Enzo drove through the neighborhood, passing run-down, neglected houses. We drove by homeless people sleeping on the streets and in tents. He suddenly slammed on the brakes to let an elderly woman cross the road.
A hint of a smile touched my lips at the softness on his face when he gestured for her to go forward. She raised her hand in a silentthank youbefore pushing her shopping cart ahead.
My smile dropped into a frown as my eyes met her saggy ones steeped in sorrow. Her cart was filled with random bags and clothing, telling me she was also homeless.
With my chest caving in, I knew that could’ve been the reality of my mother and me if my stepfather hadn’t stepped in.
When she was safely on the other side of the road, Enzo hit the gas. He maintained a normal speed until we left the residential area and reached the highway.
As if speed limits didn’t exist and he possessed no patience, he weaved between cars and lanes, not caring if the line separating the lanes was solid or dotted.
I sat in the leather seat, staring at him and committing his features to memory. After the funeral, he’d shed his blazer, draped it on the hook over the back seat, and pushed his sleeves to his elbows.
Tiny droplets of blood dotted his sleeve. The tendons in hisjaw moved as he swallowed. He was always tense. I doubted even the best day of his life had brought him peace.
He darted around an eighteen-wheeler. His mouth was slightly parted, as if he was lost in thought.
How could someone so demented inside be so utterly gorgeous?
Before the Devil’s downfall, the Bible described him as being a creature of beauty and perfection, but that very beauty bred arrogance and corruption. The demon by my side was beautiful, too, but unlike the biblical Devil, Enzo’s looks weren’t marred by his sins.
Dark memories drifted into my thoughts, and I remembered how I’d been accused of something so similar. My father had claimed that my beauty meant I had been sent by the Devil to spread evil.
“Now, Blair,” Enzo said, snapping me out of going to that dark place, “we need to have a little chat.” He ran his finger over his ring.
“I’d rather we spend the car ride in silence,” I replied, flicking my nail against the thick stitching in the leather console.
“You have no say in the matter.”
“I can keep my mouth shut and not say anything.” I crossed my arms with a heavy huff. “How about that? It’s not like you can pry my mouth open.”
A smile tugged on his lips, and I should’ve known that was a prologue to his violence. He jerked the wheel so hard that my head connected with the window. Pain shot through my skull.
I worked my jaw to each side.
That was his soft caution to me to check my attitude.
A threat that, yes, he could pry my mouth open if he wanted. With how demented he was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could crawl down my throat, collect all the words I’d swallowed for years, and drag them back up to answer his questions.
Frowning, I rubbed the side of my head, still not speaking.
“Tell me about your stepfather,” he said.
“Why?” I snapped.
“I’m curious.”
I tilted my head to the side, biting into my lip. “A question for a question.”
“I don’t do ultimatums, Blair.” He stepped on the gas, passing two cars, and a semi honked when he cut it off.
My heart was beating at the same speed as the car’s.
“What’s his name?” he asked.
“Bill.”
He scoffed, throwing me a dirty look. “That’s not his name.”
