“I talk to my sister every day,” I say. “If she doesn’t hear from me, she’s going to start some kind of search party.”
Enzo considers a few moments. “You can call whoever you need to keep them from worrying, but I’m going to listen in. Fair?”
I nod my head.
After dinner, Luke stays on the couch to finish the movie. Niko left to go “partake” in the party raging just outside Enzo’s private living area inside the club, and Chase pulls out a sketchbook to scribble at something off in the corner.
Enzo follows me into the kitchen, where I go to look for a drink of water. He wordlessly helps me by snagging a glass from the cabinet and filling it up for me.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, leaning back against the fridge while the sound of the TV and the muffled thump of music from the club creates oddly calming background noise. “You guys aren’t what I would’ve expected,” I say.
Enzo looks to Luke and Chase, nodding. "None of us are that different. It's just the way our lives point us early on." He folds his arms and leans his shoulder against the wall, eyes distant and thoughtful. "Luke came from a wealthy family, but when he was in high school his mom got sick. Desperation led him to one of my uncles, which got him tangled up with me. Chase had a little brother who was a fuckup. He was always trying to watch out for him, so when his brother joined up with us, Chase followed so he could keep him safe. Niko… Well," Enzo laughs. "Niko's just an asshole. I think he joined up because it's easy money if you don't have a conscience."
“What about you?” I ask.
He sighs. “I’m afraid I don’t have a good excuse. Crime was the family business. I’m sure I could’ve broken away from it hundreds of times along the way, but I was just a dumb kid who wanted to make his dad proud. After a while, I started to tell myself I was only still in it because I thought I could save us from it. Thought I’d eventually be able to turn the family legit. I guess I still do.”
“You say it like your dad doesn’t agree.”
“Him?” Enzo laughs, but there’s no real humor in the sound. “I think my dad is too far gone to ever give up what he’s used to. He idolized the guys in power when he was a kid, and he worked his ass off to get where he is now. To him, taking the family any farther in the direction I want probably feels like he’d be betraying all that work.”
“Where do I fit into all this? It doesn’t sound like he’s going to like the idea of you letting me go.” I’m almost afraid to ask the question, but it comes rolling out of me all the same.
“You?” he asks, eyes narrowing in a way that makes me want to bite my lip and swoon. He takes me in with eyes like a hunter’s, like all his possessive words and actions could be boiled down and distilled into a single, panty-melting look. “You don’t fit into this. That’s why you’re special. That’s why I’m going to keep you as close as I can, as long as I can.”
“I don’t think I understand,” I say, feeling a little breathless. I know I should just wall myself off to him and pray that he really does try to get me out of this, but I’d be lying if I said the fire he lit in me back at the restaurant wasn’t still burning.
“This ends with us going our separate ways,” he says firmly. “I won’t lie to you again or hold back the truth. There’s no other way. We have however long we have. However long it takes to find a way to get you out of this safely. After that? It’ll be too dangerous.”
“Right,” I say. More bitterness and regret fills me than relief, but I don’t want to let that show on my face.
“Which is why I don’t want to waste a second of my time with you.”
“Oh,” I say dumbly. “Right.” My brain searches for a more articulate response, but it’s like he’s melting down all the coherent thoughts in my head until they’re just a sloshing, desperate pile of ill-advised desire.
He’s closer now. I don’t remember him moving toward me, but I can suddenly feel the heat of his breath on my neck. His chest is rising and falling quickly, just like mine. Despite the riot of emotions inside me, I feel myself tilting my head back, lips parting for the kiss I know he wants to take.
"Hey," Chase calls from the living room. "What are you going to tell your father, anyway?"
He asks the question in an almost innocent voice, like he didn’t see what he was interrupting, but when I look toward where he’s sitting with his sketch pad, his posture seems a little too rigid for me to believe it was an accident.
Enzo breathes out his frustration, but pushes off the wall, giving me a single, smoldering glare that tells me we’re going to pick up where we left off as soon as he gets a chance.
“We’ll tell him things at the restaurant got complicated. I couldn’t get her to the car without people noticing, so I took her here instead and lured her to my private rooms.”
Chase starts to relax a little, nodding his head. “Yeah, I can see that making enough sense.”
“Why not just tell him you thought she was hot and you wanted to have her somewhere she’d be easier to fuck when you wanted?”
“Watch your mouth,” Enzo snaps.
Luke just grins. “You should consider yourself lucky,” he says to me. “I’d started to wonder if Enzo was even interested in women anymore. Can’t remember the last time I saw him messing around with a girl.”
“Luke.” There’s a warning in Enzo’s tone. “If you want me to rip your fucking arms off and stick them in your mouth, keep talking.”
Luke raises his eyebrows as if he’s picturing the gruesome image, then acts like he’s zipping his lips closed.
“So,” Chase asks. “Who gets the honor of telling him?”
“I will,” Enzo says.
8
Enzo
I sit across from Neela and watch with as she eats some grilled chicken and rice I made for her. It’s nothing special, but she's devouring it like it's the best thing she's ever tasted.
"What?" she asks, looking up at me over her plate.
