Bad Little Bride

“You’re staring.”

“I told you. I’ve been staring at you for months, longer if you count before we met.”

A strange sensation bubbles in my stomach at his words, so I look away as I pull my silk robe closed tighter and climb up on the stool of the kitchen island. “Not that I believe you, but if that is true, it’s called stalking.”

“It’s called obsession and I’ve been living with it since I saw you take the stage at the Galileo Arts Center.”

My eyes snap up just as he turns, moving to the long counter at the back of the kitchen like nothing, as if he didn’t just drop a bomb as casual as a fucking hi, how are you?

“That was, what, over two years ago?”

“Mmhm.” He nods, his tapered figure hiding whatever it is he’s doing over there. “It was a Friday and you wore a red sequined outfit, with little black stringy things dangling down your thighs.”

I did?

“Red lips and a red flower in your hair to match,” he keeps going.

“I didn’t even have a solo for that event,” I remember. “It was a group number with the rest of the dance team at Greyson Prep. I was one of, what, twelve?”

“No clue.” He shrugs, finally coming back this way with his hands full. “I only saw you.”

“My sister was there,” I throw out in a rush.

Enzo glances up from his pile of, I don’t know, kitchen shit, and raises a brow. “As I said, all I saw was you.”

“She looks just like me. You could have seen her⁠—”

“It wasn’t and no, she doesn’t.”

My head tugs back at his denial. “We’re identical.”

“Not to me you’re not.”

I cross my arms, getting flustered but not understanding why. “So, you’re saying you could tell us apart if we tried to trick you?”

“In a heartbeat. Likely even with my eyes closed now that my body knows yours.” He looks up again and I bug my eyes at him bratty-like, making him laugh.

How can someone be both irritated and giddy at the same time, because I’m pretty sure I’m both of those things. It’s like he’s telling me what I didn’t know I needed to hear but the part of me that forever pales in comparison is refusing to accept his words at face value.

He explained a little before but it’s like he thinks telling me this is a basic admission, when it’s an all-access pass.

This man I thought I was selling myself to wasn’t just a potential buyer I tracked down, but rather a man on the hunt with one particular prey in mind.

Me.

At my prolonged silence, he looks up, tipping his head slightly. “What?”

“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

“You doubt my fixation?” he questions with a hint of humor, unaware of where my mind had taken me. “I am completely obsessed with you, Little Bride, and now that I know what you look like taking my cock, sound like when taking my cock, smell like when⁠—”

“Okay.” I laugh, watching as he grabs a tray stacked with small containers and brings it over to the space beside the stove. “I get it. Me, plus your cock, equals a pleased Enzo.”

Enzo chuckles, turning a knob, and I frown when fire sparks to life along the stove.

His eyes flick up to mine, and the delight in his gaze doubles. “Never seen a stove before?”

I don’t feel like admitting I’ve never actually touched one, though I’m sure he assumes as much. Daughters of rich, prestigious criminals don’t typically have to get their hands dirty.

Well, with a literal home mess. With blood or filthy scheming? Couple times a day on a good day.

“Never expected you to know your way around one, that’s for sure.”

His grin widens and I can’t handle it. I have to look away, instead focusing on his hands as he speaks. “You do remember I was poor as a kid? Didn’t even have a working stove most my life.”

I prop my chin on my palm. “I guess I forget that. You don’t carry yourself like⁠—”

“Like a kid from the gutter?” he teases himself. “You might also forget most of my teenage years were spent in juvenile hall. Not much to do there but educate myself or fuck up even more. I knew what I wanted when I was finally free to make it happen, so I chose the first. Sometimes all I could get my hands on were encyclopedias or dictionaries.”

“You would read the dictionary?”

“If it was all I could get, yes.”

“No wonder you find my kind of books fascinating,” I tease.

He tosses his head back, letting out a full belly laugh, and goddamn it, mine does a little flip.

Enzo sets a small pot on the stove, and I watch as he begins melting a chunk of butter, swiftly adding a mini mountain of sugar.

