Page 48 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

Willow

The urge to vomit wakes me up with a jolt. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I blink a few times to figure out where I am, but the dark, unfamiliar room is spinning.

The curtains are drawn, but a gold table lamp sits on the nightstand beside me.

It emits a dim light, but it’s enough to take in the room.

Gaudy wallpaper and champagne-hued furnishings decorate the bedroom, including an armoire with intricate vines carved into the wood.

Above the dresser hangs a mirror in a gilded frame, and a beige, tufted chair sits in the corner.

I glance up at the massive headboard, which is also upholstered in tufted fabric and framed in carved wood painted a champagne color.

It all looks very expensive, but apparently, money doesn’t buy taste.

I stretch my aching body with a groan, but when I do, the silk sheets slip down to reveal my breasts.

How did I get here, and why am I naked? When I think back, I can’t remember anything since the plane ride with Enzo. All I can remember is that he was acting strange, and then... nothing.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, but it’s nowhere to be found.

As soon as I sit up to look for it, a violent wave of nausea overwhelms me.

I throw off the bedcovers and race toward an open door leading into a bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the toilet just in time as I throw up liquid bile.

When there’s nothing left in my stomach, I roll over on the gold, fuzzy bathmat and curl into the fetal position, and my body breaks into shivers as goosebumps raise on my arms and legs.

I feel like absolute dog shit, but I have no idea what’s wrong or why. Everything is sore—the red marks around my wrists and ankles, my head, my chest. I’m even sore between my legs.

Where the hell is my phone? I need to call Alek to come pick me up.

Wait... He didn’t have his phone on him. I can’t remember why thanks to the hazy fog encasing my brain and my anxiety spiking in these strange surroundings.

A hard lump forms in my throat, and I lift a trembling hand to grasp the base of my neck. All I want to do is break down and cry, but I need to stay calm and figure out where I am.

It’s hazy and disjointed, but a memory fights through the fog to the forefront of my brain. A phone buzzing in Enzo’s carry-on bag... It wasn’t his... And I was frightened of him.

That’s right, I remember now. He drugged me and probably brought me here.

A white robe hangs on a hook near the door. I grab onto the corner of the clawed bathtub and haul myself to my feet, though the nausea is bubbling up again and the floor isn’t steady beneath me. I don’t know where my suitcase is with all my clothes, so the robe will have to do for now.

I need to get out of here, and fast.

I tiptoe back into the bedroom and head toward the closed door.

When I turn the handle, I pull it open just enough to peer out.

It leads into a long hallway with oil paintings hanging in intricate gold frames on the walls.

A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, bathing the corridor of closed doors in golden light.

When I open my door farther, it lets out a loud creak, and I freeze. I have no idea if Enzo or anyone else is here, but my gut tells me to sneak out as quietly as I can.

A few moments pass as I listen for approaching footsteps, but I hear nothing.

I open the door slowly, an inch at a time, until there’s a gap wide enough for me to pass through. My bare feet step onto hardwood, then a carpet runner, and I creep down the strange hallway as quiet as a mouse.

The corridor leads to a wooden staircase with a gold railing, and I take the first step down. I move slowly so my footsteps don’t echo on the wood or make the stairs creak.

Savory aromas waft up the stairs, and my stomach growls with hunger. I clutch my middle as though I can muffle the sound with my arms, praying it doesn’t give away my location.

I’m not sure how long it’s been since I last ate, but judging by the clenching pain in my stomach, I’d guess it’s been a while. I didn’t throw up anything except liquid bile in the toilet, and my legs feel so weak that I have to grip the railing for support as I make my way down.

I emerge in a living room, which is decorated in garish gold furnishings similar to the bedroom upstairs. Across the room is an archway that leads to a marbled foyer, and I catch a glimpse of the front door.

If I can just make it outside without being noticed, I can figure out where I am and find help.

I cross the long stretch toward the foyer, feeling rather exposed beneath the vaulted ceilings. The living room is wide open, and if anyone walks in, I’m impossible to miss.

