“Eat first; then you can ask questions.”
I frown. I don’t like this tit for tat game, or him expecting me to win a round of truth or lies to get a question answered.
Enzo turns down a hallway and like before, he doesn’t ask me to follow him. He walks, and I’m expected to follow like a trained dog. Reluctantly, I do.
He stops in the kitchen and has his head buried in the fridge, pulling out all manner of food. He frowns after pulling a platter full of fruit and raw vegetables out. “I don’t have any meat, which might help you heal faster, but eat this for now, and then I’ll get you something more substantial to eat.”
I stare at the mound of food as I stand next to the island. “I can’t eat all of that.”
He laughs. “Eat some of it while I talk.”
“Okay.”
He smiles and slides the food on the island in front of where I stand leaning against the counter.
I pick up a grape and gnaw at it. “Talk.”
“There isn’t much to say really. My last name is Black. I’m Enzo Black.”
“How?” I mumble, my mouth still working on the first bite of grape.
“My father’s name is Black. He owned the empire. The bars, the yachts, the men.”
“Owned?” I ask, realizing he used the word in the past tense.
He nods. “Yes.”
“And now? Who rules the empire now?”
“Me.” I can see it in his eyes. How he got the power he now wields. Me. I don’t understand how disposing of me gained him control over his father’s empire, but I know I had a lot to do with it. And he won’t tell me anything further than what he just told me.
I swallow, the sour taste of the grape lingering on my tongue. I stare down at the platter, trying to pick a fruit that has the least flavor, but I can barely remember the taste of any of the fruits. I haven’t had anything this fresh in years. Instead, I opt for a snow pea stalk. I take a bite off the end.
And then anger fumes inside me. “He was the king, and you were the prince. You had more power back then than you let on. You could have decided I didn’t have to die or be sold. You could have convinced your father.”
He shakes his head. “No, I would have ended up dead. I traded your life to save mine. I did all I could to save you. I’m sorry you aren’t grateful for that.”
“Grateful! You expect me to be grateful! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”
He looks at me sheepishly, his face fallen and hurt. It wounds him, what has happened to me. Yet another thing that doesn’t make sense about this man. He can’t care for me. Not if he sold me to cruel men. That’s not caring; it’s the opposite of caring. It’s savage.
He’s silent though, not giving me any more insight into his thoughts or reasoning.
“But you’re the king now?”
“Yes.”
“So you have the power to decide my fate? You could let me go.”
“Yes.”
“But you won’t?”
“No, you controlled your own fate when you offered up your life to me. Now you’re mine.”
“To what? To beat? To rape?”
He shrugs. “If I like.”