Page 35 of Beautiful Enemy

I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Then do that.”

With more grumbling, Sampson sticks the finger in a cooler on ice and hands it to me. “There. Now, we’re even. I’m done.”

“No. We’re not done. We’re only done when I say we’re done and I might have more use for you. I might not. But that’s the beauty of this relationship. You never know when I’ll need you.”

“You’re the devil,” he growls.

“At least it’s warm in hell.” I wink before whistling as I walk away, carrying the dead finger of some innocent girl.

Anya

A package arrives on our doorstep.

It’s from an unknown sender and I immediately know it has to be from Dante.

“Erik!”

He comes running and stops in the doorway when he sees the package. “It could be a bomb.”

“Or it could be…”

He sighs. “Let me handle this.” Gently, he picks it up and walks outside. “In case it’s a bomb. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” He opens the package and tenses.

“Well, is it a bomb?”

I can tell by Erik’s face that it’s not, which doesn’t bring me any comfort. Because that means…

“Let me see.” I rush over to him and look inside.

It’s a woman’s finger.

“It’s Nadia’s,” I whisper. Any hope I might have had has been completely dashed.

Chapter Seven

Nadia

The cold at night seeps into every fiber of my being. The blanket barely helps. As the night wears on, I struggle to even feel my toes. I didn’t realize just how much warmth my dress gave me until it’s gone.

Shivers wrack my body. I try my best to curl my toes into the crook of my legs but it’s hopeless. I can’t get warm.

And when morning comes, I know I’m sick. My body is fatigued, despite the food I’ve been given. My head feels stuffed. This basement is going to slowly kill me and Dante doesn’t even seem to care. He hasn’t come to check on me since yesterday when he took my dress from me.

Matteo comes down with another plate of food – this time scrambled eggs.

He stops when he sees me shivering on the mattress. “Nadia?”

“I don’t feel good,” I mumble.

He touches my forehead. “You’re burning up. I think you might have a fever.”

“I’m so cold and hot.” I can’t feel my toes but my face is on fire.

“Shit. Ok. Uh… I’ll go get Dante.”

I don’t even feel relief at Matteo’s worry. It doesn’t matter that he’s showing a small ounce of kindness towards me. Dante hates me and that’s all that matters.

He’s doing this to me. He’s slowly killing me.

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