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“You’re fucking insane, I swear,” he grumbles and helps me up, getting back to dressing me.

I don’t know what has gotten into him. A bit of human decency perhaps, but he pulls something out from his pocket. When I see the key, I grit my teeth at him. “Now you’re unlocking them?”

“You forget your place.”

My chest heaves as I pant, so mad at him and this stupid game he’s playing. “Yeah, must have been flushed down the drain as you watched me pee like a perv.”

“This is on you. I wanted to free you before, but you being you…”

Getting in his face, I tip my chin up to look him dead in the eyes. “You provoke me on purpose, taking advantage of knowing me.”

“Not my problem. And I have no idea who you are.”

Simple words but with such a deep meaning they cut, making my insides bleed. He was the only one to see the real me.

“I hate you.”

“Heard that one before.”

“Enzo, it hurts,” I say, stripping myself bare, showing him all my vulnerability.

I lift my hands to show him, even though I am not referring to the physical pain. He turns his back to me, leaving me in total darkness as he cuts the lights, not caring. It feels like a piece of my heart beats its last beats, slowly dying.

Maybe because I’ve never seen this side of him toward me, cold, detached, uninterested, I took his playfulness, the banter, his care for granted.

I walk around as best I can, trying to get past the numbness in my legs and arms and not break my neck. There are no sharp things I can bump into and injure myself.

I move for as long as I can. My legs get heavier with each step, sweat breaking out over my skin. I stop, afraid I will faint if I keep this up, so I drag my exhausted body toward the small bed, falling on it sideways.

Do I get even a slight break? No, because the moment I am about to find sleep, I feel his presence.

I groan, showing him I am less than pleased by his late visit.

He turns on the light that assaults my eyes. I take a few attempts to open them for good, then I push myself upright when something catches my attention.

It’s a platinum necklace—a slick, sturdy and shiny round design, the locking mechanism so subtle I don’t even see it with one diamond encrusted in the middle. It’s a collar.

He clicks his tongue, a smug expression sliding over his features. “You don’t have your necklace anymore.”

“Had to sell it. Was on the run,” I sass. While I needed the money, I wanted any link to my past eradicated.

I am about to open my mouth and tell him that he’ll put that around my neck over my very dead body when in a fraction of a moment he has me on my back. Holding me by my neck, he squeezes to show me who is in charge.

I try to head butt him to remind him just as well with whom he deals with. He’s lucky I am bound.

Enzo presses me onto the mattress, straddling my chest. He locks it around my neck with ease; the click feeling final and screws it shut with a key.

It’s done. I close my eyes, refusing to offer him the pleasure of seeing me subdued. He lowers himself down onto my body, his weight feeling too good and familiar on top of me.

He traces the collar with his finger. “It looks so pretty on you,” he taunts me.

“Take it off,” I grit, opening my eyes and hope they shoot lasers at him.

“But I had it made for you,” he tsks, the sound ringing of fake displeasure.

The tension between us skyrockets as we stare each other down.

“Don’t push me.”