Three Loving Words (4 page)

Enzo

She had ruined my life.  Plain and simple.  What did she really expect after that?  Rainbows and butterflies?  This marriage bullshit was her fault, and I wasn’t going to let her get away with messing up my future that easily.  I must admit that I was surprised the first time I saw her since we were kids.  From what I remembered, she was a cute kid.  A little whiny maybe, kind of wimpy, but cute nevertheless.  I might have even had a schoolboy crush if I was not imagining things, but I couldn’t fathom why on earth a normal young girl would agree to marry a complete stranger if she had some winning attributes.  I had pictured her being ugly, with a body she was ashamed of.  I had envisioned scars that frightened people away.  Maybe it wasn’t even her physical appearance that deterred guys.  It could have been a personality trait that didn’t win over any suitors.  I had spent plenty of time thinking about even little possible disgusting attributes like maybe she picked her nose in public, maybe even ate them. Sure, it was a stretch, but I had a lot of time to think about Paige Stiles.

Then I was forced to meet her at dinner.  To say she was beautiful was an understatement.  She wasn’t the typical “hot” because there was a pure innocence that made guys like me react in one of two ways – run like hell to the next girl who knew the score or try my very best to be the one to destroy that innocence.  If I had met her in a different time and place, I would have been the bastard who claimed that virtue in every possible fucking way, but seeing as she was the cause of my downfall, I hated her on sight.  I was still a red-blooded male, so while she took her time examining me, I swept my eyes from her head to her toes.  She had a body meant for models and legs for days.  Her mouth was small, but her lips begged to be kissed, full and pouty, but not in the way women tried to push them out.  What got me, though, were those blue eyes, so dark they were almost black, but they were still blue.  Unique.

Her demeanor, so shy, so trusting, almost made me want to grab her and mark her; show her just what happened to sweet girls who trusted like she did.

I liked partying, women, and sex.  Lots of sex.  When I thought about all the horrible features Paige could have had, I hadn’t truly felt bad about still leading my life on the side. Hell, she deserved it.  However, her looking like a wet dream, a very upscale wet dream, had me hating her even more than I did before.  She was the kind of girl who wanted a white picket fence, perfect husband, and two-point-five kids.  I read all that in the seconds it took her to finish ogling me.  It wasn’t me, wasn’t ever going to be me, and she was surely mistaken if she thought I could give her that.  I didn’t bend over backward for girls, not even ones who looked like her.

At least, if I were going to get a hot wife, she could have been a wild one; the kind who would give me all I needed without a big fuss, maybe even get her own on the side, and life wouldn’t be so bad.  Nope, Miss Hot and Wholesome here was not going to be my ideal partner.

I showed her my true colors right off the bat.  She flinched.  I smiled.  I was pretty sure it made me a dick to admit that her reaction made me happy, but she deserved nothing less.  She was stealing my life from me; so naturally, I was going to make hers hell.

Our wedding was the worst day of my life.  I was chaining myself to a person I despised.  I was the biggest asshole the few times I’d seen her. It wasn’t exactly any different from my everyday personality, but women loved that shit; at least, the women who I was balls deep in on a daily basis.  They liked a man who would take charge and not give a shit.  It had something to do with being the one to change a bad boy, or so I was told.  I wasn’t a “bad boy.” I was me.  Take it or leave it.  I was sure, though, that my not-so-cheery disposition would scare Paige away.  I had no choice in the matter.  It was all in her hands, but she didn’t shy away.

She showed up in black to our wedding. Making a statement as if she was the one mourning the loss of her freedom.  What in the hell did she have to prove?  She had the power to say no, and she never took it.  She had no right to make this farce of a wedding even more of a spectacle.  That was my job.  My fucking job.  The sour look on her face as if this was killing her had me ready to punch someone.  And damn if my dick didn’t disagree with me.  If I had thought she was a fantasy before, she looked spectacular that night.  The way the dress hugged her curves, showing off a peek at what was underneath. The way the front dipped low, just enough to show off her cleavage, but not enough to make her look trashy.  She had more make-up on than previous times and the soft black shadow made her eyes look like deep pools of lake water. Not ocean blue but deep, dark lakes.  It was mesmerizing, and I hated it.  If you hadn’t figured out just how much I hated her, I’d say it again. I hated her.  I was pretty sure I made it a point to tell her that all the time.

The wedding night didn’t go as planned.  It was not something I wanted to talk about or even think about.  I was an asshole, I knew this, but I was not that asshole.  I tried to tell her that the next day, but she knew every button to push.  Whatever little sympathy she had gained from me was gone in a matter of seconds after she had opened her mouth.  After some time away from her, I appreciated that she was feisty and even that she stood up for herself. But at the time, I wanted to punch a hole through the wall and shut her up. I already felt like shit for what had happened. I would never take advantage of a woman like that, but she made it even worse with her nonstop yelling.