"I wasn't lying when I said I appreciate a woman with an appetite. You can imagine how torturous it was to watch you stage a hunger strike."
She flashes me a reluctant grin. "A hunger strike? You make it sound so dramatic. I just didn’t have an appetite last night. I ate that entire bowl of pasta at the restaurant before we came back here, remember? How much do you think I need to eat?"
I nod, grinning a little. It’s a relief to feel like she’s finally ready to act normal around me, relaxed, even. "Felt dramatic from where I was sitting. I was starting to worry those beautiful curves of yours were going to melt away."
A blush creeps onto her cheeks, but she looks back down and takes another bite of her food. After a few moments, she shakes her head. "So you really expect to kidnap me and still get to fool around?”
I shrug. “You could say I left a few moves on the table back at the restaurant. Maybe I was hoping to show you what else is up my sleeve.”
She tries to cover her mouth with her hand, but I can see the hint of a smile in her eyes. When she composes herself, she lets her hand fall back to her lap, cheeks still flushed red. "I’m less worried about what’s up your sleeve than I am about what’s in your pants.” It seems impossible, but her cheeks become an even deeper red. “I’m still a little sore from you.”
My heartbeat quickens, and in an instant, I’m nearly unable to hold back my need to have her again. Watching her across the table looking so small and perfect is almost too much. The lust comes with a strong note of pain, because I know no matter what she lets me take from her while she’s here and she’s mine, it’s only temporary. We have an expiration date, and chances are, it’s only going to be a few days.
Nothing says I can’t enjoy those few days, though.
“I’d be happy to give you a massage,” I say, grinning. “Although I think you’d end up more sore down there by the time I was done with you.”
“You're unbelievable,” she says, laughing a little. “One minute, you're playing the knight in shinin
g armor to get me off my 'hunger strike' and then as soon as I agree to eat, you go back to being the beast who seduced me on our date?"
"Seduced?" I ask. "Now who's being dramatic?"
"Please. You came strutting up to me with all your—" she waves her hand around in an unsuccessful attempt to convey some idea. "And you started talking about the things you wanted to do to me like it was—" her hand goes frantic again. She sighs. "You tried your hardest to seduce me. You can at least admit that much."
"I wasn’t exactly being secretive. If I remember correctly, I told you what I was planning. I don’t think that counts as seduction," I say.
"You're such a liar. And you're a kidnapper. And an ass."
I grin. Even though there's a hint of real anger and truth in her words, she can't hide the trace of amusement just behind her eyes. She's enjoying this in her way, whether she wants to admit it to herself or not.
“I need to go speak with my father today. I’m going to make an exception and let my guys stay here to keep an eye on you, but if any of them try anything—anything at all, just yell. The guard outside will be in here in a second to help you. Okay?”
“You can’t just call him?” she asks.
“No. Half the family could be dead and I’d still have to drive to his goddamn tower to tell him about it in person. He’s stuck in the past—thinks he’s in some old mafia movie.”
She raises an eyebrow. "His tower? What is he, a supervillain?"
I grin at that. “He’d probably get a hard-on if he knew someone thought of him like that. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a powerful man, and he’s not stupid. He’s just built for a different time. The world moved on without him, I guess.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” she says, eyeing me.
“Me?” I ask. “I don’t think you understand what I do if that’s what you think.”
“So you don’t go around breaking people’s kneecaps because they owe you money or threatening people until they pay you for protection? I know you said it’s different, but I mean, look at you.”
“Movies and TV are about a generation or two behind on what organized crime looks like. I’m just a step away from getting clean,” I say. I hate how pathetic it sounds, even to me, like I’m some kind of junkie who thinks he can kick the habit. “We still throw around some bribery money, and occasionally lean on the family influence to help shave a few percent off a deal, but it’s not as bad as you’d think.”
“So you don’t hurt people?”
An image flashes in my mind: the blinding white flash of my gun and the sound, like a tree splitting in an instant. Three times. Crack, crack, crack. I see the way his shirt blew open from the force of the bullets and the small, innocent looking holes that ended his life as he slumped down and bled out, eyes never leaving mine.
“Not when it can be avoided,” I say. I try to harden my voice so she won’t hear the conflict there, the old wounds.
Her face sinks, and I realize she was hoping I’d tell her I didn’t, that I never have. She wanted to be wrong about me. Sorry, sweetheart. I wish you were wrong about me. “I need to go. The guys will be here in a few minutes. There’s more pasta in the fridge if you get hungry.
“I’m not sure I can handle any more pasta right now,” she says, laughing. Pasta at the restaurant, noodles last night, rice today… I’m starting to think you’re a carbivore.”
“Just Italian,” I say, standing and heading out to meet with my dad. And hers.
She watches me go without a word, eyes wide and thoughtful.
I’m going to find a way to make this right, Neela. I fucking swear it.
9
Neela
Luke, Chase, and Niko show up an hour or so after Enzo leaves. Niko flops down on the loveseat and pulls out his phone. His scarred face is neutral and unreadable, which seems to be the norm for him. Chase looks me up and down with his warm eyes, clearly trying to figure out if I’ve eaten or not. Luke just leers at me, eyes lingering too long on my breasts for my liking.
