Hate at First Sight

by Penelope Bloom

  “What?” I ask, standing up.

  “I don’t have time to explain anything.” He hands me my phone and meets my eyes. “It’ll be too dangerous for me to see you again. This is goodbye,” he says, pulling me in and kissing me full on the mouth.

  The kiss catches me so off guard that I don’t do anything for a moment. I only stand there, his mouth soft and warm against mine, my nose full of the masculine scent of him and the heat of his body so hard but inviting. I only just begin to kiss him back against all my instincts before he pulls away with a look on his face that has warmth flooding between my legs. God. It’s not fair what this man can do to me.

  “I don’t understand,” I breathe. A whirlwind of emotion tears at me. The biggest part of my brain is ready to take any opportunity I can, to run and never look back. But at the same time, the idea of walking away from him feels wrong. It feels like something incomplete still hangs between us both, like he was a puzzle I had yet to solve, and leaving now would mean he’ll always be on my mind, always gnawing at me like the opportunity I let get away.

  “You don’t need to understand,” he says. “It’s easier this way. You’re going to need to leave the city. Start over somewhere. If my father finds out you’re alive, he’ll try to make an example out of both of us.” He cups my cheeks in his hands, forcing my eyes on his. “Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll listen.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. “Okay…” It’s all happening so fast. Too fast. I feel like I’m sliding down a steep, slippery slope without anything to grab a hold of to slow myself down.

  He kisses me again and guides me by the back to the door. “You have to leave on your own. And take this,” he says, handing me a credit card. “I’ll make sure it always has all the money you need on it. Okay? Use it for whatever you want. I know it doesn’t excuse kidnapping you,” he adds with a grin, “but I’ll feel better knowing you’re taken care of. Now go,” he says, giving me another push.

  I turn to say something. To thank him. To curse him. To kiss him. I don’t even know, but I don’t get a chance because he slams the door behind me. I’m left to walk out of the club on my own and I’m strangely free after less than a day from when he kidnapped me. One day and he turned my world upside down. I’ll have to talk to everyone at the clinic and explain—except I can’t explain anything. I’ll have to lie, to make excuses, possibly lose my chance to keep working as a veterinarian.

  Despite it all, I can’t quite believe I just saw Enzo Luciani for the last time.

  10

  Enzo

  Four Months Later

  I’m in my private room at the club while Luke, Chase, and Niko lounge on the couches by the TV like usual. Niko has a girl he plucked from the club in his lap and the two of them are making out, but it’s hardly anything new, so I barely notice.

  The truth is, I’ve been spending more time here because I can still picture Neela padding around barefoot when I’m in this place, the way she looked so vulnerable while she scarfed down the noodles after her little hunger strike, and the way she tasted when I stole one last kiss before I forced her out of my life. Letting her go tore a fucking chunk out of my insides, and instead of healing up, it just feels like the wound is festering. She’s all I think about anymore.

  I’d already been on something of an extended hiatus before I kidnapped her, and now the thought of using another woman to take my mind of Neela makes me sick to my stomach. I can still remember the way she tasted, and I know another woman would just wash away that memory.

  “You good?” Chase asks.

  I didn’t see him approach me, but he’s leaning on the counter in the kitchen beside me.

  “I’m good,” I say stiffly.

  He leans in a little closer and lowers his voice. “Look, man. I know you have to stay tough and all that shit. Your reputation, respect, whatever. But you don’t have to pull that around me. I’ve got your back. What’s eating at you?”

  I sigh and shake my head. “I’m fine, Chase.”

  “It’s the girl. Isn’t it? It’s not like you to get hung up on a girl. Hell, I’ve never even seen you blink after cutting one loose. But I guess Neela was something special, wasn’t she?”

  “What would you know?” I ask, feeling a sudden protective anger rise up. Even after four months, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of her as mine. I still check her account almost every day to make sure she doesn’t need money, but frustratingly, she hasn’t spent a dime from the card I gave her. I should’ve figured she’d be too stubborn and strong-willed to take the handout.