The way she spoke to me as if I was nothing? Total bullshit. I had seen her eye fucking my body enough times to know she wanted me even if her mind didn’t necessarily agree.  Every woman wanted a piece of me.  I had learned early in life that between my smile and my body, it didn’t take much to get a woman to drop her panties for me or just drop to her knees in front of me.  But the way Paige had looked at me that morning, the disgust in her eyes, had me second-guessing myself for the first time in a long time.

Who in the hell did she think she was anyway?  She was living in the house my family paid for. She wouldn’t have to go to school and then work some shitty minimum wage job trying to pay off her debts; she didn’t have to change her lifestyle to accommodate anyone, and the best part of her new life – she had a husband who looked like me. What in the hell did she have to complain about?  And she said she wasn’t going to touch me.

I walked away from her, the fire boiling in me.  I was wound too tight to truly appreciate just how hard she had been crying. I heard her two rooms down.  She was sobbing; the kind you heard in movies when the main character hears the news that their loved one died and they fall to the floor in dramatic fashion.  I could hear it, but it didn’t register.  All I heard were words like vile, disgust, and worthless.  That last one had hit me hard, even though she had said it in passing.  I had been called that enough times in my life; I didn’t need to hear it coming from a little brat like her.  “Son of a bitch,” she had said.  I knew it was a phrase and nothing personal against my mother, but at that moment, I took it as a personal assault against her.  My dad was a real special guy.  I said that as sarcastically as possible, but my mom, she loved me unconditionally, no matter what I might have done in my life.  Even if you were the last man on earth.  So cliché but it stung.  It shouldn’t have.  Her opinion of me didn’t matter; at least, I’d told myself that several times.  I’d show her.  A tiny little voice had told me that I’d already had, and it didn’t turn out well, for either of us, but I pushed that down.

I ignored the wailing coming from the other room as I opened the contacts in my phone and scrolled until I found a good number.

She picked up after only one ring.  I liked that about her.  It was no strings.  Just sex, just fun.

“Hi, baby,” Trudy purred, and my dick stirred to life.  That was a lie.  It had been alive and kicking after the little scene with Paige.  She had been breathing hard before she broke the connection.  Even in my red haze of anger, I imagined her breathing hard while I pumped in and out of her. Hearing her dirty words directed at my actions rather than at me.  That mouth speaking my name on a moan rather than a scream.  My body and my mind were on two different pages.

“Fifteen minutes.  Don’t make me wait,” I demanded of Trudy.  I called her when I needed to wet my dick, and I didn’t feel like the hassle of a new plaything.  We met at a party of a mutual friend.  She had been recently divorced from her high school sweetheart.  While she had been loyal to him, he hadn’t.  She was looking to enjoy her newly single life and didn’t want or need a relationship, which made her the perfect fuck buddy.  I knew I wasn’t the only guy in her life just like she knew she wasn’t the only one in mine.

“I only need ten.” She chuckled.

She was at my place in seven and looked good enough to eat.  And that was just what I did.  I enjoyed her as if she was my favorite dessert before her pussy squeezed my cock like a glove … several times.  The sounds she made were great for any guy’s ego, and after the run-in with Paige, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need a little pick-me-up.  I took her as if Paige didn’t exist and wasn’t capable of walking in on us.  At that moment, I didn’t care.  That was what Paige did to me.  She turned me into something extreme, something completely uncaring. Where before, I had a little bit of shame; now, I had none.  This was my motherfucking house, and I was going to do as I pleased.  She said, “Fuck you, Enzo.”  No, my dear, I believe this was me fucking you.

Paige

The first time I heard, “Oh Enzo,” was while I was a blubbering mess after he had stormed out of the room.  I knew a few hours had passed because I looked at the clock, but it seemed like it was the blink of an eye. I was trying desperately to hide inside myself and trying to forget the violation Enzo had done not only to my body, but to my spirit as well.  I should have expected nothing less from him.  He was a monster and his attitude toward me should have been the first indicator that I was nothing to him.  So then why?  Why did he do that to me the night before?  Why didn’t he just leave me alone as if I wasn’t even there?  A piece of furniture.  I would have been okay with that.  No, that was a lie.  I wouldn’t have, but it would have been a hell of a lot better than what he did.

I was pulled out of my self-pity by a long, drawn-out moan.  Before I registered what it was, I was scared.  Of what, I wasn’t entirely sure.  I thought that maybe Enzo had somehow gotten hurt.  A tiny part of me, the good part, kicked in and wanted to help him.  A bigger part was secretly thrilled.  The bastard deserved some punishment.  And then I heard it.  A high-pitched scream that sounded more like the mating sound of a wild animal, followed by, “Oh, Enzo.”  I froze.  I was a virgin, but I wasn’t ignorant.  That no-good, piece of … ugh!

