What the hell did I do?
That’s the question I’ve been asking myself on repeat since Enzo left the apartment.
I don’t know what the hell came over me while I was sitting on his lap, but I could feel his hard length beneath me and just couldn’t stop myself from grinding against him. I was about to open my mouth and tell him to kiss me when his phone rang. And just like a bucket of ice water washing over me, the spell broke and I was too embarrassed to stick around and see what he had to say.
I was pacing the bedroom, gearing up to go out and talk to him about what had happened when he called out to let me know he was heading to the hospital, I didn’t even get a chance to ask him if everything was okay before I heard the door to the apartment locking behind him.
He’s texted me since to let me know that his brother has finally woken up and that he’ll be home in an hour. That was thirty minutes ago and now I’m freaking out, back to pacing the bedroom while I wait for him.
What do I say to him? I can’t exactly look him in the eye and say sorry for trying to get myself off on your lap, it just felt so good being close to you, he’ll think I’m some sort of freak.
I told him I wanted to be friends because that’s what I should want. This isn’t one of my books where the girl falls for the bad boy, and they get the happily ever after. That will never happen to me, I’ve spent my whole life resigned to the fact that good things don’t happen to me. It’d be pointless for me to hope for more, I’ll only be setting myself up for heartbreak. So why the hell do I want to suddenly throw caution to the wind and give it a shot?
Why do I want nothing more than to be wrapped up in Enzo and finally let myself be happy while knowing full well that this will only end one way—me putting the broken pieces of myself back together.
It can’t work. It won’t work.
Except maybe it could, that little voice in the back of my mind whispers and I have to fight with myself to ignore it.
I check the time again and see that I still have twenty-six minutes until Enzo is home and it’s at that point that I realize I haven’t eaten dinner. Hell, I didn’t eat lunch either.
I make my way through the apartment and into the kitchen. Enzo had groceries delivered at some point yesterday since he didn’t have much here when I arrived and me and Marco were basically living off take-out while he was gone.
I get to work making spaghetti and meatballs, just wanting something quick and simple while also being a home-cooked meal that Enzo can have once he’s home, if he hasn’t already eaten. Time passes quickly as I busy myself in the kitchen and the next thing I know, I hear the telltale sign of the front door being unlocked and opened.
I’m not worried about anyone other than Enzo walking through that door because he told me that he has his men stationed in and around the building—including the hallway and stairway that leads to the apartment—so I know no one other than him would be able to make it this far.
“Angel?” I hear his gruff voice call out.
“Kitchen,” I shout back to him.
His footsteps sound through the apartment before he appears opposite me on the other side of the kitchen island. His gaze sweeps over me to the dinner I’ve just finished preparing before it settles on my face.
“You made dinner.” His voice is full of awe and wonder, as though never in his wildest dreams did he think he would come home to find me cooking.
I suppose it probably is a little strange that I’ve just helped myself in his home, but he’s the one wanting me to stay here for the foreseeable future, what does he expect?
“I was hungry.” I shrug. “I also didn’t know if you had already had dinner, so there’s a plate for you too, but if you’ve eaten I’ll just put it in Tupperware for you to have later,” I say, suddenly nervous.
A wide smile lights up his face that threatens to steal the breath right from my lungs.
“Come on angel, let’s eat.”
Enzo sets the table for us both before carrying our plates over. We sit and eat while making small talk. Neither of us mention what happened earlier today before he left for the hospital, and I prefer it that way. I’m not sure I’m ready to have that conversation yet. He tells me about his brother, and how he was convinced Izzy was going to leave him, but they’ve since sorted out their differences. Honestly, their relationship is confusing to me, but I let him tell me anyways.
He’s animated as he tells me about his sister-in-law, and I realize that she’s probably the first person he’s had a close relationship with that doesn’t share his blood.
Once we finish eating, Enzo tells me to pick a movie while he does the dishes. I’m sitting on the couch, flicking through the options on the tv while watching him out of the corner of my eye. Everything with him is so casual, and it all feels very domesticated. Tonight has been so relaxed, you’d have thought we did this every night and not that we don’t actually really know anything about each other, other than whatever he learned about me from his research.
I decide on some cheesy rom-com for us to watch since Enzo left it up to me to choose—he probably won’t watch it anyways—and he joins me on the sofa.
“What’s got you thinking so hard?” he asks.
“Just that I don’t really know anything about you, and I’m not sure how much you know about me. It’s weird that we’re basically strangers yet here I am, staying with you.” I shift, so I’m sitting in the corner of the sofa, legs tucked underneath me as I face him. Enzo turns too so that he’s casually leaning against the arm of the sofa facing towards me.
“I only know the generic stuff that Izzy gave me, I didn’t want to get too much information on you that way. You wanna get to know me, angel? Wanna get to know each other? I’d love that… let’s play a game.”
“Game?”
He seriously wants to play a game?
“Uh huh, twenty questions. You can start.” He smirks at me, burrowing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.
He wants me to start? What the hell am I supposed to ask him? There’s so much I’ve been wanting to know, but now that I have the opportunity to ask my mind suddenly blanks and I can’t think of a single thing. Enzo must sense me struggling because he lets out a deep chuckle.
“Alright, angel, I guess I’ll start. Favorite food?”
“Tacos, you?”
“Mmm, right now it’s my dad’s lasagna that he would make when we were kids, but I have a feeling it could change some time soon.” He gives me a cheeky grin and I furrow my brows.
Is he talking about my food becoming his favorite? I’ve only made him spaghetti and meatballs, the sauce straight from a jar so it’s not like—and it hits me… he’s not talking about food at all. My cheeks heat from the insinuation as images flash through my mind of earlier today and what could have happened if we weren’t interrupted.
I clear my throat, though it comes out as more of a squeak before Enzo takes pity on me and continues to play the game. We sit there for hours, and I learn more about Enzo in that time than I have since the moment we officially met.
Favorite restaurant? Di Nuovo’s—also the restaurant I last went on a date—which just so happens to be owned by his family.
Favorite color? Green—like my eyes.
Favorite person? Me.
Second favorite person? Izzy.
Favorite book? Doesn’t really have one.
Favorite time of year? Fall.
We’ve changed positions now, I’m lying on the sofa, feet resting in Enzo’s lap as he strokes my ankles, drawing invisible lines with the pad of his finger.
“Okay, last one. What made you get the angel wings tattooed on your back?” I ask.
His cheeks pinken the slightest bit and holy shit… is he blushing? “You saw that, huh?” I raise a brow, and he swallows before continuing, “I got that three days after I first saw you in the club, you were an angel that I wanted to have with me, always.”
Speechless.
I’m speechless.
He hadn’t even met me yet and he got a tattoo dedicated to me. I think I’m starting to realize that Enzo really does have feelings for me, he just doesn’t know what they mean or how to navigate them, which is why he went about it all the wrong way.
“Don’t worry, angel, you don’t need to say anything.” Enzo smirks. “You’re back at work tomorrow, better get that pretty little ass of yours to bed.”
He has a point. We’ve been talking for hours and it’s already past midnight. I nod silently, not trusting myself to say anything right now and pull my legs away from him before rising from the sofa.
Enzo stands too and presses a hand to my lower back, guiding me to my room. He stops just outside the threshold of the door and leans down. At first, I think he might kiss me, but instead he presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers, “Goodnight, uccellina.” His warm breath against my neck sends a shiver up my spine and has my body tingling.
“Goodnight,” I whisper back, but he’s already walking away, my voice too quiet to be heard.