I discovered some clothes Enzo had left for me in my room after he went to speak with his father. I finally showered, washing away the last hints of my shameful encounter with Enzo in the restaurant. I’m wearing a simple pair of jeans and a black top that is a little lower cut and tighter than I’d have picked out for myself. With Luke’s prying eyes, I wish I had something more conservative. Like a black trash bag.
Luke taps his temple, near his star tattoos, and gives me an appreciative smile. With his shaved head and strong eyebrows, he makes a striking picture of masculinity and good looks, but I can’t stop seeing something wormy and distrustful in him that gives me the creeps.
“You doing okay?” Chase asks. He nearly puts his hand on my shoulder when he asks, but seems to think better of it, pulling it back jerkily.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’m going to put the Notebook on,” Luke says offhandedly, as if the idea of a heavily tattooed, buff mafia guy wanting to watch the Notebook isn’t strange in the slightest. “You in?”
“Um, sure?” I say.
Chase sits down on the couch and motions for me to sit beside him. I take the spot and Luke squeezes in on the other side of me. I am scared of these men and my situation, but Enzo’s promise to make sure it works out okay clings to me like armor. As odd as it is to put so much value in the promise of a man I only met yesterday—a man who kidnapped me, no less—it’s the truth. I do trust that he’ll try to get me out of this, one way or another.
So I let myself settle into a comfortable position, and even if it’s just for the length of a single movie, I try not to think about where I am or why. Chase is nice enough, after all, and even if Niko spends all his time sexting girls, he at least leaves me alone. Luke, though… I feel like he’s just waiting for a chance to get me by myself, a chance to try something vile. I scoot a little bit away from him and closer to Chase. An odd sense of guilt wells up in me, like if Enzo came in now and saw me sitting between the two men on his couch, he’d feel betrayed.
I find myself making an excuse about how the couch is hurting my back and sliding down to sit on the floor with my back against the couch.
Chase shifts like he’s about to say something, but Luke only turns sideways and kicks his legs across the couch where I was sitting as he flips the movie on.
“So…” I say, trying to cut through the awkward silence. “Romance movies are your thing?” I ask.
Luke makes a noncommittal sound from behind me. “These clowns want to call me a pussy for it, but the way I see it? You want to get pussy, you have to speak pussy.”
Niko looks up from his phone with an expression of utter disbelief. “That might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” he says dryly before looking back to his phone.
Luke blows out a dismissive breath. “You’ve got your techniques. I’ve got mine.”
I can’t help grinning a little. As much as these men seemed like hardened killers on my first meeting, I’m starting to see a little more of their personalities, and it goes a long way toward making me less scared of them.
“So, you and Enzo hook up already?” Luke asks once the movie has been playing for about half an hour.
“Come on, man,” says Chase. “If you think watching these movies is teaching you to ‘speak pussy,’ you just proved you’re not learning shit.”
I keep quiet, not wanting to admit what happened between Enzo and me, even if they can all probably guess it.
“You think women want what you do?” Luke asks. “All that soft buttery shit? If you didn’t look like you were in a boy band, you’d never get within ten feet of a pussy with your nice guy act.”
“Fuck you,” Chase says.
“The way both of you are talking,” Niko says without looking up. “You should both be in a boy band. Maybe you can sing some duets together. Grab each other's asses."
I try my hardest to stifle a snort of laughter, but both Chase and Luke hear it. I can sen
se their eyes on the back of my head.
I think I’m about to get an ear-full from them when the door bursts open to the room. I notice for the first time that the sounds of the club beyond the private room have woken back up, filling the space with a thumping, electronic beat. I can even hear glasses clinking and muted conversation coming from outside. I had almost forgotten I was stashed away in this private corner of the club and not some fancy apartment complex.
The men who enter are jaw-dropping. They both have beards and dirty blonde hair. One is a little taller and more roguish with a look on his face that says he doesn’t smile often. The other has a hint of laughter in his eyes, but at a glance I can tell both men are involved in the same lifestyle as Enzo. Mafia. I’d even go as far as to say they could be his brothers, from the vague resemblance I see in some of their features.
“Enzo’s calling everyone in,” says the taller of the two. His voice is heavy and deep.
“Off your asses,” says the other one, who I take to be a couple years younger. He’s shorter by maybe an inch, but both men are still well above average height, even if not quite as tall as Enzo.
Nico gets up, actually tucking his phone in his pocket. Luke pauses the movie and hands me the remote. “Sorry babe,” he says. “Those are Enzo’s brothers. If he had them come get us, it’s something serious. You can watch without me.”
“We’ll be back,” Chase promises.
The two brothers eye me with a look of interest for a few seconds before they usher everyone out of the door, leaving me alone again.
Without knowing what else to do, I end up turning the movie back on and sitting there, more than a little distracted.
The door opens a few minutes later, and this time Enzo comes in. He’s breathing heavily and sweat is covering his forehead. “You’ve got to go. Now. I thought we’d have longer. I wish we did,” he says, voice full of regret. “But it has to be now.”
Hate at First Sight Page 42
