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Or realize what I’m reaching for and shoot me before I have the chance to shoot him, if he no longer thinks I’m worth keeping alive.
But I have to try.
“You’re a cruel, evil monster. Don’t think I didn’t notice the blood of your victim on your clothes.”
“Who said the man I killed was a victim?”
I inch closer, keeping my gaze on his instead of the gun. “Because no one deserves to die by your hand. You aren’t God.”
He smirks. “To most women, I am. Any woman who’s had the pleasure of spending a night in my bed has called me God over and over.”
I hesitate. I have no doubt Enzo is good in bed with a willing partner. My mouth waters at the thought of how he might be in bed. Powerful, strong, and merciless. He would ensure his partner came, while also taking everything he wanted from her. Fucking her harder than she’s ever been fucked, spreading her wider, pushing her beyond her limits. There would be spanking, a rough taking, and rope to tie her up like they were in some Fifty Shades of Grey novel.
A willing partner is the key. I wouldn’t be willing? Would I?
I snatch the gun before I answer my silent question. I take a step back at the same time as I aim the gun at Enzo.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t offer his surrender or try to take the gun from me, even though I’m sure he could easily.
“Do it, pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery,” he says.
His misery?
He doesn’t know what misery feels like. He can’t with a body like his, a mind that has been through schooling, and a company, albeit an illegal organization, he runs that makes him millions.
“Don’t tempt me. I should. You are not my master.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not your master. No one could control such a creature like you. You are like the sea; you can never truly be owned by any man.” His words seem to sadden him, like he’s just now coming to this realization.
I can’t kill him.
Just as he couldn’t kill me.
But I can kill myself.
I change the direction of the gun. I point it toward my heart.
One squeeze and I’ll be gone. Even if I miss my heart, my body couldn’t take the blood loss.
I see Enzo’s body tighten. He doesn’t tell me to stop, but every muscle in his body is pulling, forcing him to stay when he wants to snatch the gun from my hands.
I sigh.
I can’t fucking kill myself. Not after everything I’ve survived.
I drop the gun.
He doesn’t go to pick it up. Instead, he walks to the bathroom. When he returns, he has a wet washcloth and a glass of water.
He holds them both out to me.
I take them carefully before taking a seat back in my corner of the room. I use the washcloth to wipe the sweat from my body, and then I drink the water.
He watches me carefully until I’m lying on the floor again, and then he exhales sharply.
“Can you at least put a shirt on around me?”
“Huh?”