“So, if you didn’t have a stove most of your life, how did you learn your way around one?”

He’s quiet a moment before answering. “I earned kitchen duty my last two years of lockup, but admittedly there wasn’t much time around the stove.” He looks up briefly. “Couldn’t have us trying to burn the place down or sticking each other’s heads in the fire.”

“Fair.”

Enzo smiles, focus returning to his task at hand. “Come here, baby.”

I hesitate at first, continuing to watch as he grabs a metal hand tool that resembles the scalp treatment massager my old masseuse would use, and then go to him.

Instantly, he hauls me before him, blanketing my back with his chest and leaning over, taking a moment to simply brush his cheek along mine. It’s an intimate move, but I don’t pull away, instead embracing this unexpected time together.

“Take the whisk,” he whispers, his fingers sliding along my forearm until they’re wrapping around my own. “Just like that. Now, roll your wrist in a small circle.”

As he instructs, he shows me what he means, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes, settling into the warmth of his body.

“You enjoy being close to me,” he rasps.

It’s not a question, yet still I answer with a small shrug he feels more than sees. “I’ve…never had this sort of attention. It’s different than I’m used to.”

“It’s different because I feel for you.” His admission makes my throat run dry. “But you like this…”

This time, it’s less a statement, and a small smile graces my lips. “I don’t hate it.”

His hand drops from around me and I jump, laughing when he tickles my sides, spinning and inadvertently pressing my chest to his.

Sharp, deep hazel eyes lock onto mine, and the moment slows as he reaches up, pulling my hair forward, something he seems to do every time he’s close. “You’re a brat, Mrs. Fikile.”

Mrs. Fikile.

This man, he’s not just someone in my life here and now. We’re married.

He’s my husband, and not that he seemed to care about formalities, but we have now consummated our marriage. I’m officially, legally his.

He’s officially, legally mine.

I open my mouth, unsure what I’m about to say, but then a harsh scent tingles my senses, and my nose scrunches.

“It smells like…” I spin around, glaring down at the definitely burnt concoction in the pan. My brows pull, a frown settling over my face as I look back at him. When I speak, it’s with an accidental whisper. “Burnt caramel.”

Enzo holds my gaze, ignoring the ruins on the stove and reaching up to cup my cheeks, his thumb sliding along my bottom lip when it begins to tremble.

“Enzo, why does it smell like burnt caramel?”

“Because we got distracted and I burnt the caramel.”

“Why are you making caramel?”

A softness encases his harsh features, and he tips his head ever so slightly. “Is this the part where I tell you what you already know?”

“Yes.” I hold my breath.

His lips pull to one side in a soft smile and he pushes closer. “I got distracted by my bride and forgot to pay attention to the decadent drizzle she likes with her coffee. And I’ll answer the next question you’re about to ask. Yes, I make your caramel for you every morning and I have since a few short weeks into your very first stay here, before you left me, and since you came back. In case it’s not obvious with that, I will tell you, I have every intention of doing so every day I’m physically capable, and I plan for that to be decades upon decades of time.”

A sharp pain presses against my breastbone, my breaths growing shallow as I stare up at him because it’s not a pain or regret or rejection. Not at all.

“Decades upon decades,” I finally rasp. “That’s a lot of sugar…”

Enzo smiles. “We’ll buy a plantation.”

A puff of air, half laugh and half astonishment, slips past my lips and I swallow, my mind spinning.

That first morning we had breakfast together. He was watching me take my first taste, and I thought he was waiting to see if I would complain.

The spill on his shirt and syrupy smell that covered his skin the day Ann-Marie was here.

The servant, the one he fired without pause. The man had served me something my stranger of a husband took time to make for me, and he’d demanded no credit. Sure, he couldn’t handle my giving it to the man in question and fired him as a result, but still.

He made it for me and didn’t do it for the recognition, but because he wanted to be the one to make me something he knew I would enjoy.

