Page 52 of Enzo
“Jesus Christ, you… That’s not normal. I should have run,” she muttered under her breath.
“But you didn’t because you love your family more than anything, and I… fuck, I hope you’ll come to think of me as family one day.”
My wife didn’t respond. Just stared at me like I was crazy, and that look in her eyes would haunt me for a long time. I would have laughed if it was happening to someone else, because we ruled the criminal empire through torture, murder,and blackmail, and yet it was the betrayal in Penelope’s eyes that disturbed me the most.
“I want a divorce,” she rasped.
“I’ll give you anything—theworldif you so wish. But I can’t give you that.”
19
PENELOPE
Ireared back, glaring at him.
“This… you…” I shook my head, struggling to find the words. “You’re all wrong.” He winced, and a part of me was glad that my words struck a chord with his crazy ass. “Our marriage is all wrong.”
My lips trembled.
I was so mad I could weep. But I didn’t. Instead, I focused on these feelings bubbling in my chest. Fury. Betrayal. Hatred even.
The oddest part was that it shouldn’t have mattered to me as much as it did. After all, he was only a stranger. Yet, it bothered me. It… hurt.
Images of all the ways I wanted to make him pay flashed through my mind when his next move surprised me.
He cupped my cheek, his fingers skimming over my skin gently.
“Every marriage is different. Why do we have to classify it as right or wrong?” I blinked in confusion, staring at him, flabbergasted, as he took my nape and tilted my head back, our gazes clashing. “We had a connection that night at the club, didn’t we?”
I licked my lips. “It wasn’t real.”
“It was very real for me.” His nose brushed against mine ever so lightly. “Ever since I first saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted softly, twisting my insides.
I saw the truth in his eyes, but it was still all wrong.
“I need time and space to process all this.” I stumbled back. His face became very still while I kept my eyes on him, hoping he could see how much he’d fucked me up. “I think it’s best if we?—”
Suddenly, he was on top of me, the mattress pressed against my back and my naked body exposed.
“Don’t you fucking dare say get a divorce,” he snarled, his nostrils flaring. “Actually, remove the word from your vocabulary.”
This arrogant, crazy… stalker!
“I was going to say it’s best we sleep in separate bedrooms.” My heart thundered so hard against my rib cage I struggled to breathe. “You violated my privacy. You lied, manipulated, and God knows what else. The least you can do for me is give me some space.”
“This is our bedroom, and it’s our wedding night,” he stated matter-of-factly, but there was a tense undercurrent in the baritone of his voice. I gulped audibly. “You have nothing to fear from me, and if you give me the chance, I’ll show you as much in time. But there is no fucking way we’re going down the road of separate bedrooms.”
I opened my mouth, but my voice failed me and no words came out.
Seemingly satisfied, he shifted into a sitting position and laid a sheet on me before he slid off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
I sat frozen, listening to the shower turn on. Everything told me to get out of there, to take my chances even if it meant facing his security detail, but I knew I wouldn’t get far.
I got up, and something thick and wet slid down my thighs. I lowered my gaze, watching my husband’s cum leak out of me. It should have concerned me, but I was on the pill.
I scoffed. The fact that we didn’t discuss protection should have been the first red flag. The bastard knew my sexual history, which was pretty much nonexistent thanks to him.
Anger flaring inside me again, I went to the dresser and grabbed clean underwear, a sports bra, leggings, and a baggy T-shirt. Then I made my way out of the bedroom and into a hallway bathroom to clean myself up before I got dressed.
