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Chapter Ten

Joy

I pulled my knees up to my chest and laid my cheek against them, unable to look at Enzo as the memory of my parents’ marriage and my mom’s death washed over me. I’d shared too much—made myself too vulnerable. Looking away, I surveyed my surroundings instead, needing the distraction.

The buttery leather felt cool against my bare skin, an uncomfortable reminder of how exposed I was. The living room was surprisingly spacious for a houseboat, stretching before me in unexpected luxury.

It had another matching couch across from me, its cushions perfectly arranged, and a large television set mounted on the wall that reflected the gentle swaying of water outside the windows.

A gleaming mahogany bar stood in the corner, crystal decanters catching the warm light from recessed fixtures overhead, their smoky contents glowing like captured sunlight.

The gentle rocking of the boat beneath me might have been soothing under different circumstances, but now it only emphasized how far from solid ground I truly was.

I stared longingly at a couple of blankets hanging over an ornate quilt rack near the window, their soft fabric promising comfort and dignity.

If only I had the nerve to cross the room and cover myself.

In this revealing dress, I might as well have been wearing nothing at all.

My skin crawled with the fresh memory of men’s eyes appraising me like merchandise, their gazes leaving invisible stains I wasn’t sure would ever wash away.

Enzo flicked his gaze over me and heat rushed to my cheeks, a mixture of shame and indignation burning beneath my skin.

We were here alone…or at least I thought we were alone.

The houseboat creaked gently with the movement of water, the sound emphasizing our isolation.

He could do anything he wanted and I’d be powerless to stop him.

My heart raced painfully against my ribs, each beat a reminder of my helplessness.

I went from one prison to another, trading stone walls for water barriers.

But something about the way he kept his distance, the careful way he moved around me—like I was something fragile but valuable—gave me a flicker of hope.

People weren’t all bad—I had to believe that, even now.

That belief was the one thing they couldn’t take from me, no matter what happened next.

“Would you like to get out of that dress?”

My optimism was shattered and replaced with anger. I wrapped my arms tighter around me and lifted my chin in defiance. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

He grumbled under his breath, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he controlled his expression.

“That’s not what I meant.” He tilted his head toward a hallway, his dark eyes avoiding mine as if embarrassed by the misunderstanding.

“Angelo has other dresses in his bedroom that might be less revealing.” He gestured with his hand, the movement stiff and awkward, so different from the lethal grace he’d displayed during the rescue. “You seem uncomfortable in that.”

I studied his face, searching for any sign of deception.

My heart wanted to believe him—to trust that at least one person in this nightmare wasn’t trying to hurt me—but my mind remained cautious.

Trust had been hard to come by in captivity, except for Zoe.

The memory of her face as I was carried away sent a pang of guilt through me so sharp it was almost physical.

I swallowed hard against the tightness in my throat, torn between gratitude for my rescue and heartache for those left behind.

I didn’t want to parade around in this dress like a piece of merchandise, feeling its restrictive fabric shift uncomfortably against my skin with every breath. “Yes. I would,” I whispered, relief washing through me at the prospect of covering myself properly.

He led me down a dark hallway, his broad shoulders casting long shadows on the polished wood paneling.

The gentle sway of the houseboat made me reach out and steady myself against the wall, my fingertips brushing against expensive wallpaper textured like silk.

The scent of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine—clean and expensive—grew stronger as we approached what must be Angelo’s private quarters.

Enzo pushed open a heavy oak door that swung silently on well-oiled hinges, revealing a bedroom that took my breath away.

A huge king-sized canopy bed dominated the space, draped in midnight blue fabrics that rippled slightly with the boat’s movement.

Moonlight spilled through tall windows, casting silver patterns across a leather couch positioned perfectly to face both a massive flat-screen television and the water views beyond.

In the corner, a sunken hot tub large enough for several people gleamed with inlaid tiles, its still water reflecting the room like a mirror.

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, overwhelmed by the contrast between this luxurious sanctuary and the prison I’d escaped in minutes.

Enzo had run so fast, faster than any human.

My stomach still lurched from the memory of trees blurring past, the world reduced to streaks of shadow and moonlight.

My ears were still ringing slightly, and my skin tingled where the night air had whipped against it.

I’d never felt so helpless and exhilarated at the same time—carried like I weighed nothing, with no control over where we were going or how fast we’d get there.

My eyes darted around the room, taking in details that spoke of wealth and power—things that had always existed in a world apart from mine.

Enzo opened a door that led to a walk-in closet, the soft click of the handle giving way to a light that automatically illuminated rows of clothing.

Men’s jackets, shirts, and pants hung meticulously on one side, each piece perfectly pressed and organized by color—charcoals blending into blacks, navy into cobalt.

On the other side, women’s dresses, shirts, skirts, and pants created a rainbow of fabrics and textures.

The scent of cedar and lavender mingled in the air, a luxurious touch to preserve the expensive garments.

“Pick what you would like.” His deep voice resonated in the enclosed space, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

“Whose clothes are they? Are they Serenity’s?” I ran my fingers along a silky blouse, wondering if my best friend had worn it. The thought of Serenity brought a bittersweet pang—relief that she was safe, mixed with longing to see her familiar face after everything I’d been through.

He shrugged and gave me a curious smile, the expression softening his usually stern features. His eyebrow arched slightly, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Does it matter?”

My cheeks reddened, heat spreading across my face.

