blood runs black

XIV

'she was always into taking those chances'

- chase atlantic

dior

Dior woke up alarmed, because for a moment, she forgot where she was. And then it dawned on her that she'd slept in Enzo's bed, right after sleeping with him twice, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Enzo sitting against the headboard beside her, scrolling on his phone with glasses on.

"You wear glasses?"

"Occasionally."

Dior nodded, because that was enough talking for the morning. "I'm going to shower."

"Want me to join you?" Enzo asked, that stupid cocky smirk back on his face. 

"I'd like to be able to go home somewhat mobile, thanks."

When Dior got out of bed, she couldn't help but notice the fact that she wasn't completely naked, despite the fact that she fell asleep without clothes on. Enzo, whilst she was asleep, must've put his button-up shirt on her, giving her just a little bit of privacy as she slept. 

Again, it felt far too intimate, and it made her feel uncomfortable.

At the same time, she wondered if the somewhat sweet gesture was unsettling. Because if he'd put clothes on her whilst she was sleeping, even though it was just a shirt, was that all he did? She trusted him with her body, and her body whilst she was asleep, and she wasn't sure yet if Enzo was the type to respect that.

She let the thought slip out of her mind, picking her bag and her clothes up from the floor, and made her way into the bathroom. She only knew where it was because she'd gone to the toilet before she fell asleep. 

There was nothing valuable to observe from Enzo's bathroom. He was clean, and had minimal products, and that was about it. 

Dior checked her phone quickly, seeing that it was just past eleven in the morning, and got a scrunchie out from her bag, throwing her hair into a bun before stepping into the shower. She wasn't going to attempt to wash her hair in Enzo's shower, because he most definitely did not have the products she needed to wash her hair.

Once she was out of the shower, she grabbed a towel from one of the shelves and wrapped it around her upper body, moving in front of the sink and mirror, checking her reflection. Most of her makeup was gone now, unsurprisingly, so the bruises on her face were visible now. They weren't bad, compared to the ones on her stomach and back.

Enzo walked in, choosing to shower once he'd heard her step out, and couldn't help but notice how vulnerable and raw Dior looked in the morning light. She was completely bare of all defences, weapon-wise, and with the fact that she had most of her makeup gone, and was wrapped in only a towel. 

He couldn't help but stare at the bruises on her face, and the ones on her upper back. He'd seen the others on her stomach in dim lighting, and he was sure there must've been more on her back, beneath the towel, and he couldn't help but worry. Just a little bit. 

Enzo didn't care for Dior, not at all. He just happened to have basic human emotions.

"You look terrible."

Dior turned to look at Enzo, a scowl on her face. "Aww, thanks."

"Not in that way." Enzo said, moving past her to step into the shower. "I just mean, without your makeup and everything."

"You're making it worse."

"The bruises. I'm talking about the bruises."

And Enzo really didn't care, he really didn't. After all, he'd given her bruises just like those, and she'd done the same to him. Hell, he had scars from the fights he had with Dior, and so did she. He'd noticed them whilst they slept together, and could see a few then and there. But it just looked like whoever had hurt her had hurt her and meant it.

That threw him off, just a little.

"You look like you lost the fight."

"I'll have you know I didn't." Dior lied easily. "I just get these men to fight me with no remorse whenever I'm sparring. Makes me a better fighter. You should know, since I've knocked your ass down on many occasions."

Dior slipped the towel off, putting her bra and underwear back on, Enzo watching her the whole time. His eyes were fixated on the bruises down her back, like someone had tossed her around like a ragdoll. And in the mirror, in the light of his bathroom, the bruises on her stomach looked darker, more painful.

He wondered if their night together irritated the bruises or not. He had no intention of hurting her in the bedroom - unless she wanted that. Outside of the bedroom, however, he'd be happy to try and take her life again.

"And equally, I've done the same to you. Doesn't bother my ego."

"Doesn't it?" 

Enzo rolled his eyes, giving her another once over before turning away to wash his hair. "Just get out already."

"See you next time?"

"We're making this a thing?" Enzo asked, despite the fact that he was absolutely okay with making this a regular thing. Good sex was good sex. Who was he to pass that up? "Why, Castillo, you falling for me?"

"You're a good fuck, Moretti, that's all." Dior shrugged. "And don't get cocky, you're thinking the same thing as me."

"That I am."

"I still hate you." Dior said firmly. "And if I see you in public, I will try to kill you. But you'll see me here again when I'm not so sore, and we'll do this shit again."

"Can't wait, doll."

Dior shook her head and finished getting dressed. She kept her hair in the bun, because once her curls went into a bun, they looked awful when they were down. She needed to wash her hair at home anyway. Without a second glance at Enzo's beautifully toned body, she left the bathroom, prepared to do some quick snooping before he left the shower.

She picked up her heels from the bedroom floor, keeping them off so she could walk more quietly. The bedroom had nothing of convenience, which was sorely disappointing but not unexpected. The rest of the penthouse had cameras, annoyingly, and there was one room with two locks and two cameras directly above the door, which Dior decided was the jackpot.

She'd have to explore it another time, though, because Enzo would surely be out of the shower soon, and she didn't have the time to try and hack into his home security and break through the locks. Besides, it was only day one. She had more time.

Dior slipped her Louboutin's on and left the penthouse. 

She'd be back soon. But first, she had someone to talk to.