Chapter 10: Translator to the enemy

Belle Rose

“Damn it!” A guy’s voice echoes from the meeting room. As Sofia and I step in with their food, the room is filled with hushed whispers.

The chatter stops as we enter. Unfamiliar faces on one side of the table, Enzo and his crew on the other. Enzo’s gaze lands on me, his head resting in his palm, a look of frustration on his face.

I set a plate in front of a guest seated in the middle. He grabs my wrist, and I glance at Enzo. His face tightens, a scowl forming.

“~Ești atât de frumoasă~ (you are so beautiful),” the man flirts in Romanian.

“~Vă mulțumesc~ (thank you),” I respond with a polite smile, gently pulling my hand from his grip. His face fills with confusion as he turns to face me.

“Vorbești română (do you speak Romanian)?” he asks.

“~Da~ (yes),” I murmur.

“Belle,” Enzo calls, rising from his seat. He leads me out of the room, pulling my arm. “What are you doing?” he grumbles.

“Am I not allowed to talk to him?” I challenge. Why do I always do this to myself? He narrows his eyes, backing me against the nearest wall, towering over me.

“We don’t have a translator. You speak Romanian?” he asks, his breath warm against my face.

“Yes.”

“How? You’re not Romanian,” he states, as if he knows everything about me. He doesn’t even know I’m Italian, probably because of my changed last name.

“My dad didn’t let me go to high school. He met a lot of people who spoke different languages, and I decided to learn some,” I answer honestly, meeting his gaze.

“You speak it fluently?” he asks. I nod, and he takes my hand, leading me back into the room. He has me sit next to him at the table, taking his brother’s place. “She’s the translator,” he announces, raising his eyebrows at me.

“~Sunt translatorul~ (I’m the translator),” I tell the man. He nods, smirking.

After a long and surprisingly interesting meeting, the guests leave, thanking me. Now it’s just Enzo and his men in the room with me. I start to leave, but Enzo grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him.

“Everyone out,” he orders. The guys obey, leaving the room. I notice Rafael, Luca, and another guy—probably Leo—smirking at me as they leave. “Sit.” I sit next to him, my anxiety making me squirm.

I look up at him, my face pleading ‘don’t punish me again’. He leans back in his chair, studying my face, making me even more nervous. I start to fidget with my fingers, my nails scraping against each other. “Some,” he says after a long silence.

“Some?”

“You said ‘I decided to learn some’. That’s more than one. What’s some?” He lifts me from my seat and places me on his lap. His hands naturally settle on my butt, rubbing my skin as he usually does.

“Um... I know Romanian, and French, um... Russian and Mandarin and Spanish,” I tell him. He raises his eyebrows, searching my face.

“~Gattina, conosci l'italiano~ (kitten, do you know Italian)?” He holds my chin between his thumb and fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Why lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie. You never asked,” I respond. I can’t stop myself from talking back to this dangerous man. He’s killed people. He’s hurt me. He kidnapped me. I should be terrified of him, but I’m not.

“No, I didn’t,” he agrees, his lips brushing against mine. “~Hai sentito un sacco di cose~ (you’ve heard a lot of things). ~Più di quanto avresti dovuto, forse~ (more than you probably should have). ~Ma tu sei mio~ (but you’re mine), ~hmm?~”

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

He kisses me, his lips forceful and rough. He bites my lip, seeking entrance into my mouth, and I let him in. His tongue explores my mouth.

He squeezes my butt, making me moan into his mouth. I can feel his smirk, but he continues to kiss me, his tongue dancing with mine. Why am I kissing him back?

Why do I like the way he’s holding me? This is how I dreamt he would kiss me, with this fierce passion and dominance. Why do I like this?

He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine, still holding me close.

“You let him touch you,” he whispers. I tense up, not wanting another spanking, even though it turned me on. “But since you helped me, I’ll forgive it.”

My eyes widen. “You will?”

“Yes. I’m changing your job here too.”

“To what?”

“My translator. You’ll sit in all my meetings and you won’t speak to anyone else here about what you hear. Understand, ~gattina~?” I nod. He lifts me off his lap and onto my feet.

Suddenly, his hand smacks my butt, making me gasp and spin around to face him. He smirks at me and stands, looming over me, trying to intimidate me.

“Got something on your mind, ~piccola~?” His words are playful, but his eyes are anything but. “You’re mine. I can do whatever I want with you. You have a problem with that?” His voice is deep, commanding.

His gaze is intense, demanding my submission. I can only swallow hard and shake my head in response.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Head to the kitchen and help them clean up. It’s your last day as a waitress. Ranger will show you to your new room.” New room?

Before I can question him, he sends me out of the room with a swat on my behind and shuts the door. I’m left standing in the hallway, confused and strangely aroused.

Back in the kitchen, I grab a cloth and start wiping down the counters.

“What happened?” Sofia rushes over, Gia trailing behind her. The entire kitchen staff is waiting for the juicy details. “Was he angry?”

“He needed a translator. He asked me to stay in his meeting and translate. Then he decided to make me his translator,” I explain, and I hear Joe scoff from where he’s leaning against the counter with the other cooks.

“You’re kidding, right? He said you’re going to be his translator?” Joe sounds skeptical. I just nod and keep cleaning. “Why? You need to be multilingual for that.”

“I am.”

“You can’t even speak Italian. That’s why you always serve their dinners,” Gia snaps, her eyes narrowed.

“I do speak Italian, actually,” I mumble, avoiding their stares.

“~Sei proprio una puttanella~ (you’re such a slut),” Gia taunts, smirking at me.

“~Solo uno può riconoscerne un altro~ (it takes one to know one),” I shoot back, moving to clean another counter. The kitchen erupts in laughter—most of them are Italian—and I hear Gia huff in annoyance.

“Belle,” Ranger calls, and I follow him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“To your new room.”

“And where’s that?” He looks down at me, his face filled with concern.

“Not in the staff quarters,” he answers. Why is he being so vague?

We arrive at my old room and I start packing my things into the bag he hands me. “Leave the uniforms. He’s getting you new clothes.” So all I have left are my undergarments, which are more like lingerie. Lace thongs and skimpy bras, all in my exact size.

Ranger leads me out of the staff quarters and across the house, to the wing where Enzo and his brothers sleep. I spot Luca in the hallway, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What’s going on, Ranger?” he asks, smirking.

“None of your business. These are Enzo’s orders,” Ranger retorts, ushering me into the room next to us and shutting the door. He’s careful not to touch me, probably another one of Enzo’s orders.

“Have you known Enzo for a long time?”

“We grew up together. Our moms were friends, so we were too. I’m his right-hand man, besides his brothers,” he explains, taking my bag and setting it down by the closet.

“This room, your new room, connects to his.” I think I already knew that. I figured I was being moved closer to him, so he could have easy access to me. Just a door away.

The connecting door is right next to the head of the bed, the perfect spot for him to sneak up on me while I’m sleeping. How am I supposed to sleep now?