Chapter 4

Lokie had followed Enzo to the company on purpose, a wicked little spark of satisfaction burning in her chest. She knew he’d hate the chaos she was about to unleash, but that was exactly the point. 

A carefully wrapped package of payback for the night he’d left her tied to that damn wheelchair, freezing in the vast living room while he slept warm behind a locked door.

 Her body still remembered the deep ache in her shoulders, the numbness in her fingers, the cold that had seeped into her bones. What she was about to do was nothing compared to that. And if he kept crushing her pride under his heel, she had plenty more “gifts” ready.

She didn’t slide off the table. Instead, she lowered herself gracefully into a seated position right there in the center, legs crossed neatly like she was offering prayers at a temple. 

Her gaze locked straight onto Enzo’s face, that bright, unwavering smile still curving her lips as if the blood on the table and Milton’s whimpers were just background noise.

“This is audacious!” Roland roared, his voice booming through the room. He kept his eyes fixed on Enzo, refusing to even glance at Lokie, as if acknowledging her would make the humiliation worse.

“Yes, it is,” Lokie affirmed cheerfully, letting out a soft, childlike giggle that danced eerily in the tense silence.

She caught a fleeting flicker of something—anger? frustration?—cross Enzo’s usually stoic face, but it vanished in the space of a heartbeat. Lokie blew him a playful kiss anyway, her cheeks flushing with exaggerated warmth, like a teenager caught staring at her crush. The gesture felt ridiculous and delicious all at once.

Roland ignored her completely, his face turning a deep shade of red. 

“Such behavior will not be tolerated. Never in my life have I been disrespected like this. I won’t sit here and take any more of it.” He slammed his fist down on the table one final time, the impact rattling glasses and papers, then shoved his chair back and stormed toward the door. “Your father never let a woman trample over his authority. Don’t be a weakling.”

“You’d better fix this mess and get that crazy bitch to a psychiatrist before things spiral completely out of control,” William muttered, shaking his head in disbelief as he followed Roland out, shoulders tense with barely contained fury.

Lokie watched each of them file out, their faces twisted in disappointment, outrage, and fear. Perfect. That was exactly what she had wanted—their polished masks cracking, their confidence shattered. One by one, they disappeared through the heavy door, leaving the air thick with their lingering resentment.

“You’re welcome! Goodbye! See you next time!” she called after them, waving enthusiastically with both hands, her voice bright and singsong as if they were old friends leaving a party.

Their hurried footsteps only reinforced the image they now carried of her: completely unhinged. Lokie could practically see the label sticking in their minds—*crazy*.

Milton lingered longer than the rest, still pinned by the knife, his face pale and slick with sweat. He waited, eyes pleading for Enzo to finally step in, to reassert control. But Enzo remained silent, unmoving. With a defeated groan, Milton wrenched his hand free, blood dripping onto the floor, and staggered out without another word.

“See you next time, bestie!” Lokie waved excitedly at his retreat.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Milton snarled over his shoulder before slamming the door behind him.

Now only the two of them remained in the enormous conference room. The silence stretched out, heavy and suffocating. Enzo’s dark eyes bored into her, unblinking, the weight of his stare pressing down on her skin.

Lokie let out a loud, dramatic groan, stretching her arms above her head. She was tired of waiting for him to explode, to fight back, to *do* something. But he simply rose from his chair with deliberate calm, turned, and walked out.

“Hey, wait!” Lokie called, her voice sharpening with urgency as she realized he was slipping away. She jumped down from the table, bare feet hitting the cool floor, and chased after him, the oversized shirt fluttering around her thighs.

Enzo didn’t slow down. Inside, a storm of conflicting feelings churned. Part of him felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude—she had shut those nagging, entitled bastards up in a way he’d been tempted to do himself for months. 

Their constant whining, as if they couldn’t solve their own problems without him holding their hands. But she had no right to barge in without permission, to humiliate him in front of his partners. His home, his business, his control—she was eroding it all.

Still, he kept his breathing even. Enzo didn’t fight unless absolutely necessary. And if he gave Lokie the war she seemed so desperate for, she might not be able to handle what came back at her.