  "Easy," Chase says, holding up his hands. "I just mean she wasn't one of the airheads that usually end up following us around, not like one of Niko's bimbos. You know?"

  “Yeah,” I say, relaxing a little. “She was special.”

  “You’re sure the boss isn’t going to figure out we let her go?”

  I lean forward, jabbing a finger into his chest and fixing him with my eyes. “I said we never talk about it. Not even among ourselves.”

  Chase nods, gulping down a heavy swallow. “Sorry. I just…”

  “He won’t find out as long as she keeps laying low for now,” I say with a sigh. “Maybe a few years and it’ll blow over. Once he forgets to care. Maybe then she can stop feeling like she has to hide.”

  I don’t tell Chase what really happened. I don’t talk about how I went to talk to her father before my own the day after I kidnapped her, how I told him if he wanted his daughter to stay free, he’d find a way to push the case back as long as he could. If my father got a whisper that Neela’s father was still moving forward with the case, he’d probably try to kidnap Neela’s sister, and I couldn’t be sure I’d be able to get her to safety, too.

  So I lied my ass off. To her father. To mine. In the end, I created a fragile web of assumptions and lies that will fall apart if a single thing goes wrong. It was the best I could do, and it has been enough, so far.

  I pull up her account on my phone absent-mindedly, as I’ve made a habit of doing several times a day, even though it has never changed. My heart nearly stops when I see the balance. She spent about four hundred on the card. She used it. Is she in trouble? Fuck.

  When I click on the account to see what she bought, everything I thought I knew or cared about comes crashing down around me.

  11

  Neela

  “Oh wait, wait!” I say, tapping my palm on the countertop by the register. “Can you undo that charge? Shit,” I say under my breath. “That was the wrong card.” I look down at the card Enzo gave me. My stomach feels sick. I promised myself I’d never use it. I knew he could probably see the account and he’d know where I was if I bought anything. Worse, he’d know I needed his help. I know it was stubborn of me, but I wanted to prove that I didn’t need him to fix my life after he left it in shambles.

  Only…

  I look at the box sitting on the counter. A baby crib. I just charged a goddamn baby crib to his card. Of all the possible times to have baby brain kick in. He’s going to think I was trying to tell him he got me pregnant.

  I put my hand on my stomach, closing my eyes as my hands start to shake. I only kept the card in my wallet in case of an absolute emergency, but I knew that was a bad idea.

  “I can cancel the charge,” says the girl. “It might take a few days to come off your account and get refunded though. Is that okay?”

  “It’ll have to be,” I say with a forced smile. “Use this one.”

  She smiles and takes the card, swiping again. “I’ll have someone help you to your car with that. Congratulations, by the way,” she says with a meaningful glance at my slightly swollen belly.

  “Thank you.”

  I leave the crib in the car until I can get Jess or my dad over to help. I had to move nearly two hours away to feel safe from Enzo’s father, and maybe even that wasn’t enough. But the veterinarian I interned with during college knew the head vet tech at a hospital out here and was able to pu
t in a good word for me, so I took what I could get.

  I felt like I was looking over my shoulder for the first few weeks. Now though? Enzo and his whirlwind of trouble feel distant, like a wild, fevered dream that couldn’t possibly be real.

  By that evening, I stopped feeling so stressed about the mishap with the credit card, too. Chances are, Enzo hasn’t even thought about me since the night he let me go. It’s a cynical thought, and it stings, but I dwell on it like I might keep testing a sore shoulder, moving my arm just to make sure it still hurts, because it’s the only way to know if it’s healing. Like a stubborn injury, the empty place Enzo left won’t heal. Carrying his baby doesn’t help, and I’ve agonized over whether keeping it a secret or telling him is the right thing to do.