“Have you always known how to make caramel?”

He shakes his head.

“You learned for me?”

He nods and a knot forms in my throat.

Afraid to know the answer but needing to hear it just the same, I whisper, “Why?”

He stares into my eyes with a warm intensity, the silence stretching between us, the caramel burning more and more and continuing to be completely ignored. “There aren’t a lot of things I can do that will mean much. Money is nothing, absence is inevitable, and expectation is high. There will be times when the safety of our empire forces me to let you down, and yes, when those trials pass, I’ll do all in my power to make it up to you, but along the way, through hardship and happiness, I’ll get a minute of meaning, even if it’s a small one. Each morning, when you wake, I get to give you something you love and look forward to, even when you dread the sight of me, and there will be days like that. But when your coffee is served, and your caramel is poured, a smile will cross your lips, erasing that anger or hatred for a single moment. And in that moment, every single day, I will live in your mind as something good. So I guess you could say it’s purely selfish on my part.”

My pulse stutters and restarts, jumping high then beating slow as my lips part without a word. Overcome, I shake my head, and when I do find my voice, it’s but a rough whisper. “No, Enzo. It’s not a small thing and it’s not selfish. Not even a little bit.”

His lips curve up then, and I can’t take it anymore.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my mouth to his.

He responds instantly, enveloping me in his arms. The kiss is long and languid, a slow, passionate dance of tongues, but I need more, and I know how to get it. I nip at his lip, and just like that, his palms glide down, squeezing my ass so hard I yelp into his mouth. He groans, his arm coming up, sending everything flying from the countertop in one swift swoop. Glass breaks behind us with a loud crash we both ignore as he hauls me up, spinning and growling…and then a throat clears in the entryway.

Enzo’s muscles lurch and my head snaps toward the door.

“Well.” Katana stands there with a glare, arms crossed over her chest. “Now I know why you didn’t come see me last night.”

This.

Bitch.

Enzo

Boston’s arms fall from around me, her body jerking in Katana’s direction, but I swiftly lock my arms along her middle, yanking her until her back hits my chest.

As quickly as I stop her advance, she seeks another option, her hand shooting out with lightning speed. She manages to close her fingers around the handle of the burning pot before I can stop her, but mine wrap around hers, keeping it locked in place as I press my lips to her ear. “Down, baby. She’s of no threat to you. No one is.”

Boston tenses, her muscles beginning to shake in the moment that follows, but with her next breath, she makes her decision.

She chooses to trust me, that perfect body of hers sinking into mine, but she doesn’t just let go of the burnt, smoking caramel. That would be too simple, and my bride is no simple woman.

Boston stretches her neck, her chest lifting with a heavy inhale as she bends one knee, almost as if bored. Katana’s eyes narrow, flicking across Boston’s body on display.

At some point, the tie to her gown came undone, the silk number separated and teasing the edge of her nipples, the left one fully exposed, the right caught on the hard, pebbled peak. My mouth waters as I stare down at the pink nub and I grind my teeth, needing to take it between them.

It’s not only her tits that are out, though, as my little bride seems to have an aversion to panties, much to my delight.

“Well.” Katana frowns, spotting the marks I’ve left all over my wife’s skin. “I see you’ve learned how rough he can be.”

Boston’s muscles lock, but I’m already burying my face in her neck, lips moving against her luscious skin.

“Enough,” I snap, and I don’t have to look up to know Katana jumps at my command. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, Katana⁠—”

“Don’t say her name when your mouth is on me,” my bride hisses.

I smile against her, nibbling slightly as my hands plant firmly on her hips. “Don’t worry, this is all for you,” I whisper for only her to hear. “As I said, I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re going to answer them honestly. If you don’t, you will regret it. Are we clear?” I pop my eyes up to meet Katana’s.

She stares at me a moment before nodding, and I return my gaze to the pretty little hickey I gave my bride last night, closing my lips around it once more for another, solid suck.

She shivers against me and my cock twitches in my sweats.

