"Don't be ridiculous!" I cut him off. "It's all because of that thing you gave me to drink!" I say accusatorily, stopping to think about the date. They say witchcraft is most potent during a solstice or equinox. I'd once read a text about a witch performing her evil magic on All Saints Eve, creating a pagan circle with the devil and engaging in fornication.
"It's called champagne."
"Aha! I knew it! It messed with my head. Did you plan that all along?" I narrow my eyes at him.
Enzo Agosti... He's dangerous. More dangerous than I thought he'd be.
"Of course it messed with your head! You got drunk," he tries to explain, but I'm not having it.
I've seen the guards drunk before. I've even seen how some villagers are when they'd imbibed enough, and none of them had turned into a wanton mess. They'd been sloppy and disoriented, their speech slow and slurred. But they hadn't taken their clothes off and asked for the devil to have his way with them.
"I don't believe you!" I reply, maintaining my theory about the potion. It's the only viable explanation.
"Allegra," he shakes his head, his eyes crinkling around the corners, the green of his irises glinting in the fresh daylight and making him entirely too appealing.
God! Is this permanent?
"For all your intelligence, you're too quick to believe in witchcraft. I thought you were more sensible than that."
"Stay away," I hold my fingers in position, the cross meant to keep the devil away.
"Witchcraft is very real! It's been documented for centuries." Put off by his mocking smile, I start listing all reputable sources that mention magic, starting from ancient texts to more modern ones. "I've read about testimonials, you know. The occult is real and dangerous, and I demand you undo whatever spell you've put on me."
"Allegra," he takes a step towards me, and I prepare to run. "There's no spell, you have my word." He plants himself in front of me, his finger coming down on my chest, brushing past my nipple.
That's when I realize two things.
I've been arguing with him naked; and my nipples stiffen under his touch, a shiver going down my spine and making me even hotter.
My eyes widen, and I set my deadly gaze on him.
"It's your body's natural reaction, little tigress," he lowers his head, bringing his eyes on the same level as mine.
"And it only means one thing." He doesn't elaborate, leaving the room instead.
But he knows I'll fill in the blanks.
I want him.
Damn! Why couldn't it have been magic? At least then I wouldn't have been a willing participant.
Sighing deeply, I lower myself to the bed, an expression of desolation enveloping my features.
This is it... The beginning of the end.
ANA ASSURES ME THAT Lucia is out with her friends, so I take advantage of this to get out of the room. It's not often that she's out of the house, and sometimes I prefer staying in my room just so I can avoid a confrontation.
I go straight to the library, hoping to put Enzo out of my mind. Closing the door behind me, I release a disappointed sigh.
"Aren't you supposed to be at work or something?" I ask when I see him lounging in his chair, reading the newspaper. He's always gone from the house around this time, so it's a surprise to see him here.
Damn it!
He's the last person I wanted to see — after Lucia.
"Have you had time to calm down, little tigress, or are you here to pick a fight again?" He lowers the newspaper to regard me amused, a smile threatening to overtake his whole face.
"Couldn't you have been an ogre," I mutter under my breath. If he'd been truly awful to me, maybe I could hate him wholeheartedly. I don't like that I'm wavering in my conviction.
"What was it that you said?" His eyebrows shoot up, but I just shake my head and pick up a random book, ready to leave.
"No, no, no," he waves a finger at me as if I were a child. "You can't take a book out. If you want to read it, you do it here."
I tilt my head to the side, annoyed at this sudden rule. But I can't blame him if he wants to be extra careful with his books. I look at the copy in my hands, debating if I should stay and read or just leave.
I won't let him bully me.
With a resounding humph, I plop myself in the chair, cracking open the book and starting to read.
It's only when his chuckling intensifies that I look up.
"What?" The word comes out a little brusque. He stands up, coming to sit on the armrest of my chair, staring down into my book.
"I see you're not afraid to fall under my spell anymore," he mocks me.
I close the book and lay it next to me, turning so I can look him in the eye.
"You took advantage of my inebriated state," I accuse.
"Oh, now you admit you were just drunk, not bespelled," his lip is quivering with amusement, and it only serves to make me angrier.
"Why do you enjoy tormenting me so?" I ask him, my expression serious. Sometimes I find myself exhausted by our interactions.
"Because you're so easily riled up," he surprises me by moving to the floor, in front of me. One hand goes to my face, brushing my hair to the side. "Why do you enjoy always going against me?" He retaliates with a question of his own.
"Because victory is sweet." I push my chin up, ready not to show any weakness.
"You know," he starts, his hand still on my face and trailing softly down my neck. It's like something inside of me ignites at this mere gesture.
My God! Did my body break?
"Submitting is not losing. You'll find that the end result can be much sweeter... like last night," he says suggestively, licking his lips. My eyes zone in on his mouth, and images from last night assault both my mind and my body.
His hand continues to leave a blazing trail in its wake, going lower — until I catch it.
"Stop that," I whisper, my voice lacking conviction.
"Why must you fight me tooth and nail?" The playfulness is gone, his tone serious.
And so I answer him truthfully for the first time.