The woman sounded like she was trying out for a porno, with “Oh, Enzo,” separated only by “Oh, God.”  If she thought Enzo was a god, she had issues.  I could even hear his loud grunting and whispered words I couldn’t make out.  It brought me to the night before, and I was with my head in the toilet in seconds.  I didn’t have much in my stomach and spent the bulk of the time dry heaving to a chorus of sex I didn’t want to hear.  Through two closed doors, I could still tell that he was in the downstairs living room.  He didn’t even have the decency to move his activities to the bedroom.  What if I had walked out and saw them going at it?

With the noise level, I didn’t have to see them with my own two eyes.  My imagination was doing a mighty fine job and putting the noises to pictures.  If I had thought the previous twenty-four hours were bad, they just went from bad to worse.

I had heard people say that the body was resilient; that the mind had a harder time healing.  Well, those people were right.  I didn’t know how much more torture I could take and I had been married to this man for less than one full day.

I had been too shocked that day to truly process what him having sex with that woman meant.  It was after a few days that it all finally kicked in.  I knew this marriage wasn’t real. I knew the minute Enzo had opened his mouth that I wasn’t going to get my happily ever after.  I didn’t know why I had secret hopes that my wedding night would be a magical affair, even after the circus we made at the ceremony or the amount of alcohol my groom consumed.  I didn’t know why even after he assaulted me and I spent hours crying over it and him that I thought we might be able to work things out somehow.  It was the deep feelings of a perfect happily ever after that kept steering me wrong.

This wasn’t going to be a real-life together. Enzo wasn’t going to sweep me off my feet and kiss me when he came home.  He wasn’t going to decorate the house with roses and candles the first time he took me.  And he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay faithful.

I stayed locked in that bathroom for hours after I heard the woman’s heels click on the floor and the door close behind her.  It was only after Enzo whistled for twenty minutes, made himself something to eat in the kitchen, watched TV in the living room, and went to his room, closing it behind him that I was able to crawl out from behind the toilet.

I hadn’t eaten all day, but I didn’t want to.  I quietly made my way to my room, closed it, and jammed two chairs in front of the door.  I made a mental note to call a locksmith and figure out how to make my door significantly more Enzo-proof just in case.

I scrubbed my skin raw that night in the shower before finally falling asleep, exhausted.

That first week was a blur.  I came out of my room only when I heard Enzo wasn’t around.  I felt like a zombie and I probably looked like one, too.  The only times I felt happy were when Nora called to check on me.  The happiness in my voice wasn’t a lie as it had been the one time my parents had called.

I had managed to go one full week without seeing Enzo.  I think I was hoping that was going to be my new way of life.  It wasn’t.  I had somehow miscalculated when Enzo would be home; I stepped into the kitchen only to find him leaning against the counter, chugging a bottle of water.  He had just come back from a run; that much was clear.  He was in jogging shorts and his shirt had been tucked into the back of them, leaving his sweat glistening torso on display.  Someone upstairs didn’t like me very much.  Otherwise, this man standing before me, my own personal nightmare, wouldn’t be this damn gorgeous.  I felt like my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth as I watched his throat muscles work as the water made its way down.  I openly ogled him before he realized I was there.

As he turned and his eyes met mine, the gold color shone brightly against the sun streaming in.  He truly was magnificent, and I was scared shitless of him.  I took a step back and I swear I saw him cringe. He eyed me warily before he nodded and simply said, “Paige.”  His voice held a touch of malice, but otherwise, it lacked emotion.  It was fitting, considering I wasn’t worth any emotion from his point of view.

I was too stunned to speak as he brushed past me.

The second time I heard, “Oh, Enzo,” was that very night.  I was pretty sure the voice belonged to a different woman, but I couldn’t be sure.  This time, he was in his room, and every time after that as well.  He never had a woman in the living room again.  I supposed I could thank him for small favors.  Although, I was pretty sure listening to his body slap against someone else’s sounded worse than the actual crying out.   I survived listening to the moans and groans as long as I could, but it was too much for me to handle.  I made my way to the farthest point of the house, but it didn’t help.  I heard him and his friend loud and clear.  I grabbed a spare blanket and made my way downstairs.  I was hesitant to lay on the couch, but my body needed to rest more than my mind needed to dwell on what might have happened on that couch.

I turned on the TV quietly, but it was enough to drown out the moans and screams and definitely the “Oh Enzos” and lull me to sleep.  That wasn’t the last time I slept on that couch, not the last by a long shot.