“Have I ever fucked you?”

Boston jerks, but I smooth my hands down her sides just as Katana answers, “No.”

“Have I ever made you think I wanted to fuck you?”

“…no.”

I skate my palms along Boston’s collarbone, fingers curling around the hem of her robe and taking it with me, letting it fall from her arms until it’s piled in the bend of her elbows. My eyes slice to her nipple, reveling at how hard it gets in the cool air. She doesn’t fight me or try and cover up. In fact, she tips her head back, letting it fall to my shoulder, and I know her eyes are on the girl who interrupted us. “Have my lips ever touched yours?”

“Enzo.”

“That is not an answer.” My palm slides up Boston’s side, smoothing over her soft stomach. She inhales, and I scoop up her right tit, closing my palm around it for a slow, not-so-soft squeeze. “Have my lips ever touched yours?”

“No.”

“Not even the day we were married?”

At that, Boston goes stiff, but I roll her nipple between my fingers, my other hand gliding around and dipping between her legs.

Her throat bobs with a swallow, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t cover up or bat me off her.

“No, not even then,” Katana whispers, a slight tremble in her tone.

My touch moves lower and lower, and then I’m sliding my middle finger into my wife’s wet heat.

Boston’s soft moan fills the space and I shift, moving to stand in front of her.

“You can go now,” I tell Katana, and then I forget all about her, unaware and uncaring if she stays or goes.

I hook Boston’s leg up over my arm, driving my fingers into her with slow thrusts. “You’re dripping all over my fingers, Little Bride.”

“I was dripping before they even slid inside me.”

I groan, smashing my lips to hers. Our teeth clink as we fight for dominance, and I pump my hand harder, the sound of her arousal sticky and sloppy in the air around us.

She tears away, stretching her own leg out farther and willing my fingers deeper. “How am I going to come from just your fingers?”

“Baby, I could make you come without even touching you.”

“So cocky.”

“Damn fucking straight.”

“Enzo?” she breathes.

“Baby?”

“Bite me while I come.”

I release her leg, fist her hair, and yank her head back.

She squeals, and I waste no time, teeth sinking into her skin, in the exact spot that her lips are tattooed into the skin of my neck, marking her as she did me. Instantly, that squeal turns into a huff that turns into a gaspy moan.

She rides my hand, fingers driving into my hair and tugging my mouth closer, but there’s nowhere else for me to go.

If I bite any harder, I’ll draw blood, but that’s not what she’s after.

It’s the mark I’m leaving behind.

She likes to look in the mirror and see me.

I’ve caught her doing it twice already since last night…and I marked her good and fucking well. Her thighs are covered with proof of me, her belly and her breasts.

Katana saw it.

I want everyone to fucking see it.

I want the world to know that Boston Revenaw is mine now, and no one is changing that.

I’d dare a fool to try.

Too soon, Boston comes off her high, leaning back and using the counter to hold herself up by her elbows as she peers up at me, a dopey, yet inquisitive expression on her face.

“Okay, Mrs. Fikile.” I dip down, lift her in my arms, and carry us from the kitchen. “Time to tell you a story.”

“Is it about a girl, who used to be married to a guy, who is now married to someone else, but still lives with him?”

“It’s about a girl who was kidnapped, put up for auction, and then sold to the highest bidder.”

Boston’s head yanks my way. “Wait, what?”

Boston

Kidnapped.

Auctioned.

Sold to the highest bidder?

I’m stone in Enzo’s arms, a million scenarios going around in my head as how this all came to be, but the bottom line is pretty clear.

Katana was sold off to the highest bidder, like the Mona Lisa or the Chloe Diamond.

Like I thought I might be if I didn’t go out in search of a man myself.

In truth, I don’t believe my father would sell me for a payout; he had more than he could ever spend, or sell me at all, for that matter, but as a chess piece on a board? Yes.

In our world, there comes a time when alliances are necessary, and I had zero intentions of waiting around, becoming the only bargaining tool he’d have left.

