Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Chloe
Enzo vanished.
Day one, I told myself it was fine. Maybe he had business to handle. He was heir to New York's underground empire—a thousand things demanded his attention every single day. He couldn't spend every night in some strip club watching one woman dance.
But every few minutes, my eyes drifted to the club entrance. Every time that heavy black door swung open, my heart jumped—and in walked a beer-bellied balding middle-aged guy, a pack of giggling Wall Street drones, or a couple of rich assholes with girls on their arms.
Never Enzo.
Day two. Day three. Still no Enzo.
By day four, I had to face the truth I'd been dodging all along. He probably wasn't coming back.
Why the hell did I think I was special?
In this club, those suits walked in with fresh eyes and conquest on their minds, throwing cash at the girls onstage, sweet-talking them.
Once they got what they wanted, their interest vanished like a retreating tide.
No goodbyes, no explanations—just gone one day.
You waited a week, two weeks, finally realizing you were just a distraction.
Clearly, that's all I was to Enzo.
He got what he wanted. Then he left.
Same as every other man.
I started feeling grateful I hadn't told him about the baby yet.
My hand rested on my stomach. There was already a faint curve, though you couldn't really see it yet.
Maybe this was better. Him pulling away now beat getting dumped after I'd invested more. This baby didn't need a father who treated people like entertainment. It just needed me. I'd figure out how to save enough money, find somewhere safe to have it, and raise it alone.
I closed my eyes and repeated those words in my head.
Good. Hold onto that. Chloe Bennett was never the type to fall apart over a man. He left. Life goes on.
The good news—Enzo's orders still carried some weight. Nobody forced me to do those explicit dances. I stayed behind the bar.
The bad news—bartending came with its own shit show.
Late-night drunks always had extra enthusiasm for pretty female bartenders. Some guy ordering drinks would lay his hand over mine, fingers dragging slow before pulling back.
Another scanned me head to toe, groping my waist when I bent for a bottle. One asshole straight-up dropped a stack of bills on the bar asking what time I got off.
When Enzo was around, nobody dared try this stuff. His presence alone was a force field. Everyone knew what touching his woman meant.
But now he was gone. The force field disappeared. Those grimy hands crept back out. Drew wasn't as rotten as Silvio, but he didn't give a damn either. As long as nobody got violent, he wouldn't intervene.
I could handle it. Compared to the scumbags I'd dealt with before, these drunk pervs were nothing. I learned to yank my hand back fast, learned to keep my spine straight when reaching for bottles so nobody got an angle.
I'd be fine. I'd survived everything else. Not seeing Enzo wasn't that big a problem.
Soon enough, another Enzo-less day ended. I clocked out and headed for the club's back exit.
Since Drew took over, management finally loosened up. Using the insane sales numbers from Enzo's time, I'd gotten approved for early shifts and permission to rent outside.
So I'd rented a tiny basement apartment near the club. Almost identical to my first place when I came to New York.
Late autumn nights in New York already ran cold. Wind funneled down the alley, making me shiver. I zipped my jacket all the way up and kept my head down, walking toward my rental.
"Chloe."
Liam stepped out from beside the wall by the back door. He wore a khaki jacket, hands shoved in his pockets, nose red from cold. No idea how long he'd been waiting.
"Liam? What are you doing here? Didn't you get off half an hour before me?" I smiled at him. We rarely got chances to talk alone lately—because of Enzo, I'd been avoiding one-on-one time with Liam.
"I was waiting for you." He said it staring at the ground, voice tight, like he'd rehearsed those words a hundred times. "That asshole in the leather jacket yesterday—the one who kept hassling you at the bar—I heard he's been hanging around this alley every night. I didn't want you walking alone."
I looked at Liam. Autumn wind whipped his brown hair into chaos. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, clumsy in a heartbreaking way. His lips were going purple from the cold, but he stood there stamping his feet for circulation, showing zero intention of leaving.
This man had stood in sub-fifty-degree wind for at least half an hour waiting for me.
"You don't have to do this, Liam. I'm fine."
"I know you're fine." He rubbed his hands together, breath fogging white. "But I wanted to walk you home. And I need to tell you something."
My heart sank.
Liam's nervous expression, his dodging eyes, plus the fact he'd waited in freezing wind for God knows how long—even I could read those signals.
Liam had feelings for me.