“Hey, Enzo, wait up!” she shouted, her footsteps echoing behind him as she ran.

He pushed through the building’s exit and headed straight for the sleek black car waiting at the curb, the engine already purring softly.

He reached for the door handle, but Lokie darted in front of him, pressing her back against the car and blocking his path. Her chest rose and fell quickly from the short sprint, cheeks slightly flushed.

“Come on, husband, why the rush?” she breathed out, a teasing lilt in her voice despite the exhaustion. “I can’t believe you made me chase you like that. Can’t you see you’ve got those long legs and I can barely keep up?”

Enzo towered over her 5’8 frame like a mountain. Up close, she felt tiny—her head barely reaching his broad shoulders. The difference made her feel almost childlike, swallowed by his presence.

“Get out of my way,” Enzo growled, low and dangerous.

Lokie stuck her tongue out at him defiantly. “Nope.” Her eyes sparkled with challenges. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Before he could respond, she yanked the car door open and slipped into the passenger seat. She poked her head out the window, grinning widely. “What are you waiting for? Get behind the wheel and drive already.”

Enzo didn’t argue. He slid into the driver’s seat, jaw clenched tight, and the car pulled away smoothly.

The moment the vehicle halted in front of his villa, Enzo was out, long strides carrying him inside without a backward glance.

“Hey, Enzo?” Lokie scrambled out after him, chasing once more. Her voice echoed off the walls as she hurried through the entrance.

She couldn’t catch up. By the time she burst into the living room, his bedroom door had already slammed shut with a resounding bang that vibrated through the entire space.

“Shit!” Lokie bit her lip hard, heart racing as she braced for the storm she knew was brewing.

Barely five seconds passed before the door swung open again. Enzo’s tall figure filled the doorway. For the first time, his usually stoic face cracked open, raw anger blazing in his eyes. It radiated off him in waves so intense she felt it in her bones, prickling across her skin.

She didn’t back down. She lifted her chin high, holding her ground even though she knew he could crush her with barely any effort.

Enzo’s gaze dropped, finally noticing what she was wearing. “Is that my—” he started, voice rough.

“Well, yeah. Who else would it be?” Lokie gave a half-shrug, trying to sound casual. “It’s not like I have any clothes in this goddamn house.”

The control Enzo had been gripping so tightly finally shattered. The rage he’d bottled up exploded in an instant.

Lokie barely had time to register the shift. Suddenly he was right in front of her, moving faster than she expected. She tried to twist away, but his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head firmly under his arm. 

He pinned her wrists together with effortless strength. Then, as if she weighed nothing at all, he lifted her and draped her stomach-down across his powerful thighs.

Lokie screamed, twisting and kicking wildly in shock. “Let me go!”

Pain exploded across her ass as his large hand came down hard—once, twice. Not the teasing kind that could blur into pleasure. These were punishing, meant to hurt, to teach. The sharp smacks echoed through the room, each one sending fresh waves of stinging fire through her soft skin.

Enzo was done tolerating her chaos. He could endure her absurd stunts, her interruptions, her knife games—but not her complete disregard for his warnings. He was a clean freak, everything in his villa kept in precise order, untouched by others. Not even his siblings invaded his private space like this. And now she had. Wearing his clothes. Rifling through his things.

Lokie’s bare ass burned crimson under his relentless palm, each impact leaving her gasping. She struggled harder, tears pricking hot at the corners of her eyes as she fought to break free. Every twist only made him grip tighter, spanking harder. The humiliation mixed with sharp, throbbing pain until her whole body trembled.

Finally, with a desperate wrench, she managed to slip from his hold. She scrambled away to the far side of the room, breathing hard, hands flying back to rub her aching cheeks.

“You despicable bully!” she spat, voice cracking with fury and lingering hurt. Her lips trembled as she glared at him, eyes glistening. “A heartless, cruel monster… how dare you beat me like a child?”

The satisfied glint in his eyes only fueled her rage. She wanted to slap that look off his face, to leave her own mark on him—something permanent, something that would sting as much as her pride did now.