Is that what happened to Katana?

Who is she, where did she come from, and how did Enzo end up being the one to buy her?

My mind continues to pose question after question, so at first, I don’t notice we’ve already reached our room until we are stepping into our private space. Enzo lowers me to my feet, the scent of fresh lavender and eucalyptus wafting through the room.

Just as the bathtub comes into view, Grandma appears, dipping her head with a smile and silently continuing past, the soft click of the door indicating her exit.

The spa-size tub is steaming, fresh petals floating along the top, jets bubbling along the edges, and when Enzo’s fingers wrap around the silk of my gown, I eagerly help shrug it off, not waiting for his extended hand but stepping up and into the bath with excitement.

I wince, the water near scalding, but it only stings for a second, and then I’m submerged to my shoulders, not bothering to pull my hair up, but rather letting it float in the water around me.

“I’m grabbing some snacks from the bar for now and I’ll ask Fredrick to send up some lunch for when we get out.”

I nod, closing my eyes and settling my head back on the cushion sweeping over the side. Enzo is back as quickly as he left, the water sloshing slightly as he joins me, but I’m far too relaxed to look up at him.

He shifts around slightly, and then something cold presses at my lips.

“Open up, baby.” His husky tone washes over me, and I shiver, doing as he says without caring to know why.

I bite into the soft offering, the sweet tang of fresh berries exploding across my tongue. “Raspberry?” I guess.

“Yes. Now, open those eyes. You eat, I talk.”

My eyes fly open on command, and I happily take the small bowl of fruit that magically appears in the minibar fridge each morning—knowing what I do now, I would bet it was Enzo’s doing, even if only by request.

Enzo stares at me, waiting until I’ve eaten three berries, and he hands me a fourth before speaking.

“A few years ago, when my businesses, both the legal and underground operations, peaked beyond understanding, I was hired by a man well-known to our world to track down a woman no one else could seem to find. She disappeared ten years prior without a trace from her home in the middle of the night, and there was not a single piece of evidence that anyone could find to figure out how it happened or where she had gone. The property cameras were hacked and set on loop, but the most telling part was how not a single camera in the entire town recorded a second of footage for a four-hour period that night.”

“How is that possible?”

“If you’d have asked me then, I would have said it wasn’t, even if ten years ago the security systems weren’t a fraction of what they are now. Now I know better after seeing what a good tech guy can do with a few clicks. Someone managed to take out the entire city’s surveillance that night, giving them just enough time to get the woman off the grounds, out of town, and the people who helped her escape back to where they came from.”

“And you know who that person was?”

“I suspect.” He frowns, opening his mouth and accepting the blueberry I drop onto his tongue. “That’s for another time, though. So, this woman that no one could find, I found. I tracked her down to Costa Rica in half the time I was contracted for. I let the man who hired me know I had found her, and the next thing I knew, I was ambushed.”

“By the woman?”

“By the man who paid me to find her.”

My brows pull in confusion, and I tip my head. “I don’t understand.”

“The man who hired me did so because he heard my team was like no other that came before us. We had a one hundred percent success rate, in both businesses, and if no one could penetrate our security measures, that in turn meant we knew exactly what to look for and how to identify other people’s, so he knew we were as good as we claimed to be.”

I run his words through my mind, slower and reading between the lines, factoring in the ambush that was already waiting and the timing in which they attacked. “Oh my god.” It hits me. “He didn’t hire you hoping you would find her, he hired you to make sure she couldn’t be found…because he was the one who was hiding her all along.”

“Exactly.” Enzo dips his chin. “Too bad for his men, I had twice as many at every position and they never made it within five feet of me. The moment the final body hit the dirt, the woman stepped out of the house with a gun to her head and pulled the trigger before we could say a word.”

“What? Why?” I fold my legs under me, the water sloshing around us. “Why didn’t she want to be found?”

Enzo pointedly looks to the bowl of fruit, and I flick my eyes to the ceiling, tossing two berries into my mouth, rolling my wrist to keep him going.

