Page 30 of King of War

She shakes her head. “I’m saying that’s what he would have done, but that isn’t you.”

My hand wraps around her throat. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t have it in me to kill you, Rayne,” I snarl, teeth bared, anger clouding my senses.

My body wants her with a need that repulses me. I hate her. I hate what she did. I hate that my hands still remember how to touch her. I hate that even now, with fury burning through my veins, some depraved part of me is thinking about how close she is, how fast she’s breathing, how her skin heats beneath my hand.

She doesn’t flicker, doesn’t flinch, intimately familiar with this monster inside me. The one she used to be so easily able to tame. “Oh, I know you could kill me, Enzo. But you’d do it in a fit of rage or passion, not because it was the rational choice.”

How do I begin to deny the truth of that when I’m acting the way I am, my hand on her neck and seconds away from either snapping it or fucking her where she stands. I hate that she still knows me. Not the man I try to be, but the one I actually am.

I take a beat, count to five, and let her go. “Just put some fucking clothes on,” I bark.

I’m walking down the hallway when she calls after me. “I don’t have any clean, jackass!”

Chapter

Twelve

RAYNE

Being cooped up in this penthouse with only Enzo for company is torture. It only took me half a day to contact my clients and cancel the half a dozen engagements I have coming up in the next month. Aside from one client who threatened to sue me for every cent I have, the others were fairly understanding of my family emergency. And I did pass on the name of some great photographers who I know have space to fit them in, so I didn’t leave anyone high and dry.

The occasions are a good side hustle, even if they’re not my favorite way to spend time. Given my dislike of both crowds and parties, it was an odd profession for me to go into, but it allows me to indulge in my passion for photography. One to two events a week makes enough money to supplement my income from sales of my work in a local art store.

Aside from that, I’ve had little to do. It’s been four days now, and Enzo has been insufferably annoying for all of them. So goddamn arrogant and self-righteous when he has no damn clue. I actually came close to telling him the truth about what happened six years ago earlier, just to stop him looking at me like that. Then I remembered how hard I tried to tell him the truth back then. How he looked at me with that same disdain six years ago and swore he’d never believe anything I said ever again. So what would be the point? If Oscar and Joseph were in possession of that video, then Enzo and his brothers will find it. Then I will walk out of here with my head held high. I know it will hurt him, but it seems like it’s also the only way he’ll ever let me go. And I do need to go. As small as my life in San Francisco is, it’s still mine.

In the meantime, I’m stuck here with nothing to do but read and do a little yoga, which is kind of nice in small doses, although I’d never admit that to him. At least he ordered in some groceries, so now there is actual food to eat and not just steak, eggs, and protein bars. I’m fixing myself an afternoon snack of fruit and cookies—because I’m all about balance—when he saunters into the kitchen like he owns the place. I mean, he does, but still. He doesn’t have to be so annoying about it.

He pours himself a glass of water and then sits at the counter watching me, no doubt judging my food choices. Enzo has always kept himself in good shape, but now he seems to have even more muscles and zero body fat, which was very apparent when he was standing shirtless in the hallway the other night chatting to his date. And his defined abs weren’t the only thing apparent. Stop it, Rayne. We do not think about sociopathic, rage-aholic mob bosses that way, no matter how hot they are nor how skilled with their fingers.

I plaster a fake, sweet smile on my face and spin to face him. “Is there a reason you’re staring at me like that? Other than the obvious?”

“The obvious being how much I hate and distrust you?”

“No, I was referring to how your dick gets hard every time I’m anywhere near you.”

He glances down. “My dick’s not hard.”

Oh, he makes this far too easy. “Did you actually have to look to check if you’re hard? Have you lost all feeling down there through lack of use or something?”

“It gets plenty of use.”

“I’m sure it does.” I make a jerking-off motion with my hand, even though I’m one hundred percent certain Enzo fucks any woman he wants to when he wants to, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that aloud.

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

“Oh, I know how much you’d like to, but it’s never happening,” I say, even if that’s a pity. He does know many ways to bring a woman pleasure, and he’s damn good at it. But no amount of mind melting orgasms would be worth letting him near me.

“You really think I’d touch you? I don’t like used goods.”

I snort a laugh. “Vanessa a virgin then, is she?”

He closes his eyes and clears his throat, like he’s reining in his temper. When he opens them again he seems much calmer. Maybe he really has matured these past few years. “Tell me more about this video.”

The words are like a punch to my stomach. My hands tremble so much that I have to put the plate down on the counter. Obviously, he notices.

“I know what’s on it, Rayne,” he says with a sigh. “This isn’t about making you feel shitty for your choices. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. The sooner I do that, the sooner you can leave.”

Choices! That’s laughable. “So today you’re going to let me leave? The other day you were keeping me prisoner here forever.”