I don’t know what the hell possessed me to break down in the arms of my mysterious stalker, all I know is that—for some unknown reason—I feel safe in his arms.
The tears have stopped coming now and my body has stopped trembling.
But Enzo hasn’t loosened his hold on me.
He hasn’t stopped whispering sweet words into my ear.
He hasn’t let me go, and I don’t think I want him to.
I should be scared. Hell, I should be terrified, but there’s something about him that just makes me want to tell him all my worries, I want to share my pain with him and let him help me heal.
Except I can’t stay here, I can’t stay on his lap like this when we’re in the middle of my bookstore on a Friday afternoon.
I pull myself back away from his chest and look down at his hoodie, cringing when I see the wet patch from my tears.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not trusting my voice right now.
“Nothing to apologize for angel, now tell me what happened,” he demands, and I swallow the lump that’s building in my throat.
“I need to close the store first, then we can talk.”
“Already done.” He flicks his head in the direction of the door, and I see the open sign has been flipped around.
“I sent a text to one of my men and they changed it for you while we’ve been sat here. I didn’t want to move you,” he says with a look of vulnerability.
I don’t think I ever expected a man like Enzo to get nervous.
Jesus, he’s known as the unhinged Mafia prince, yet he’s nervous about having someone come in and close my store for me while I was in the middle of a panic attack.
I give him a small nod before clearing my throat and standing up. His arms follow me for a second when I stand as if he really didn’t want to let me go.
Guess the feeling is mutual.
I take a seat on the chair opposite and wait for him to bombard me with questions.
Only he doesn’t, he sits patiently, waiting for me to start.
And I guess if he wants my truth, then he’ll have to give me his in return.
“Why were you stalking me?” I ask and his brows raise to his hairline, clearly not expecting me to jump straight to that question.
“I wasn’t stalking… or I guess I was, just not in that sense,” he sighs before leaning back in his chair and looking up to the ceiling for a second before he lowers his head, and his chocolate brown eyes connect with mine.
“I first saw you one night in Spotlights. You were at the bar wearing a white dress and downing tequila. I didn’t think you were real at first, you looked like a fucking angel, far too good for this world. I was going to come and speak to you, but you disappeared before I could.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I had Izzy hack the cameras and she used some high-tech thing to figure out who you were, so I started watching you, keeping an eye on you to make sure you were safe.”
Out of all the things he could have said, I never could have imagined that this is how it all played out. I figured he just saw me through the store window one day and decided to stick around.
And I didn’t for a second think that his sister-in-law could have known about this from the very beginning.
“I just wanted to make sure you had someone to look out for you, and the obsession kinda just spiraled.”
He doesn’t look apologetic, not in the slightest.
I guess maybe the rumors are true—he is a little crazy.
But aren’t we all?
It makes so much more sense now, how I always felt the sensation of being watched as I walked home alone at night. I’ve always felt safe when he watched me—that was until the feeling stopped, and I didn’t see him again until now.
“What made you stop?” I ask.
Did he lose interest? Did he suddenly move onto the next girl in his little neighborhood watch scheme? Did he just—
“You went out on a date, with that chino wearing little fucker, and I snapped. I sat and watched as he kissed you, and I couldn’t take it. I decided to let you live your life, no matter how much it pained me to stay away. Which I’m really fucking regretting now since you got hurt and I wasn’t around to help you. I need you to tell me what happened angel, please.”
He looks like he’s in pain, like the thought of me being in danger physically hurts him.
I fist my hands at my sides to keep from reaching out to him while I take a deep breath in preparation to tell him what happened.
“I, um… my brother owes money to someone, I guess. A man turned up at my apartment looking for him, then threatened me when I told him I don’t have contact with him.”
“What did he threaten you with, uccellina?”
His eyes have turned black, and I can feel the anger emanating from him as he waits for me to answer.
“What. Did. He. Threaten. You. With.” He enunciates each word as though he’s spiraling as the rage takes over.
“He said that I have two weeks, and if Jeremy hasn’t paid him then he’ll take his payment another way… he hinted that he’ll take his payment with me,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches before he stands abruptly and roars, “Fuck!”
The action makes me jolt backwards and I sit still as he paces in front of me and murmurs to himself.
He stops his pacing suddenly and spins around to face me, determination written all over his handsome face.
“He isn’t getting anywhere near you, angel. I promise, he’ll have to go through me first.”
“You can’t know that,” I whisper in response.
“Let me put it in simpler terms for you, angel. I’m going to find out exactly who he is, then I’m going to find him and fucking rip his heart straight out of his chest for daring to lay a hand on you. No one gets to touch you, Robyn. No. One.” He hisses the last words and my breath hitches as I take in the reality of the situation.
Enzo isn’t just anyone issuing these threats. No, he’s part of the Mafia and won’t hesitate to kill someone on my behalf.
That thought should scare the living hell out of me.
I should be running for the hills and trying to get away from him.
So why does the thought of him killing someone who would hurt me make me want to run to him rather than away? Why does it send a thrill through my veins and a lightning bolt of lust straight to my center? Why does it make me want him to wrap me back up in his arms and never let me go?
I guess I’m just as crazy as he is.
The past two days have been strange to say the least.
