Page 23 of King of War

“Compared to you, I’m a Girl Scout.”

His left eye twitches. He wants to smirk but won’t give me the satisfaction.

“I’m serious, Enzo.”

He sighs. “So am I, Rayne. Until I can be sure you’re not going to rat me out to anyone about what you saw, you’re going nowhere.”

“And how exactly do you make sure of that? We both know you don’t trust me.”

“With good reason.”

I resist the urge to slap his smug, arrogant face. This is an argument we’ll never resolve, and I’m done wasting my breath trying to make him believe something he refuses to consider. It would destroy him now if he discovered the truth, obliterate the narrative of himself that he’s constructed. “I have a business to take care of. House plants that will die if they’re not watered weekly.”

“You can run your business online, correct?”

“How do you know what my business is?”

He opens his desk drawer and then hands me back my cell phone, an amused look on his face. “Micah looked into it.”

Fury has my hackles rising. “Micah hacked into my phone?”

“No, he looked into you. Into your photography business. You won’t be able to make calls on that, but we have Wi-Fi. I’m not preventing you access to the outside world. I’ll even give you the code. But you tell anyone what you saw yesterday and you’ll never make it out of here.”

“I already told you I won’t.”

He smirks, like he knows I wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that while I’m his prisoner at least. Men like Enzo Medici are untouchable, and there is nobody in the world I could contact to get me out of this mess. He owns half the cops in this city. “My business is photography. You know, weddings, bar mitzvahs? Can’t exactly photograph them from the discomfort of your penthouse, can I?”

“Then you should cancel your engagements for the foreseeable future, and I can have someone take care of your house plants if you’re so worried about them.” He cocks his head to the side, like he knows I would rather listen to Bob Dylan on repeat for infinity than let one of his men enter my home. Besides, I have a watering system that assures they’ll be fine, but he doesn’t need to know that.

I ignore his offer and focus on the other part of what he said. “How foreseeable?”

“I don’t know.”

Ugh! My limited patience is wearing very thin, and I really need coffee and sugar. “God, you are a giant fucking asshole, you know that!” I yell. “I have no intention of telling a single solitary soul what I saw yesterday, Enzo. Not even my ficus.” Whom, ordinarily I do tell all my troubles to. “I would prefer to erase it, and you, from my brain for all eternity.”

He stares at me, looking far too unbothered and comfortable in his stupidly expensive chair.

I lean down, bringing my face close to his. “What are you planning to do with me?”

His gaze drops briefly to my cleavage before returning to my face. Asshole.

I glare at him, and he glares right back. Controlled. Infuriating. Maybe he isn’t always the hothead I remember. “You’re an asshole.”

“You told me that already.”

I lean closer. “Listen carefully, Enzo, because I know your ego is so huge it probably blocks out all surrounding noise.”

One dark eyebrow lifts. “I am listening.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

Something shifts in his expression, something dark and dangerous. Just enough to make my stomach tighten. His eyes are different now. Focused. Predatory. His gaze sends a shiver sliding down my spine. It’s menacing and terrifying and I should get out of this room, but a small, traitorous part of me enjoys it. I refuse to look away.

The silence stretches between us. Then he stands and I immediately regret leaning over the desk. He’s towering over me, and this study suddenly feels much smaller.

My heartbeat stumbles, and I hate that he notices.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Are you afraid of me, Rayne?”