzo, drinking in the sight of how good he looks in the faded black jeans and black T-shirt. He hasn’t shaved for a few days, and the bristles on his jaw are thicker than the usual neat five o'clock shadow he prefers.
“Are you growing a beard?” I ask.
“No. I’ve just been a little busy.”
With me.
Silence falls between us as he fries the chicken, and this time, when he catches me staring, the corner of his mouth lifts and his eyes soften.
“I hope you’re hungry, bella mia.”
“While I was in the prison, I swore I would eat anything you put in front of me,” I admit.
Enzo plates the food, then brings it to the island. He takes the seat beside me, then asks, “What did they feed you?”
“Slop.” I pick up a chicken tender and bite into it, then let out a groan. “Oh, God. So good.”
Once he’s done eating, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a sip of water before placing his hand on my back.
He watches me take the last couple of bites, then mentions, “You lost a lot of weight. Did they only feed you once a day?”
I shake my head and take a couple of sips of my Fanta. “We all got three meals a day, but…” Tilting his head, he patiently waits for me to continue at my own pace. “It was difficult to keep the food down.”
“How many hours a day did you work?” he asks.
“Eighteen to twenty. I had a target of one hundred million to make every day, or they would kill one of the other hackers.”
His features tighten, but instead of losing his shit, he remains seated beside me and reins in his temper.
That’s new.
Enzo’s never been known for his patience.
His tone is harsh as he asks the question I’ve been dreading the most. “What did you have to do to make that insane target?”
My emotions have been more stable than yesterday, but as one image after the other flashes through my mind, my eyes snap shut, and my breathing speeds up fast.
Suddenly, I’m swooped up into Enzo’s arms, and needing all the comfort only he can give me, I cling to him and hide my face against his neck.
He carries me to the living room and cradles me on his lap while peppering my hair and forehead with kisses.
My voice doesn’t sound like my own when I whisper, “I had to go into the dark web and find the most depraved people and bribe them with their dirty secrets.” My throat strains as I sob, “There were so many children… so many victims.”
“Jesus Christ,” he groans, holding me even tighter.
“I’ll never get the photos and videos out of my mind,” I cry.
My stomach rolls like it did in the prison, and I press my hand to it while taking deep breaths.
“Do you feel sick?” Enzo asks.
I nod and keep my eyes closed as I wait for the awful sensation to pass.
He presses his mouth to my temple and keeps it there while rubbing circles on my lower back, and for some reason, it helps, and my stomach settles.
We’re quiet for several minutes before Enzo asks, “Do you want to see a professional to help you deal with everything?”