After the whole meltdown in the middle of the store thing on Friday, Enzo invited himself up to my apartment and made me sit and tell him everything that happened that night, right down to the very last detail.
I remember being so worn out from recalling the details and breaking down earlier in the day that my body ended up crashing.
I woke up in bed with no recollection of how I got there and the whirring sounds of a drill filling the apartment. After I’d used the bathroom and gotten washed and dressed, I walked out into the hall to find Enzo standing on a ladder drilling a hole into my wall.
Enzo stands on a ladder, his black jeans hugging his legs and his shirt nowhere to be seen.
Black swirls of ink cover his back in what looks like… is that wings?
The man has a huge tattoo of angel wings covering his back.
“What are you doing?” I ask, announcing my presence.
“Installing cameras,” he says nonchalantly, like the answer was obvious.
“What the hell do you mean you’re installing cameras? You can’t just let yourself in here and start messing with things. And you can’t just install cameras inside my apartment so you can watch me whenever you want. I know you have this whole creepy stalker vibe going for you, but this is too far, it’s not cute.”
He steps down from the ladder and turns to smirk at me.
God, he’s infuriating.
“Firstly, I didn’t let myself in here. I just never left.” He must see my eyes widen because he points to the couch where a blanket and pillow lay haphazardly on the arm.
So he slept on my couch? He didn’t try to get in bed with me?
What sort of obsessed stalker is he?
And why am I hurt that he didn’t want to share my bed?
Jesus, I’m fucking losing it.
“Secondly, I’m installing cameras because I want you to be safe and I need to be able to see if anyone comes by here. I won’t have access to them, only you will. They’re purely for precaution, nothing else.”
Okay, that makes sense, I guess.
“I’ve also changed all the locks to your apartment and to the store. My brother’s friend owns a security company, and he hooked me up with his latest equipment. You need a key and a code to enter. The code is 022424,” he says and smiles proudly at me.
“Why that code?”
“Because it was the first time I saw you,” he says as though it’s obvious and I fight the need to roll my eyes at the fact he memorized the date.
“Okay… anything else I should know about?”
He bites his lip and looks nervous for a moment until his demeanor shifts to determination.
“Yeah… one last thing. There’s a watch in the bag on the counter,” he says and nods towards a small red gift bag sitting on my kitchen counter. “The watch has a small latch on it that I need you to press if you’re ever in danger and I’m not around. It’ll turn on a tracker and I’ll get an alert straight to my phone. I need you to wear it angel, for your safety and my own peace of mind,” he murmurs and shuffles in place as though he’s waiting for me to blow up at him.
I honestly don’t know what the hell to make of all of this.
This isn’t normal, right?
“I met you a couple of weeks ago when you bought books from my store. Now you’re sleeping on my couch, installing cameras, changing my locks and fitting me with a tracker. You realize this is crazy, right?”
“It may seem crazy to you angel, but I promise I’m only doing what I think I need to in order to keep you safe. And I’m not fitting you with a tracker, though if you’d let me, I’d happily get a doctor over here to inject one into your skin?” He looks at me hopefully and I burst out laughing.
“Not a chance,” I say with finality and chuckle when I see his expression. He looks like I just kicked his puppy.
He didn’t stay much longer after that. Once he’d finished installing the cameras, he told me to text him if I needed anything and that he’d check back in with me in a couple of days.
Apparently, he was going to be working full time to try and figure out who had come after me, and he didn’t want to be distracted by being around me, but he wanted me to text him to check in.
I spent the rest of the day around my apartment wondering what the hell my life had come to and texting with Lia since Enzo had apparently contacted her to let her know I wouldn’t be joining her for girls’ night.
Obviously, she had questions.
I just had no idea how to answer them, what the hell was I supposed to say?
My stalker held me while I had a full mental breakdown because I’m being targeted by someone my brother owes money too.
Then I proceeded to let him into my apartment where we spent more time talking before I fell asleep and he carried me to bed.
Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d lose her goddamn mind.
Instead, I told her that I had a migraine and Enzo is a new friend who visits the store and that I’d asked him to reach out to her for me.
Pretty sure she’s aware I’m full of shit, but the questions have stopped for now.
I’ve tried calling my brother multiple times over the last few days, but I reach his voicemail every single time.
I’m pacing in my kitchen, trying to think of ways to get myself out of this mess that he made for me without having to use Enzo, when my phone dings from the counter.
Enzo
What are you doing?
Just wearing a hole in the flooring as I lose my mind.
About to make dinner. What are you doing?
I send the message without thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t encourage conversation with him? How does one normally act when they start to become friends with the guy who’s stalked them for the last few months?
Enzo
Sit and read for a while, angel. I’m sending you takeout, so you don’t have to cook.
I’ve just got to my brother Marco’s. I found my eldest brother, Luca, losing his shit outside of my apartment because his wife won’t speak to him so now we’re over here having a pity party and trying to stop him from crying. Text me if you need anything.
I’m assuming Luca is Izzy’s husband, but I don’t know enough about their relationship to comment. I swipe off the text thread and pad over to the couch to do exactly what he told me to do.
I do what I do every time reality gets too much for me and I need an escape.
I do what I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember when life just becomes too much to handle.
I read.
