Six thirty? Had I really managed to sleep? I reached for my phone to text Natalia, which was my morning ritual since splitting with Thomas. But I wasn’t sure how to start my message. A lot had happened to unpack.
And Enzo touching me, holding me close to him with his mouth at my ear last night, had met my needs when dance, real-estate classes, tai chi, and that date last night hadn’t come close to doing it.
Me: Enzo spent the night.
The little dots popped up, then disappeared a few times. My sister was probably flustered, but I knew she’d be awake. The little man in her tummy kept her up as much as Chiara’s sleep issues did for me.
Natalia: That’s not what I was expecting for my first text of the day.
Natalia: And this convo demands a phone call.
Me: He slept on the couch insisting he help with Chiara since I haven’t been sleeping well.
Natalia: When will he ever realize he’s not the villain in the story?
I was starting to wonder if there was a fine line between the classic idea of what it meant to be the villain and hero. My limited-to-fiction knowledge was being shaken up and redefined every moment alone I spent with Enzo. Because if he really was the antihero, as he saw himself, what’d that make me for still desperately wanting him?
Natalia: You need to talk to him. Maybe he’ll finally open up?
Me: Yeah, I don’t know. I guess I should go face the music, though. See if they’re awake. Talk tonight at work?
Natalia: Of course. Love you.
Me: Love you, too.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and cover my flimsy nightshirt with a robe.
I caught sight of my tired eyes in the mirror, and visions of last night cut through my mind. My hand wandered down the length of my abdomen as I remembered his hand between my thighs.
“What are you doing to me?” I whispered, then shook my head and finally went in search of the mystery man.
The living room was empty, but his hat was on the couch. He had to be with Chiara, so I went down the hall to her room and gently opened the door, my heart colliding with my rib cage at the sight before me.
Enzo was asleep on the floor by the crib with his muscular, inked arm stretched out. His hand was wedged between the thin slats of wood, and I stepped closer and confirmed my little girl had her hand wrapped around his finger.
And that sight right there . . . was a void-filler for sure. Because my heart had never felt so full at the image.
He really did love Chiara, and I didn’t know how to put into words what that meant to me.
I finally peeled myself away from the room, deciding I’d cook for Enzo for a change and make breakfast.
Once in the kitchen, I grabbed what I needed for an omelet and began chopping a bell pepper but flinched at the feel of a hand skimming my silhouette before going to my hip.
“Enzo,” I whispered, my eyes closing at the feel of his cock twitching against my backside.
He brought his mouth to my ear and in a husky voice asked, “Did you sleep well?”
I leaned into him, letting go of the bell pepper and knife. “Better than you, I think. You didn’t need to sleep on the floor.”
“I can’t say no to her, and you know that.” He abruptly spun me around, and my eyes flashed open as his palms landed on the counter.
“You’re so good at saying no to me, though,” I reminded him as his gaze lowered to my pink robe.
“I didn’t last night, did I?” He kept his eyes on my body as he added with a slight smirk, “Are you cold, or do you not want me to see your nipples poke through that flimsy shirt again? Are you trying to behave?”
Holy hell. From zero to sixty this morning? I had been prepared for a different Enzo when he woke up. One who’d act like yesterday never happened and it’d been a mistake. “I, um.” I swallowed when his eyes journeyed back to my face. “Do you want me to behave?”
He cocked his head as if torn on how to answer that, but I could read the desire written into every line of his face. It’d been there for the last two years, I’d just been living in the land of disbelief so I wasn’t unfaithful to a man who never truly had my heart. And it was easy to understand that now, when the man standing before me so clearly owned it.
I reached up and ran a hand through his messy hair. There was just enough to grab hold of, and he angled his head a touch, as if enjoying my fingers running across his scalp. “Maybe you like it when I’m bad, though?”
He lifted his hands from the counter to untie my robe. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he said in a low, conflicted voice. “I made up my mind last night that there’d be no more repeats of what happened, and then I walked out here and saw you and . . .”
I let go of his hair, searching for his gaze, but he had his eyes down, hidden from me. “And what?” My nipples poked through the fabric as they went hard, and he shifted the robe from my shoulders and pushed it back so it fell to the floor.
