“I’m not mad, Enzo. I’m just disappointed that you think I’m that low,” I retorted my voice tight with controlled fury.
“Oh really? But you’re being dramatic right now. Can’t you see yourself? You’re acting like a kid!” he lashed out.
My blood boiled. He was acting like he could still control me, like I would always be his obedient wife. But that was over. I was tired of his hypocrisy.
I refused to argue any further. I went to my bed and lay down, my hands clutching my suitcase as if it were a weapon. Enzo, oblivious to my growing anger, was still busy packing his gift for Amelia.
***
The next morning, I woke early. When I left my room, I was amused to see Enzo all dressed up, clearly preparing for something.
“Amanda, it’s Amelia’s birthday. I want you to make her a delicious cake,” Enzo commanded as if it were the most natural thing in the world to order me around.
“Enzo, I’m not a baker. Why would you ask me to bake for her?” I asked incredulously, my voice laced with disbelief.
Enzo grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight. “No more questions. Do what I say!”
Amanda's P. O. V