“I guess not.” Though if they were Serenity’s, at least they’d belong to someone I loved rather than a stranger.

I looked deeper into the closet, drawn to the simpler items tucked between cocktail dresses and formal wear.

My heart leaped when I found a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.

After wearing that revealing dress, jeans and a T-shirt would be like heaven to me—armor against the world’s prying eyes.

I looked over my shoulder and Enzo was gone, the space where he’d stood now empty.

Alone at last, the tension melted from my spine like ice in summer heat.

Maybe he was being a gentleman, giving me my privacy.

Not like the guards at Ravenwood Estate who enjoyed leering at us while we got dressed, their gazes leaving me feeling soiled and exposed each time they raked over my body.

I shut the closet door quickly then pulled the hated dress off, ripping it with a satisfying tear that released weeks of pent-up anger.

It was so flimsy that it was hard not to destroy it completely.

The cool air kissed my exposed skin, raising goosebumps across my shoulders and back.

I didn’t have a bra on and just pulled the black shirt over me as fast as I could, the soft cotton enveloping me in blessed coverage.

I tugged on the jeans that were twelve inches too long, the denim pooling around my ankles like denim waterfalls, but I didn’t care—they felt like protection, like normalcy reclaimed.

I found some women’s sandals that were too big, but I refused to wear those white high heels ever again. I kicked them aside with satisfaction, watching them tumble into the corner of the closet.

I opened the door and peeked out. Enzo wasn’t in the bedroom.

The silence was sudden and complete except for the gentle lapping of water against the houseboat’s hull.

Where had he gone? Fear seized my breath, my chest tightening painfully.

What if we were followed and he was fighting them?

The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to deepen, threatening to hide unseen dangers.

Maybe Angelo had some weapons in here—a gun or a blade. I was good at using both, thanks to my father’s insistence that his daughter know how to protect herself. After all, Angelo was the vampire mafia king—he wouldn’t leave himself vulnerable, even in his own sanctuary.

I opened a nightstand drawer, wincing at the slight creak of wood against wood. My fingers trembled as they sifted through various items in the drawer—a silver lighter, an antique compass, and what looked like family heirlooms—searching for anything that might serve as protection.

“What are you looking for?”

My frantic heart nearly leaped out of my mouth. I slammed the drawer shut with a bang that echoed in the quiet room and whirled around at Enzo’s soft voice, my sandals scuffing on the polished floor. “Nothing.” The word came out higher than I intended, betraying my nervousness.

He had changed out of his bloodied suit and had on a pair of black pants and a matching black shirt that made him look like a dark avenging angel, a temptation I couldn’t afford.

The fabric clung to his broad shoulders, highlighting the strength that had effortlessly carried me from danger.

I had to think about saving those girls back at Ravenwood Estate, not about how his presence seemed to fill the room with an electric current.

He’d pulled his hair back into a man bun, revealing the sharp angles of his face—cheekbones that could cut glass and eyes that seemed to see right through my flimsy attempt at deception.

He leaned against the door jamb with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

“You’re a terrible liar, sunshine,” he said, his voice as smooth and rich as melted chocolate.

Lying was pointless. He was right. I’d never been able to tell a fib; my dad and brother, even Serenity, could see right through me. My shoulders slumped slightly with the admission of defeat. “I thought…I thought they might have followed us and was looking for a?—”

I hesitated, my heart fluttering nervously in my chest. The words caught in my throat as I realized how it might sound—a rescued captive searching for a weapon in her rescuer’s home.

My fingers fidgeted with the hem of the borrowed T-shirt, seeking something to do with the nervous energy coursing through me.

“A weapon? What would you do if you had one?” His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of genuine curiosity replacing his earlier amusement.

Pride straightened my spine, a remnant of my life before captivity surfacing through the fear and uncertainty.

“I’m an excellent marksman and have a black belt in karate.

” The confidence in my voice surprised even me, a reminder of who I’d been before all this—not just a victim, but someone with strength and skills of her own.

A warmth spread through my chest, the first genuine feeling of self-assurance I’d experienced since being taken.

“Really?” He stepped toward me, his movement fluid and predatory.

“Yes.” I forced myself to stand perfectly still, measuring the distance between us, calculating angles as my father had taught me.

He lifted my chin gently. “If you don’t know how to use a weapon, then your opponent can easily disarm you.”

“My father taught me well.” I stepped back from his touch, creating space.

In one fluid motion, I executed a perfect ushiro geri —a back kick—stopping just centimeters from his chest. The move was lightning-fast, my leg extended in perfect form, my balance unwavering despite the oversized sandals.

I held the position for a heartbeat before lowering my foot back to the ground, my eyes never leaving his.

Admiration mixed with surprise flickered in his eyes, the hardened enforcer momentarily caught off guard. “Did you do this with your captors?” His voice held a new note of respect that warmed something inside me.

“I did several times, but then...” My throat tightened as the memory crashed over me, vivid and horrifying. The borrowed jeans suddenly felt heavy on my legs. “Then Marsha hurt Zoe.”

I could still hear her screams echoing in my mind, see her body contorting unnaturally as the spell took hold.

My hands trembled slightly, and I curled my fingers into fists to hide the reaction.

“I couldn’t let that happen again.” Guilt and helplessness tangled together in my chest like a twisted chain.

My earlier display of strength now slipped through me, emptying me into a hollow shell.

What good were my skills if I couldn’t protect those I cared about?