“Now all I can think about is making you come, but this time while you sit on my face,” he said in a soft tone, almost as if he’d lost whatever interior battle he’d been fighting and was giving in.
His eyes closed, and that harsh line of his lips told a different story. He was still resisting. It was a warning to me not to get my hopes up. His hands turned to fists and swooped back alongside me, going to the counter once again to trap me.
He let go of a deep breath and finally looked at me. “Maria, I—” He dropped his words when the bell rang, and his gaze snapped toward the foyer. “Who in the hell would be at your door this early?”
My phone was on silent in the other room. My Apple Watch charging by the bed. If someone had called while I was in the kitchen with my sexy chef, I’d have missed it.
Our “almost a moment” was effectively disrupted, and Enzo went to the door.
I hurried after him, and my body went cold when he swung it open, seeing Thomas there.
My ex had on one of his expensive Tom Ford suits, which was tailored to fit his tall and lean frame. The man had always taken care of himself. Worked out four times a week. Meal prepped. And styled his light-brown hair in just a way to give him a magazine-cover-ready look. He kept his beard trimmed and always smelled nice. He was classically handsome and a little too perfect. He’d always made sure I knew that I wasn’t during our marriage.
I self-consciously flung my arms over my chest when I remembered what I was wearing, worried Thomas would see through the flimsy material, and he lost his right to see me when he stuck his tongue between another woman’s legs.
“I knew it.” Those three words ripped from somewhere deep in Thomas’s chest. Words he’d been saving, ready to throw at me. “That’s why she wanted the divorce. You’re fucking my wife.”
I didn’t make it two steps before Thomas snapped out a punch, but Enzo snatched his hand before contact was made, and he simply held Thomas’s fist in the air like it were a fly he’d caught. “Ex-wife,” Enzo seethed. “And the only reason I’m not putting you on your ass right now is because your daughter is asleep in the other room.”
I touched Enzo’s back, hoping to calm him before his control actually did snap. “What are you doing here?”
Thomas had to look around Enzo to put eyes on me. He jerked his hand away and answered, “I’ve been calling to let you know I was on my way to get Chiara, but it looks like you were busy.”
“What do you mean you’re here for Chiara?” Noticing Thomas’s eyes laser-focused on my breasts, I quickly returned my arms over my chest.
And when Enzo turned to the side and peered at me, his brows slanted in anger, clearly not wanting Thomas to see me, either.
“My mom had a heart attack, and she wants to see her granddaughter,” Thomas finally remarked.
“Your robe,” Enzo gruffly stated, ignoring Thomas’s words.
I wasn’t one to obey orders, but I didn’t want any blood spilled on my floors, and I had the distinct feeling Enzo might actually lose his mind if Thomas continued to admire my body. And why in the world was he checking me out now? Desire had been absent from his gaze long before our marriage had ended.
“Is your mother okay?” I finally asked, shaking away my thoughts, and then I motioned for him to follow me. I needed a robe, so it would seem.
Enzo shot his muscular arm out, stopping Thomas. “Give her a moment to cover up,” he nearly snarled, lifting his chin as if saying, Don’t think about arguing.
Thomas scowled, apparently in no mood to cower to the intimidating man today like he’d done in the past. Not that I cared, but he’d grown a pair since we’d split. “My mom will be okay,” he finally answered, eyes back on me. “She’s being discharged from the ER, but I’m taking off work to visit, and I’m bringing Chiara with me.”
My arms fell weakly to my sides at the idea of this man taking my daughter away on a trip without me. Enzo shot me daggers, then hissed something in Italian, and before I knew it, he hurried past me and returned within seconds with my robe in hand. Bossy, bossy.
“My parents live an hour away. It’s not like I’m taking her out of the country. But part of the divorce arrangement is that I get to go on two trips with her a year to see my family. And, well, it’s happening now.” Thomas’s angry stare bounced between Enzo and me as if daring me to challenge him on this or else.
“I need time. I can’t just . . .” I slipped on the robe and tied the belt, and Enzo seemed to breathe again.
