Speak Easy (Speak Easy 1)

He raised his brows. “Don’t you want to supervise me? Make sure I say exactly what I’m supposed to?”

“I trust you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think. Enzo stared at me a moment, his expression curious, but he said nothing before leaving me alone in my room.

When he was gone, I looked in the mirror. My damp hair was a tangled mess, and my face was as flushed as Enzo’s, but what caught my eye was the necklace. The stones at the base of my throat glittered in the lamplight. He bought this for her. Why—because he loved her? Because her father owned a distillery? Was this a token of affection or a bribe to sweeten a deal? What was she to him? And where the hell did I fit into his life?

I didn’t. I wouldn’t.

Reaching behind my neck, I unclasped the necklace, furious with myself. What are you thinking, getting all rosy-cheeked and puckering up for him? Don’t be a fool. You don’t trust him and he doesn’t trust you. What he said was right—you each have something the other wants, and that’s where the relationship begins and ends. You want to fool around, fine, but don’t fool yourself into thinking this “partnership” is anything more than another business deal.

I put the necklace in the box, my bare neck hot with shame. I never should have worn it. I never should have told him I trusted him—he would only take advantage of it. Putting the top on the box, I pressed it shut and vowed I’d never wear the damn thing again. I’m giving it back. And if I ever see it on that lousy little tart, I’ll laugh in her pug-nosed face about where it’s been.

Grabbing the box, I switched off the lamp and left my room. I was heading down the stairs when Enzo started to yell.

Hurrying into the kitchen, I saw him shouting obscenities into the phone—at least I assumed that’s what they were, since he was yelling in Italian. He smashed the receiver onto the hook and ran a hand through his hair, seething. It was the most unhinged I’d ever seen him.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice high with panic.

“I have to go.” With barely a look at me, he headed for the front door.

“Hey!” I grabbed him by the elbow. “Just a minute. Is your father releasing him tonight or not?”

Enzo closed

his eyes and exhaled. “Something is going on. I just can’t figure out what the fuck it is.” He looked at me again. “Your father is missing.”

Chapter Sixteen

My jaw dropped. “Missing?”

Enzo nodded, staring me down. “As of this morning, although this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You mean, he escaped?”

“Impossible. Not without help.”

I didn’t know whether to be excited that he’d escaped or worried that he was gone without a trace. Then I realized why Enzo was looking at me so intently. “It wasn’t me, Enzo.”

“I don’t think it was you. At least, I don’t think you physically removed him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “But you think it was my idea. That I arranged it.”

He said nothing for a moment, and I slammed the necklace box into his torso. He grabbed it with both hands and grimaced.

“Search the house, Enzo! He’s not here. Search the fucking garage, the store, I don’t care!” I pointed a finger in his face. “Only stop acting like you’re going to seduce me one minute and then strangle me the next.”

He glared at me, seething. “That is, in fact, exactly how I feel about you.”

I slapped him. Hard, right across his handsome face, fury pounding through my veins.

I wanted to do it again, but he grabbed my wrist on the second swing, and when I brought the other hand up he got that one too, the necklace box hitting the floor with a smack. We grappled for a few seconds, knocking the phone off the hall table. I was overpowered quickly and backed up against the wall, my wrists pinned on either side of my ear. His breath bathed my lips, and his eyes flashed with rage and passion.

“So which is it now?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Both.” Smashing his mouth to mine, he released one wrist and wrapped his hand around the front of my neck, his fingertips digging into my skin without actually cutting off air. I should have brought my knee up hard, or at least bit him, but instead I licked his lips, searching for his tongue with my own, desperate to drive him as mad as he drove me.

He stepped back, dropping his arms. Our chests rose and fell.

“Go find him, and bring him back here,” I demanded. “You’ll get the money when I see he’s unharmed. And take that goddamn necklace with you.”