  On the one hand, Enzo is as much a parent to this baby as I am. Granted, I think I get the majority vote for the whole pregnancy bit, but I believe a father has the right to know. Only… Telling Enzo would put the baby in danger. It'd put me in danger. And I can’t help thinking back to what he said about his childhood, how he ended up in the mafia because he wanted to be like his father and make him proud. What if my baby followed the same path?

  So I do what I normally do when the debate comes up in my mind. I decide I’ll make a final decision when the baby is born. Until then, I’ll wait.

  Jess came over when I called and told her about the credit card. She’s sitting in my small kitchen nook with a glass of wine in her hand and a sour look on her face. Her brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and she wears a big sweater and sweatpants. She always calls it her “girls’ night in” outfit. I’m sure it’s not unique to us, but it’s still our tradition to dress in the comfiest clothes we can find—fashion be damned—and watch a few romance movies. I’m blaming my pregnancy for the amount of chocolate I decided to stock up for tonight.

  After I explained how I used Enzo’s credit card, the mood has been depressing.

  “There’s a good chance he knows,” Jess says. She’s never one for hopeless optimism. Knowing I can count on her to give me the truth, no matter how unpleasant, is nice sometimes. Right now is not one of those times.

  “He’d have to be constantly checking the account. What are the chances, realistically?” I ask, popping a Dove chocolate in my mouth. “I’m serious, if you had seen this guy, you would understand why I’m so sure he moved on. Enzo was…” Sweet, once you dug beneath the gruff and violent exterior. He was honest, and he followed through on his promise to free me. And he was also an absolute sexual beast, which he made painfully evident when he knocked me up after I’d known him less than an hour. I want to sigh at that last thought. I’d always thought of myself as a reasonable and logical woman. Strong-willed and intelligent. Not the kind of woman who gets seduced and has wild, crazy, amazing, unprotected sex with a stranger. Then again, I never could’ve understood what it would be like to be in that moment with him so close to me, either.

  “Enzo was... what?” prods Jess. “Probably a murderer? Part of the mafia?”

  “Shhh,” I say, bulging my eyes at her. “You said you wouldn’t talk about that.”

  She gives me a patient look. “What, are you worried they ‘wired’ your house?” she asks, adding air quotes with her fingers to emphasize how ridiculous the idea is to her. But she didn’t get a glimpse into their world. All she got was a day of fear that her sister might’ve stayed out too late with a guy and my confused explanation of what happened. My dad said no one from the Luciani’s even tried to make a demand out of him. He’s seemed incredibly stressed ever since it all happened, but I think it was just the scare of knowing the work he loves put us in danger, even if what happened was unlikely.

  Someone bangs loudly against the front door, making us both jump. Jess swears, reaching for a napkin to clean up her spilled wine.

  I go to the door, wishing it had a peephole. I pull it open just a crack.

  I nearly fall back when I see who is standing at my door.

  Enzo Luciani. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a white v-neck that shows off his tattoos and a hint of his muscular chest. He plants his hand on the door, forcing it open so he can stare at me, chest heaving like he just ran a mile. His eyes scan me up and down, studying my belly.

  I put a protective hand over my stomach, feeling it turn over with dread when I realize he must’ve seen the charge and put two and two together.

  “Enzo…” is all I can say, voice a near-whisper.

  “That’s him?” Jess practically shrieks from behind me. “Wow. Anyone ever tell you that you look like Adam Levine, you know, if he punched people in the face for a living?” she asks. When Enzo only spares a glare for her, she clears her throat, grabs her wine, and mutters something about just excusing herself for a long bathroom break.

  I barely notice.

  Enzo hasn’t said a word, but he doesn’t need to. I can see it all on his face, written so plainly it might as well be a book for me to read.

  “It’s yours,” I say.

  “I know,” he says.