When I reach the archway, I manage to take a breath, but my relief is short-lived. Before I can make it to the door, a figure walks in from the opposite side.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” Enzo gives me a broad grin. “Come to the kitchen. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He approaches me and wraps his arm around my waist, then leads me into another room.

I stiffen at his touch but say nothing. The situation feels precarious, like one wrong word could be my death sentence.

I’ve come to learn that Enzo is unpredictable, and there’s a maniacal side to him I’ve only caught glimpses of.

I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

We enter the kitchen, which has off-white cabinets and granite countertops. He leads me over to the island and the gold barstools with plush, champagne upholstery and pulls out a chair for me. “Here, have a seat.”

“Enzo,” I whisper in a trembling voice. “I can’t stay.”

His smile evaporates, and he regards me with a cold expression. “I said , sit down .”

I remain rooted in my spot, but when I glance at the foyer, Enzo grabs a large chef’s knife off the counter. He points the end toward me, then to the barstool at the kitchen island.

“I won’t ask you again.” His steely gaze remains fixated on me.

Swallowing, I take a shaky step toward the barstool and slide onto the seat.

“That’s a good girl.” Enzo’s expression brightens, and he sets the knife down on the counter beside him. “Hungry?”

Even though I’m starving, I shake my head, and my hands tremble so violently I have to fold them in my lap.

“Willow,” he coos. “You’ve been through a lot the past few days. You need to eat something.” He picks up the pan from the stove and slides the contents out onto plates.

When his back is turned, I glance at the front door again, but I’m not sure I’d make it in time before he catches me. Considering how unsteady I still am on my feet, there’s no way I can outrun him.

Enzo places a plate of pasta topped with chicken in front of me. He takes the adjacent seat, his thigh brushing against mine, and presses a kiss to my cheek. His touch startles me, and I recoil away from him on instinct.

My slight doesn’t go unnoticed. A storm cloud passes over Enzo’s dark gaze, and I avert my eyes to my plate.

“Is it poisoned?” I croak out through my sore throat.

Enzo grabs a linen napkin off the counter and whips it open with a sharp snap, then lays it across his lap. “No, Willow, I’m not trying to kill you.” His voice holds an edge of irritation.

When he twirls the pasta around with his fork, my stomach gurgles, but I wait until he swallows his food before daring to take a bite.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, but every time I lift the fork to my mouth, it shakes so hard I have to use my other hand to steady it. I don’t dare speak aloud, and I worry that the tiniest slipup could break this fragile silence between us.

Now that I’ve seen how quickly he can switch between moods, I’m afraid to set him off.

He swivels in his chair to face me, but I keep my head bowed over my food to avoid his intense stare. When he reaches his fingers out to stroke my cheek, a shudder descends through my body.

“Now that Alek’s out of the picture,” he says, “you and I can be together.”

I grip the fork in my fist until my knuckles turn white. “If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive you.”

He curls his hand into a fist and sets it on the table.

His restraint is barely contained, as if it requires every effort on his part not to ram his fist through the wall—or my head.

“I expected you to be mad at me for a while.” Enzo clenches his jaw.

“But I’ll wait for you to come around because I love you, Willow. ”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This can’t be happening.

He lets out a chilling chuckle. “Besides, why would you be with Aleksandr Kurochkin when you could have his wiser and more attractive older brother instead?”

I whip my head up. “What did you just say?”

He gives me a wicked smirk. “Ah, I knew that would get your attention.”

My heart stops as dread seeps into every pore of my body. “What are you talking about?”

Enzo leans forward. “Back in the day, Grigor Kurochkin used my mother to keep his dick wet, even though he was engaged to Olga. And as soon as my mother told him she was pregnant, he asked her to get rid of me. She said no, and he abandoned her.” He leans even closer so that his body hovers over mine, his breath warming the skin on my neck.

“Her family turned their backs on her when they found out she was an unwed mother-to-be. Grigor had plenty of wealth and power to take care of us, but he chose not to. He discarded us like trash to raise the perfect blonde-haired, blue-eyed family. Pure Russian blood.”