"Because it's the only thing I can control," my voice is small as I admit this, and his eyes darken. I look away, not wanting him to see the vulnerability reflected in my gaze.
"Allegra," his hand is gentle on my jaw as he coaxes me to look at him, "what do you mean?"
All pretense is gone, and for the first time I feel like he might take me seriously. I take a deep breath.
"You have no idea what it's like to grow up away from bad influences, because only then you'd be pure enough for your future husband. To have someone restrict the way you dress, eat, and even think. You want to know why everyone was making fun of my accent? Because I've never had a proper lesson of English in my life. Everything I learned was by reading — and even that was forbidden to me. My parents wanted to mold me into the perfect bride — biddable and ignorant."
"They clearly didn't succeed," Enzo adds under his breath, and I slap away his hand. "Sorry," he says, but he doesn't seem in the least apologetic.
"I've never been allowed to do what I want."
Enzo looks pensive for a moment before asking.
"Then why were you so put off that you married me instead of Franzè? It's not as if he would have given you any freedom."
"Because at least then it wouldn't have all been for nothing!" The words are spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them. "At least I'd have my parents' approval."
"You do realize that nothing you could have done would have gained you their approval. God, Allegra, they only wanted to use you. Do you think they would have done anything the minute they saw your bruised and battered body — because trust me, Franzè is the furthest thing from a gentle man." I recognize the truth in his words, but it doesn't make it better.
"So I should just thank you, that's it, right?" I laugh drily. He still doesn't get it.
"I'm not your enemy, Allegra. I never was."
"Really?" I lean back, arching an eyeb
row at him, "Then it seems we're at an impasse."
"Our world doesn't allow for many freedoms, especially for women. But I'm not your parents, nor am I Franzè. I don't want you to starve yourself and neither do I want to restrict your thoughts — I happen to like them," he gives me a slight smile, "we're in the same camp now, and for better or for worse, we are tied together forever."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it," I grumble, my reserve of arguments depleting by the second.
"No, but maybe we can make the best out of it. So as a peace offering, tell me, what do you want?"
I stare at him, my mind suddenly freezing.
What do I want?
"I..." I start panicking. I have my bucket list, right? Going to the opera, to a museum, driving a car, eating everything I want... so many things, why can't I pick just one?
"Let's do it this way," Enzo takes my hands in his, his eyes focused on mine, "every day we'll do something new, something you want. How does that sound?" It's like he's reading my mind, realizing that there are so many things I want to do I can't just choose one.
"Ok," I nod slowly, a little shocked by the outcome of our conversation. At best, I thought I'd scream some more insults at him, and at worst that I'd tackle him to the ground.
"Good," he stands up, and he does another thing that surprises me to my core. He kisses my forehead.
I watch in awe as he gets back to his study, picking up his newspaper again and reading, as if nothing happened. As if he didn't just turn my entire world upside down.
Dangerous. He's dangerous, and not only to my body, but to my heart as well.
I don't want to like him, because he represents everything I hate about this world. But why can't I bring myself to hate him?
Because he doesn't fit inside the box.
Enzo can be cruel and overbearing one moment, but kind and gentle the next. There's a duality in him that makes little sense.
You want to figure him out.
No! I most certainly do not. I try to shove my inner voice out of the way. It's better if I stay detached. Even when he looks at me with those sexy eyes...
I shake my head, trying to dispel those thoughts. It won't do me any good to dwell on them.
Picking up the book, I focus on reading again. At some point I doze off, because when I wake up it's already dark outside.
I stretch a little and a blanket falls from my body.
"Rise and shine, little tigress," Enzo greets me, moving a table full of food in front of my chair.
"For me?" I ask softly as I take in everything on the table. It's a feast worthy of a queen.
"Eat," he urges me, but I'm already ahead of him, stuffing my mouth with the hot buns. "Hey, easy, no one's taking it away from you," he tries to reassure me, but I'm past the stopping point now.
Not when his mother had made sure I get only the bare minimum to survive.
"Easy," his hand strokes my hair softly as he watches me eat with gusto.
"Thank you," I manage to say in between bites. Now that the initial reaction is wearing off, I remember that time in Agrigento and how I'd been sick afterwards. And it would be a pity to waste this food...
I slow down, but still don't stop.
"Why are you smiling?" I frown as I catch him staring at me.
"I enjoy watching you eat," he answers, and for a moment I wonder if this was supposed to be for the both of us. My eyes widen in fear — the prospect of having to share my food terrifying me.
He notices my reaction because he quickly amends that it's only for me.
My lips spread in a smile.
"You can have this. Only this." I reluctantly push the last bun towards him.
His eyebrows shoot up at my offering, but he doesn't refuse it. I continue eating, but I also watch him slowly bite into the bun, his mouth fitting itself around it.
I still, mouth agape, and I watch the eroticism of that small gesture. It reminds me of last night, the way he also feasted on...
"Careful," he says, his hand catching the bit of food falling out of my mouth.
Well, if he wasn't disgusted by me before... he sure is now.
