Page 15 of Bad Little Bride

Enzo, reaching across me to tug the pile of baked goods closer, moves a few things around until he finds what he was looking for, setting a strawberry muffin and strawberry bagel onto my plate.

I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, focusing on the sting there so my cheeks don’t turn an embarrassing shade of pink at being treated like a child in front of the woman who so clearly views me as one.

Ignoring everything he gave me, I force myself to eat another piece of fruit, staring longingly at my mug. It’s no longer piping hot the way I like it, but chilled and drowning in melted whipped cream. Further proving that my server is in tune with his position, he steps from the kitchen just then, a fresh cappuccino in his hands.

He lowers it before me, turning the handle so it faces me perfectly, and moves the Whip Tech within reach of my dominant hand—another thing he must have picked up on.

“My savior.” I smile at his back. “Thank?—”

“You’re fired.”

I jolt, my head lashing toward Enzo.

He stares at me coldly, anger and annoyance in his gaze. In the same second, the doors behind me are thrown open, and I glance over my shoulder.

Two guards step in, their black bandanas slung low over their noses. My server steps up to them, pulls the matching one from around his face, exposing himself for the first time, and hands it to the first, silently falling into the middle of the man-muscle sandwich. They lead him from the room without a word.

I gape at the empty exit, my mouth open and ready to say, I don’t know what. What the fuck just happened feels about right, but I don’t get the chance to speak.

Enzo shoots to his feet, charging off in the opposite direction.

“Ann-Marie!” he barks.

Just like that, the woman follows after him, and I’m left alone at the breakfast table.

Anger brews low in my belly and I slap my hand on the tabletop, glaring at the doors he just walked through.

I have no words for how this morning has gone, but I’ll be damned if I sit around as if hoping he’ll come back.

I didn’t even know he was going to be here in the first fucking place.

What I hope is that he chokes on his next meal, especially if his next meal is her.

I don’t wait forGrandma—that is officially her name since she didn’t warn me this was a three-way breakfast when I have no doubt she was aware—to collect me again today, but calmly step up to the sealed double doors and wait to see if they open.

They do, so I head back to my jail cell of my own accord, and somehow manage not to slam the door once inside.

I kick my flats off, shove the chair against the wall, roll the rug up and scoot the vanity closer to the window. I shove the pants from my body, leaving me in the bodysuit, and step into the center of the clear space.

Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths, allowing my muscles to relax before straightening my shoulders. Starting with the opening chords of Mickey Valen and Joey Myron’s “Chills”, the dark version, I play the melody from memory in my head, moving my body to the beat.

I do it over and over and over again.

I don’t stop until my spine burns, spasming, and sends me crashing to the floor.

I cry out slightly, staying there long after I should before slowly climbing to my feet and wincing my way to the tub, turning the water as hot as it will go.

It’s going to sting, but only for a moment.

I’m slick with sweat, muscles aching as I strip the sticky top from my body, easing into the burning water.

“Ah,” I hiss, clenching my teeth on the way in.

Once I’m submerged, my shoulders lower and a small smile finds my lips.

That’s better.

Just as my mind settles and my muscles ease, a throat clears behind me.

---