Not exactly breaking news. When Silvio went after me, plenty felt sorry—but only Liam stepped up. That alone was strange. He wasn't a bad guy, but people who lasted here didn't stick their necks out.
I suspected these feelings might go back to high school. He just never said anything then.
Well, I'd have to face this eventually.
"Okay. Let's walk." I nodded.
We walked side by side through the late-night streets. Streetlights stretched our shadows long, overlapping.
Liam handed me hot cocoa from a corner vending machine. I held it, warmth seeping through my gloves into my palms. Liam bought nothing for himself, shoving his hands back in his pockets.
After about five minutes, Liam spoke.
"Chloe, you've been upset lately. Is it because of Enzo?"
His voice wavered, like the words took serious resolve.
I wanted to say no, but the lie stuck in my throat. Liam had been good to me, helped me too much. He didn't deserve bullshit.
"Yes," I admitted it.
Liam went quiet. We kept walking past the street corner. Just when I thought he'd drop it, I heard him mutter some curses under his breath. That surprised me—he usually seemed so mild-mannered.
Silence fell between us again as we reached my shabby apartment building.
"Here we are." I turned to face Liam. "Thanks for walking me back, Liam. Get home before you freeze."
He nodded, hands still in his pockets, taking half a step back. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, then closed. He looked down at his shoes, glanced up at me, then back down.
He clearly had more to say. But I wasn't going to push. If he didn't want to talk, he had his reasons. I turned around, reaching for my keys.
"Chloe."
I looked back.
"Enzo's getting married."
After dropping that bomb, his eyes locked on my face, like he was checking whether it hurt me.
"His fiancée is Valentina Lombardi. They're already planning the wedding."
Autumn wind rushed down the alley, whipping my hair across my face. I stood in the apartment doorway, keys gripped in my hand, metal coldness seeping from my palm straight into my bones.
My brain went completely blank. Like someone hit pause—every thought cleared out in that instant. Then play resumed and they flooded back, jumbled together. It took serious effort to sort out what the hell I was thinking.
I thought he'd just gotten bored with me. I thought he slept with me and left because I meant nothing to him. I never imagined—from the very start, I was never even on his radar.
And like a complete idiot, I'd secretly hoped something real might grow from those brief moments.
"Oh." I paused for two seconds. Then heard myself say, "Well, that's big news."
"Chloe? You okay?" Liam's voice went tight with concern.
"I'm really fine, Liam." I smiled at him, forcing my mouth into what I hoped passed for a decent curve. "He and I weren't what everyone thought."
As I spoke, something warm slid from my eye.
I didn't allow this, but my tears completely disobeyed. They spilled out without warning, one after another, streaming down my face.
"Fuck." I cursed under my breath, swiping fast with my sleeve. But after wiping the left side, the right started up. After the right, the left again. My frantic fumbling made everything more pathetic—tears mixed with wind-reddened snot smeared across my face.
"I'm fine, I just... fuck."
Still wrestling with my tears, Liam stepped forward, arms opening wide, pulling me into his embrace.
He held tight, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other around my waist. That warmth made my tears pour harder.
"I know. I know everything, Chloe." His voice came from above my head.
A long time passed—maybe a minute, maybe five—before my tears finally slowed. My breathing still hitched, but at least I wasn't losing control like before. I sniffed hard, about to pull away, when Liam spoke.
"What about me? Chloe, I care about you way more than he does."
I pressed against Liam's chest, feeling his embrace tighten.
"Since high school. Not being brave enough to tell you has always been my biggest regret."
He laughed bitterly. I felt the vibration in his chest.
"Then I saw you again at the club. I thought God was giving me a second chance. I don't care about your past. I don't care about any of that shit. Just give me a chance, okay?"
Liam's hand left my back. He stepped back half a pace, looking down at me. Streetlight caught in his brown eyes, which were wet.
I looked at Liam Brooks.
He stood before me, nose frozen red, lips purple from cold, tears pooling in his eyes but refusing to fall. He'd laid all his heart bare in front of me.
Compared to Enzo, he was a good man.
A real, complete, unreserved good man.
If I could fall for him, half my life's disasters would probably disappear.
But I couldn't. Because in this violent grief and pain, I finally had to admit what I'd been dodging all along—I loved Enzo.
Completely. Thoroughly. Hopelessly.
Even though he didn't want me. Even though he was about to marry someone else, my heart had fallen for him anyway, beyond all control.