  I didn’t even realize he stepped inside my house, but he’s standing just inches from me, hand against the wall above my head and body so close my breasts are pillowed between us. I close my eyes, drinking in his closeness. I wanted to believe I could do this all without him—or any man, for that matter. I managed vet school while working full-time as a waiter. I’ve done surgeries by myself when my tech was sick. I’ve saved pets who should’ve been beyond saving. So raising a kid by myself should be no problem. Right?

  Maybe I could’ve spun that lie and let it stick if he hadn’t come back. If he wasn’t here.

  He brings his face close to mine, lips nearly brushing mine.

  In that moment, I can almost forgive everything. After all, what is there to really forgive? Forgive him for being born into a mafia family? For doing what it took to protect them? For kidnapping me only to turn around and save me from anyone else his father might’ve sent? No… He doesn’t owe me an apology for any of that. He owes me an apology for putting this baby in me, for knowing his world and mine never belonged tangled together and for still doing it anyway, for fucking me when he knew he was going to kidnap me.

  He pulls back, leaving me with parted lips and short of breath. He paces in front of me, restless energy spilling over. I can see the turmoil in his features. He held himself back from kissing me and I can only guess at why.

  “I need you to come back to the city with me,” he says. “It’s not safe for you here.”

  “What?” I ask. “It was safe for me up until now, wasn’t it?”

  “It was…” he says, hesitating.

  “What?” I ask. The look on his face makes my skin feel cold. “Did your father find out I’m alive?”

  “No, but when I told the guys where I was going, Nico apparently went behind my back and told my father where you are. Chase called me on my way over here and told me my father’s men were already getting orders to come bring you back in. For good, this time.

  I take a step back from him, feeling the weight of his world crushing its way back into mine with pure, brute force. All the work I’ve done in slowly convincing myself I could live a normal life after my clash with the Lucianis comes crumbling down in an instant.

  “Nico betrayed you?”

  Enzo nods, and from the way his lips twitch, he’s still dealing with the surprise of it himself. “Nico always had his eyes on working his way up the food chain. He probably told my father you were alive as soon as I let you go, and knowing my father, he probably told him to wait. Figured I’d eventually slip up and lead them right to you. Fuck,” he says, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall across from me.

  Without him standing so close, I feel like I can breathe again. Like I can think. But none of the thoughts popping into my head are good ones, and I already long to have his wonderfully distracting presence back with me.

  “My baby…” The words slip from me like a loosely held w
eight, pressing beyond all my other thoughts and worries.

  Enzo, who had been closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts, walks straight toward me now, hands clasping my cheeks as he stares into my eyes. “Our baby,” he says. “You’re not alone in this, sweetheart. You’re not going to have to do this on your own. You understand me? I’m here now.”

  Each word punches into me, forcing a spot inside my heart where the sound of his voice and the meaning behind it settles in to stay, feeling like a warm fire that I’ll always be able to come back to, no matter how cold I may be. Even if he can’t possibly mean it all. How could he? The movies may not get everything right, but I know you can’t just walk away from the mafia.

  “I want to accept that,” I say softly. “But—”

  “May not want to go in there for a minute,” Jess says in an oddly high pitched voice. She winces, knitting her eyebrows together as she seems to remember that it’s not just me and her in the house right now. “You know, on second thought,” she says, “I’m going to just go back in there to die. Flush me when I’m done. Thanks.”

  She fast-walks like she's trying to hold a ping-pong ball between her buttcheeks back into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

  Enzo looks somewhere between amused and annoyed at the interruption. “Neela,” he says, after looking away from where Jess was. “We can talk about this later. You need to come with me. Now.”

  There’s an edge of command in his voice that makes me feel like a captive all over again, but no matter his flaws, Enzo is the father of my child. I need to believe that counts for something. And… Last time he asked for my trust, he followed through.

  What if he’s only lying about the danger so I’ll come with him? Maybe he saw I was pregnant and wanted to cage me again until he could claim the baby for his own and toss me aside. It’s a paranoid thought, and in truth, Enzo hasn’t given me enough reason to doubt him that much.