My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 50

Samuel's POV

When I barged into the room, the sight of Fiona laughing so freely, so... carelessly, set something off in me. Her voice, filled with genuine joy, echoed through the walls of my mansion—a place that still felt alien to me. And then there was Bruno, standing next to her, smiling along, like some fool entertaining the lady of the house. What the hell was going on here?

"What the hell is going on here?" My voice thundered through the room, startling both of them.

Bruno, always quick on his feet, discreetly shut down the game console they were playing on. Fiona, though clearly still terrified by my presence—her shoulders tense and her jaw tight—had the audacity to act as if I wasn’t even in the room. She continued talking to Bruno, ignoring my outburst.

“Boss,” Bruno greeted me respectfully as he moved past, clearly avoiding eye contact as he left the room.

I stared after him for a second, but my gaze quickly snapped back to Fiona as she made to follow. She walked past me without so much as acknowledging my presence, as if I were invisible in my own house. Not today.

I grabbed her arm, jerking her back toward me. "I'm talking to you!" My voice was low but laced with the fury simmering just beneath the surface.

She turned to face me but remained silent, her eyes hard with defiance. I hated that look. She was my wife. My wife. And she would damn well acknowledge me.

Without thinking, I dragged her through the hallway toward the master bedroom I had abandoned her in last night. The echo of our footsteps on the marble floor filled the space, but she didn’t fight back. Not yet.

I shoved her into the room, slamming the door behind us. My eyes traveled over her, taking in the outfit she was wearing—or rather, the lack of it. It was one of my shirts, its fabric hugging her curves in ways that were maddening. The deep V-neck dipped scandalously low, exposing her silky skin. My gaze stopped short at the sight of her nipples peaking through the thin fabric. She hadn’t bothered to put on a bra.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I demanded, the anger from earlier now mixing with something else, something dangerous.

Her stance shifted, and her lips twisted into a mocking smile. "What’s it to you?" she asked, her voice cold. "What I wear isn’t your business."

My blood boiled. "It is my business," I shot back, stepping closer. "You're my wife, dressed like that in a house full of men. Male guards!"

She laughed in my face, a harsh, bitter sound. "Oh, am I now? Your wife? After yesterday? After you told me you hated me? Well, Samuel, I must have missed the memo." Her voice was sharp, cutting deep. "You made it clear that I'm not your business anymore."

I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the rage that was threatening to burst free. "You claim you're changed, but here you are, walking around dressed like some cheap—"

The slap hit my chest before I could finish the sentence. Her small hand struck hard, fueled by her fury.

"Don’t you dare," she spat. "Don’t you dare reduce me to that."

I grabbed her wrist, yanking her closer. "Don’t pull this childish tantrum with me," I growled. "Take off the damn shirt."

Her eyes flashed with anger as she yanked her arm free. "You took my clothes, you idiot!" she yelled, her voice trembling with rage. "And if you were smart enough, you’d have told your people to bring them up to me. But no, that would require actually thinking about someone other than yourself!"

Her words hit me like a slap to the face. She was right. I had stripped her of everything, locked her in this mansion, and hadn’t bothered to think about her beyond my anger. But I wasn’t about to admit that.

I turned on my heel, storming toward the door, my mind racing. Just as I pulled it open, Bruno stood there, holding Fiona’s bags. He’d clearly been listening.

I shot him a glare. "Drop the bags and see me in my study," I barked.

He did as I ordered, placing the bags gently inside the room before stepping out.

Moments later, Bruno was in my office, standing with his usual calm demeanor as if nothing had happened.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked, my voice cold.

Bruno remained unfazed. "I found her looking for something to clean the shattered glass in your office. She didn’t have anything else to wear, so I helped her."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you didn’t think to tell my wife that she’s not appropriately dressed?"

He shrugged. "Not my place, boss. Besides, I figured she didn’t have anything else to wear. She seems decent."

"Don’t tell me if she’s decent or not, Bruno," I snapped. "You don’t know her. Next time, leave my wife alone. You’re paid to secure the house, not to entertain her."

"Understood," he replied, turning to leave.

I watched him go, the anger in me still simmering, threatening to spill over. What was this? Why was everything concerning Fiona so out of control?

With a sigh, I returned to Fiona’s room, ready to fight more. I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in something more appropriate but still glaring daggers at me.

"You’re acting like a man going through a midlife crisis," she said, her voice sharp. "Is it your age, Samuel? Is that why you’re so petty? Or maybe it’s because you can’t control everything like you thought you could?"

Her words hit harder than I expected, but I refused to let her see it.

"I’m not the one walking around in someone else’s shirt, pretending to be free," I shot back.

"Free?" she scoffed. "This body is mine. I can do whatever I want with it."

I stepped closer, the tension thick in the air between us. "Not anymore. You’re mine. You live under my roof now."

The argument escalated quickly. She pushed against my chest in frustration, and before I knew what was happening, I caught her wrist, pulling her toward me. The heat between us shifted, the anger transforming into something more dangerous. I felt my control slipping, my lips crashing against hers.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to want her like this, not after everything. But the moment our lips met, all the rage, all the tension, melted into a burning need.

Fiona hesitated, but then, she kissed me back. For a moment, we were lost in it, the passion overwhelming everything else.

But then she pulled away, pushing against my chest. I stumbled back, reality crashing in. What the hell was I doing?

I forced myself to breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. "I kissed you," I said, my voice rough, "just so you know that you belong to me."

Her eyes widened, and I saw the confusion there, the uncertainty. I turned and stormed out of the room, out of the mansion, my mind racing.

I drove to the beach house, the one place where I could escape. But no matter how far I went, I couldn’t escape the storm raging inside me.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.