“It’s her grandmother. I know you never liked my mom, but this isn’t about you, is it?” Thomas snapped.
“Your mom hates me. Hated us together,” I reminded him. “God, the number of times she complained I wasn’t good enough. Too curvy. Too—”
“Looks like the divorce helped you drop a few pounds,” Thomas noted, his eyes moving over my body yet again, probably to piss off Enzo. Such a bad idea. “Though it seems you kept the curves where they matter.”
Enzo had Thomas against the wall within a second, a forearm to his windpipe. “Go ahead,” Enzo challenged in an eerily low voice, “say that again.”
Thomas gripped Enzo’s forearm, struggling to breathe. He searched for help from me, but he’d been the idiot to goad a man like Enzo.
Reluctantly, I decided to save him. “Enzo.” I grabbed his shoulder and yanked. “Stop.”
Enzo’s shoulders fell, and he finally released him.
Thomas circled a hand around his throat as if mortified at what had happened. “I’m taking Chiara with me. Don’t make me get the lawyers involved,” Thomas declared, and that threat was the real knife to the heart. That was the last thing in the world I wanted.
“How many days?” I’d never been away from her for more than forty-eight hours. He had her only two weekends a month. And it was always hell, those forty-eight or so hours.
“As long as nothing critical with work pops up, I’ll be there until Sunday.” He adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket and squared his shoulders, as if trying to regain some of his manhood that Enzo had stolen.
But wait. Sunday? Today was Tuesday. Ohhh hell no. “Thomas, I understand it’s part of our arrangement, but that’s a long trip. And I don’t feel comfortable with this.”
“Well, you have an hour to get comfortable with it, because that’s when I’m leaving, and Chiara’s coming with me.” Thomas turned and shot me a look from over his shoulder. “Bring her to my place by eight, or I’m calling the lawyers, and you’ll be the one with trip restraints.” He snarled as he headed for the door, and I tried to process everything that’d just happened. Was he really threatening me?
“Tell me what you want me to do.” Enzo gently held both my arms, urging me to look at him after the door closed. “Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but it felt like he was suggesting he could “handle” my ex for me in a way that wouldn’t involve lawyers. Chills crept up my spine at the thought. But he wouldn’t really . . . would he?
My lower lip quivered as his gaze met mine. “Your past really is dark, isn’t it?” I whispered as recognition dawned on me. “And I don’t mean from your time in the army.”
He let go of me and tapped a fist against his lips twice, as if grappling with what to say.
“Dark as in dark-dark?” I couldn’t even ask the real question burning hot through my mind. I’d be naive to think he’d never taken a life while in uniform, but had he taken one outside the army?
“The irredeemable kind of dark, Maria,” he returned in a low voice, and his pained expression as he stared at me was an answer in itself.
“You killed Bianca’s murderer.” It was no longer a question occupying that back corner of my mind. It was now a fact. One scribed in blood.
But that meant someone rewrote the history of what happened to her killer, then, right?
His brows slanted over his guilt-filled eyes. But nothing came from his parted lips.
I drew my palm from my collarbone down to my stomach, trying to quell the flutter of nerves unleashing hell there. “I thought karma killed that man.” My voice cracked with disbelief. “I remember my parents telling me Bianca’s killer had been in a car accident, and he drowned in the Hudson.” I waited for Enzo to say something. Anything. But he kept quiet, so I went on. “Did you cut his brakes? How’d you do it?”
He dipped his head, catching my eyes, and with grit to his tone, he rasped, “Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to have answered.” His Adam’s apple rolled with a harsh swallow. “Let. It. Go.”
“Enzo, please, I need to know if—”
“Yes,” he nearly snarled, his nostrils flaring. “I killed him. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I don’t regret it, not for one second.”
“And if Thomas ever hurt me, you really meant what you said on my birthday?” My gaze landed on the words inked beneath the sword on his forearm. “No mercy?”
He nodded, his jaw tightening beneath his dark stubble. “And, Maria?” He gently held my chin. “When it comes to that man . . . I’d enjoy every fucking minute of it,” he murmured darkly.
