Page 57 of Bad Little Bride

His face becomes devoid of all emotions. “Our job here is not done, Boston. You go home when I do.” He stomps angrily for the door.

“You mean when we go home.”

He pauses, looking back with a frown of confusion, but it only holds for a second before he understands what I mean.

It’s not just us. It’s me and him andher.

I don’t know what I expect him to say, maybe nothing, but instead he hits me with, “Her presence goes without saying.” His eyes grow cold. “She’s family, remember? And family sticks together.”

The metaphorical key in my back has officially broken through the bone, reaching the other side.

Family sticks together yet my mother was murdered, I have a brother my father threw away, and a husband with an ex-wife he not only won’t let go of, but wants to show off…

Enzo reaches out, gently gripping my hair and laying it over my shoulder, his knuckles following its length to the very tips.

“The black market would pay heavily for a heart as hard as yours.”

“I’m aware, Little Bride. I’m aware.”

Chapter

Thirteen

Boston

By the timewe get home, the anger and frustration has boiled over inside me; my mind has fallen into a blanket of numbness, nothing but the throb of my feet to be felt, the skin torn, bloody, and bruised.

Still, I don’t stop. I throw my body into overdrive and leap higher than I should, spin more than normal, and I allow my right foot to bear the weight of my body as I dip at the waist, whirling until my hand is sweeping across the floor.

As I come back up, my spine spasms and I jolt, falling over and hitting my hip on the hard floor. I hiss when my big toe slams into the wooden post of the bed.

“Dammit!” I swiftly sit up and tug my foot into my lap. I don’t have a single pair of pointe shoes, and I’m tearing my feet up more and more every day. The whole insisting I wear heels only makes it worse. So much worse.

Sure, I could likely ask for what I need, but Enzo likes to claim he knows me so well and these two key pieces—music and pointe shoes—are proof he does not.

I’m fully aware holding on to that is childish and does nothing but hurt myself, and I don’t care. There’s some sort of satisfaction that comes with knowing he’s wrong and thinks he’s right.

Sighing, I drop my head back, hating the feeling of my long hair sticking to my back, but I couldn’t be bothered with taking the time to tie it up.

I did strip from my dress, though, putting on the stupid bodysuit that’s intended to be a top but is all this place has to offer as far as an acceptable uniform, and started dancing to the hum of the music in my mind.

A slight breeze sweeps through the window, and I clench my eyes closed.

“I don’t want to be here,” I whisper to myself. I want to take it all back.

The fundraiser was a disaster and not something I want to repeat.

I want to return to Greyson Manor, even if I’m only allowed to stay in the basement level with my sister’s little helpers. Hell, I’ll move into the dorms at Greyson Elite if I have to. Anything is better than sharing a house with a man I’m married to and the girl whose spot I’ve taken.

At the dinner, Katana sat on Enzo’s left, mirroring my place beside him, and did her best to ignore me. The only positive point was when Enzo confiscated my steak knife the moment it was lowered before me, and she jerked in her seat, clearly understanding why he felt the need to do so.

She’s in her right mind to be scared.

There’s no telling if I might have used it or not, but I one hundred percent would have been tempted.

God, the night was a bust. A waste of energy and an eye-opener.

I fucked up, letting the words he spoke get to me, the glam squad and champagne only adding to my moment of mental weakness.

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