Page 75 of Bad Little Bride

“If I didn’t say anything, you would have eaten more. Grow up and eat the damn food.”

“Get over yourself, Enzo.” I sigh, sitting back in my seat. “This caveman ‘must feed woman’ act is old already.”

“It will be old when I’m dead and will only get worse the longer you continue to eat like a bird.”

“Just trying to manage the expectation.”

“Expectation?” His tone is clipped.

“You know, be pretty and plastic andpetite.”

His brows snap together. “I want none of those things.”

I raise a challenging brow. “You don’t want me to be pretty?”

“That is an irrelevant part of the equation.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you are far from pretty. You’re beauty personified. Perfection that cannot be bought.”

I scoff a laugh and his eyes narrow to slits.

“What’s so funny?” he bites, annoyance rising.

“Uh, you literallyboughtme, Enzo. That’s what’s funny.”

“I simply made sure the woman I wanted was mine.”

A small frown builds along my forehead at his choice of words. “Exactly. You paid for me. I’m no different than the wine in this glass.” I swirl my cup. “An expensive, bitter bitch that gets the job done but doesn’t live up to the hype the dollar suggests.”

Enzo stays perfectly still for several long moments, his eyes drilling into mine with each passing second. When he speaks, it’s with a sharp, dark assurance. A warning and a promise in one. “You are not a list of check-marked boxes. You are the manual expectancies are born from. The reason the list exists in the first place. The top of the pyramid. La crème de la crème. There is nothing for you to live up to.” He leans forward in his seat then, snaring me with his intensity. “There is everyone else…and then there is you.”

My heart dares to flutter in my chest. Pulsing as if woken with a newly born energy, a thrill that shouldn’t be there but demands to be when a man like this one speaks of me in such a manner. I force myself not to swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. For two beats, I simply stare at Enzo, a strange spinning in my stomach I can’t fight.

My entire life I’ve been compared to my sister, my twin, and never once was I the favored one, yet here he is putting me on a pedestal in the clouds. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck tingle, creating a wave-like effect.

It’s not until a strange softness falls over him, as if he’s inside me and knows exactly what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, that I get my shit together, remembering this is but an arrangement and he’s likely a liar.

I lift a single shoulder with more effort than it should take to do so. “So, you’re saying I’m living up to what you envisioned?”

That softness is gone in a flash, anger and maybe a hint of frustration slipping over his features. “You know what, no. I guess you’re not.”

Before I can stop it, my head tugs back, his words a contradiction of what he’d just said…not that I believed his pretty explanation. All pretty things are lies.

Look at my life.

Enzo eyes me with sharp regard. “Perhaps I should remind you of the terms of our contract.”

My spine steels, further slapping me into the correct headspace. “I’m fully aware of every word written.”

“Are you sure?” He sits back, his tone mocking.

“Considering I drafted it, yes. I am.” I glare. “So, if you have a point, make it.”

“I don’t think I need to. You’re a brilliant woman—another reason why I wanted you—you can figure it out.”

“You didn’t want me, Enzo. I picked you, and I don’t care to figure it out. If I’m falling short, then perhaps weshouldreview the contract. How about we start with the revision that needs to be made?”

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