THE NEXT DAY, I TRY to find a good outfit for what Enzo has planned. I'd woken up to a note next to me, where he'd detailed what he had in mind for today — teaching me how to drive. I'd told him some of the things I'd always wanted to do, but for all his sweet talk I hadn't considered that he might indulge me. Especially after I'd closed the door to the room in his face the other night.
We might just be starting to get along, but I won't give in to him just because of that.
I find a pair of pants that seems acceptable, and I add a sweater on since it's quite cold outside. When I feel ready, I leave the room, heading down to where Enzo is waiting for me at his car.
As I'm about to exit the house, I bump into Lucia, and my day immediately sours.
I try to ignore her as I pass by, but she grabs on to my hand, her mouth close to my ear.
"You're not the first one he's gotten off in that bed," she smirks at me, an insidious smile that makes me ill. Pushing me off, she leaves, her words still reeling in my ear.
What is she talking about? How does she even know?
I walk absentmindedly to the front of the house where Enzo is already waiting for me.
I look up at him. He's wearing a pair of black jeans and a navy blue knitted sweater. Even in my muddled state I can agree that Enzo has a dreamy physique. His muscles are bulging even through the thick material of the sweater, his shoulders broad and tapering into a small waist. And then there are his thighs... My gaze follows the natural contour of his body, and I swallow hard.
You're not the first one he's gotten off in that bed.
"Done staring?" The corner of his mouth pulls up, and he opens the door for me to step in the driver's seat.
I don't even reply, his mother's words playing in my mind on repeat.
What did she mean?
"Allegra!" Enzo's words finally register. He's frowning at me and I try to shake off my doubts.
For once, I don't want to argue.
"Are you scared? It's not too hard..." he explains what I have to do, detailing every step. I will myself to focus, nodding along.
"Thank you," I add when he's finished, and he regales me with one of those wicked smiles of his.
Damn! Why is my heart going crazy?
I clear my throat, trying to seem unaffected. Ever since that night, I find myself having very dirty thoughts whenever I see him.
Ok, even when I'm alone, but they are more intense when he's next to me.
Before, I'd tried very hard to disregard his perfectly chiseled looks, or how a small dimple forms when he smiles, or even how his eyes seem to sparkle when he finds something amusing, the green of his irises becoming deeper, more striking.
Now? I can barely take my eyes off his hands, with the way his veins visibly protrude when he's flexing his muscles, the slight indentation making me clench my thighs together, the memory from before still fresh. Those very hands had stroked and caressed me in places I'd had no idea could be touched like that. And somehow he'd stoked a fire in me that threatens to become an inferno.
God!
I blink twice, aware he's been saying something this whole time and I've just been staring at his hands, thinking how it would feel like to have his fingers inside of me again...
"Yes!" I blurt out, my eyes wide at the direction of my thoughts. Wanton, I'm becoming wanton. And the knowing smirk that appears on his face makes me suspect he knows exactly what I'd been thinking of.
"And you grip it tightly, wrapping your hand around the head," he continues and I just nod, lost again in his eyes.
"Let's see what you've got." That comes out of nowhere, and I look at him in surprise.
I scramble in my seat, putting on the seatbelt, and then I try to remember some of the things he'd been saying. Luckily, he lists his instructions again, and I follow.
My foot on the cl
utch, I put the car into the first gear, watching in awe as it starts moving. I steer it towards the gates, and soon we're on the road.
"Gentle with the clutch," Enzo comments, his gaze focused on the road, "now shift into the second."
I do what he says, and as I speed I even manage to put it in the third gear.
"Wow!" I exclaim as I feel the adrenaline rushing through me.
"Easy, let's not get too overconfident." Enzo notes when my foot pushes a little too hard on the gas pedal.
"This is..." I trail off, words failing me. I feel tears accumulating in the corner of my eyes, overwhelmed by feelings of freedom.
"I know," Enzo quirks a smile, and I return it sheepishly before resuming my gaze to the road.
Out of nowhere though, something appears in my field of vision and I panic, hitting both the clutch and the brake at the same time. It's so sudden, I don't know exactly what happens, but one moment we're going at full speed, and the next the car stops and I'm flung forward, the seat belt the only thing keeping me from a full on collision with the steering wheel.
"Fuck!" I hear Enzo exclaim, but my whole body is still in shock, barely moving.
"Little tigress? Allegra?" His words register in my brain, but it's like I can't reply. He gets out of his seat, coming around to open my door and undo my seatbelt. I'm trembling at this point, and he takes me in his arms, hugging me to his chest.
"Shh," he strokes my hair with one hand, the other arm wrapped tightly around my waist. "We're fine. Nothing happened." His voice is so soft, so gentle, and I peer at him through tear-streaked lashes, trying to get some words out.
"Don't speak," he whispers in my ear, followed by more words of assurance.
A minute passes, and I find the strength to fist the material of his sweater in my hands. Raising my head, I meet his eyes and see genuine worry in them.
He cares.
It might be just an act, and if that's so then he's a brilliant actor.
But as I see the unmistakable affection in his gaze, I do the thing that comes most naturally to me — I push my lips into his for a kiss.
He's startled at first, but his lips mold to mine perfectly, his mouth opening over mine and deepening the kiss.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 17