Page 36 of Bad Little Bride

The next morning,my ass no sooner drops into the seat beside his at the head of the table when my mouth opens. “I want a phone, and I want it today.”

Enzo’s hand freezes, tapping several extrah’s to whatever word he was trying to spell on his tablet. Slowly, he sets it down, blacking out the screen as he faces me.

“Don’t say excuse me or come again or ask me to repeat myself when you heard me loud and clear.” I take the whipped cream dispenser and squirt a hefty amount, followed by my beloved caramel. “My dad is alive, says you. My sister is where she belongs, according to you.”

Rather than speak, Enzo reaches beside him, coming back with a small white gift bag he sets on the tabletop. On the opposite side of which I’m sitting.

The giant apple with a small bite out of it in the center of the gift bag leaves no room for speculation of what’s inside.

My eyes dart to his, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s lifting a perfectly square waffle from the giant stack before us, setting it in the center of my plate. Next, he takes two stemless strawberries from the fruit bowl, slicing them longways on his own plate, and scrapes them on top of the giant carb. He doesn’t stop there, snagging the whipped cream from me and adding a heavy dollop in the center.

He fills his plate—sausage and eggs again, surprise, surprise. Only once he’s satisfied with the food before him, does he pin those eyes on me.

Realization dawns and I gape at him. “Are you serious?”

“Do you know me as a man who jokes?”

“I know you even less than I assumed I did.”

At that, a heavy scowl falls over him. “What does that mean?”

“It means you are a man of many secrets, Enzo Fikile.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “And you are my wife, which means you are now privy to all of them.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Because if I asked him about Katana he would answer honestly.

He lifts a sharp brow. “You doubt me?”

“I would have to trust you to doubt you, which I do not.”

“You trusted me enough to trap yourself on an island in the middle of the Pacific with me.”

“That wasn’t trust. That was a pitiful attempt of self-salvation.”

“You trusted me enough to move into my home without your security detail.”

“A hazard of my last point.”

“I’m not sure you made one.”

“Well then, let me make one now.” I slap my hands on the edge of the table, rising but keeping my face in his. “You wereright, I’m not a doll, which means myownerdoesn’t get to decide what I eat. I am not a dog, so I don’t do tricks for treats. And I am not your prisoner, so I will not stay locked up in this fucking house while you are off playing bodyguard. I might not have much of one, but if you think you are going to control every aspect of my life, you’re wrong.”

Enzo shoots to his feet, his chair toppling over behind him as he too gets in my face, but I don’t back down.

“I want to talk to my sister.”

“Try again.”

“You can’t keep me?—”

“I said,” he shouts, cutting me off, his voice lower when he continues. “Try. Again.”

My eyes narrow and he levels me with a hard look, one that confuses me. It’s sharp and angry, but behind the harsh lines and clenched jaw is a glint of something else. A challenge.

Unsure, yet somehow completely certain, I do as he demanded. I try again.

“I amgoingto talk to my sister.”

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