His lips twitch briefly and he continues. “Because she was the mistress of the man who hid her…and when he sent her away, he sent her with his legitimate child, born of him and his wife.”

“Katana.”

“Yes. His one and only heir.”

“That doesn’t make sense, why would he hide his daughter away from her mother, and with his mistress, no less?”

“Because her mother never would have allowed him to sell her off as the ultimate power play.”

A sharp pain settles against my chest and I drop my eyes to the water. That one falls a little too close to home, as my mother made my father promise never to do such a thing to my sister or me.

“By the time we made it inside the building, it was empty, and that was how we figured it all out. The young girl’s clothing and the bars and drapery on the windows. There were messages on an old computer they didn’t have time to take, and a few had written letters we had to decipher. We took everything and within two days we knew we were played. The man panicked and sent an email out, and since we had one of the computers, it came right to us. He put his sixteen-year-old daughter up for auction.”

“And you outbid everyone else.”

“I did.”

“And he just let you have her even though you knew the truth?”

“Not exactly, but in the end, the ceremony was complete, and she was—” He cuts himself off.

My gaze softens, and I offer a small smile. “Your wife.”

“Not because I wanted her to be.”

“Still counts,” I whisper.

“Legally, yes, but not where it matters most.” His eyes hold mine, the passion within them, the meaning behind the words too much. He means what he’s saying, it’s all right there, written in the lines of his expression.

I break eye contact, focusing instead on the half-empty bowl in front of me instead of on the man I didn’t know how bad I wanted to fall for, let alone when it started to happen. “And then?”

“And then I killed him and every single man he brought with him.”

My head snaps his way, eyes widening, and Enzo chuckles.

“He intended to kill me the moment he hired me if I found what he was hiding. He would have tried again and again until he succeeded had I not, but even if he didn’t, I would have killed him anyway.”

“Couldn’t have him telling people he came after you and lived to talk about it.”

Enzo grins. “Exactly.”

My laugh is low, and I shake my head. “So why did you go back to Costa Rica when I first came to stay here?”

“We got a tip that there were men who escaped alive, and they claimed my name was being mentioned among some cartels there. You and I had just signed our marriage contract and you only just arrived. I had many plans for us, Little Bride, but your safety was the most important. I couldn’t risk anyone showing up here knowing you were within my walls, so I went straight to the source only to find out there was no bad blood waiting for me there at all. I’m beginning to wonder if that wasn’t the entire purpose—driving a wedge between us when there was already a mountain we had to move.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, deeper parts of me, parts I’ve never felt before softening, warming.

I didn’t know the knowledge of learning the truth about those first three months mattered to me anymore, but apparently it did as there is something happening right now that feels a lot like surrendering my all to the man before me.

Enzo is watching me closely, his expression one of tenderness, though there’s a small glimmer of delight in his eyes, as if he knows exactly what’s going on inside my mind.

I pinch my lips in a small smile, tipping my head. “So Katana is, what? The heir to her own empire that’s just waiting for her to take it over or…”

His eyes narrow playfully, like he doesn’t want to change the subject back, but rather focus on me and fillet me open right here so he can read my every thought. After a moment, his lips twitch and he sighs.

“Katana will remain Katana Fikile,” he explains. “She will be only as my little sister, until she’s had proper training at Greyson Elite. She knows nothing of this life and has only begun to understand the simplest of its ways. When the time comes, if it comes, we will reveal the truth, but not yet. She’ll lose everything if it gets out too soon because she’s too weak to be the leader she’s expected to be, and if she loses everything,” he pauses, holding my gaze, “it’s not only her that will fall, but the entire union as you know it.”

The union.

As I know it.

Not as he knows it…because he is not from one of the four families.

I am, though I’m not the chosen heir to represent our name or cardinal compass. Rocklin is.

And Delta.

And Bronx.

And…

“Holy shit,” I breathe. “Katana is the final Greyson girl.”