Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Chloe
I woke to sunlight burning through my eyelids. Wrong. All wrong. My crappy rental wedged between high-rises never saw morning sun.
And this wasn't my bed. Too soft. Way too soft.
My eyes snapped open.
A massive bedroom. The kind of place where the price tag doesn't get mentioned.
Cream walls, dark hardwood floors, a designer armchair in the corner that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
High ceilings, understated chandelier. The whole room could've swallowed my entire apartment—living room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, all of it.
I sat up, memories trickling back.
Enzo barging into my place. The fight. The sex. Him saying I was his now, that I couldn't live in that shithole anymore.
I remembered being scooped up and stuffed into a black sedan. His chest against my face, steady heartbeat. The drive lasted forever or five minutes, I couldn't tell—I'd drifted in and out in his arms.
Something about this being my home now. Maybe he'd said it. Maybe I'd dreamed it.
Turned out it was real.
I climbed out of bed, found my way down a long hallway to the first floor.
Open concept. Living room and kitchen flowing together. Dark rug, leather sectional around a fireplace.
I was still taking it all in when a voice came from behind me.
"You're up."
Enzo. From the kitchen. I turned. He stood by the coffee maker in a black pullover and gray joggers, barefoot. First time I'd seen him out of a suit. Years younger like this. Less intimidating. Something else I couldn't name.
He walked over with two mugs and handed me one. "You can go back to bed. No rush."
"What about the club? I have work."
"Not anymore." He sipped his coffee. "Your contract's done. Drew won't charge you the penalty. You're finished with that place."
My mouth opened, but he didn't give me space to speak.
"The deed transfers this week. This place is yours."
Relief washed through me at never having to go back to that goddamn basement. But unease crept in right behind it.
Enzo was steamrolling my entire life without asking. No room for me to choose anything.
"You could've at least asked."
He set his mug down, stepped close.
Too tall. I had to crane my neck to see his face.
"Chloe." His voice dropped. "This is nothing to me. You'll have more. We can fight about it if you want—you're hot when you're pissed."
Heat flooded my face. I looked away. "I didn't do anything to earn this."
"You made me want you. That's enough."
His fingers caught my chin, turned my face back. He leaned down, eyes half-closed, stupidly attractive. But I stepped back, dodged the kiss.
"Controlling."
"Thanks." A smile. Not annoyed at all.
"For a big-ticket client, your service attitude sucks."
Enzo rarely smiled. When he did, it never meant relaxation—usually meant things were about to get ugly.
But this smile was different. Easy. Warm. Made my heart lurch.
Maybe I was oversensitive. Maybe he was just protective. Maybe that wasn't the worst thing.
My pulse kicked hard. Now. Right now. Sunlight, good mood, last night still hanging between us. I should tell him now—I'm pregnant, it's yours.
"Enzo, I need to tell you something—"
His phone rang.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His expression iced over in a heartbeat. The man who'd been flirting against the counter vanished, replaced by the cold bastard from my first day at the company.
He answered in rapid-fire words I didn't understand, low and clipped.
Thirty seconds. He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Paused by me long enough to press a shallow kiss to my forehead.
"I'll be back soon. If you need anything, ask the housekeeper."
The front door closed behind him.
I stood in the living room listening to the car start, pull away, fade completely. The pregnancy news stuck in my throat again. Next time. We had plenty of time.
With things settled with Enzo and the club behind me, I felt lighter. I started exploring. First floor, second floor, yard. Bigger than I'd thought. Five guest rooms besides the master, a study, and one empty room I couldn't figure out. Everything pristine, hotel-crisp.
Back downstairs, I found a woman in an apron in the kitchen. Mid-thirties, brown hair pinned back, pleasant features, smile lines at her eyes.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett." She gave a slight bow. "I'm Anna Bianchi. I'll be taking care of you. Would you like breakfast?"
"Just Chloe is fine." I smiled awkwardly. "Whatever's easy for breakfast. Thank you, Anna."
Anna got to work, efficient with eggs, toast, and fresh juice. I watched from the table, this weird warm feeling spreading through me. Too good to be real. From a basement rental to a fireplace mansion in one night.
The warmth didn't last. Pregnancy hormones, probably. I'd been so unstable lately, especially with contrasts this sharp. Normal for pregnant women, right?
When Anna brought breakfast, I tried making conversation. Push down the strange tightness in my chest.
Anna was quiet but capable, polite without being stiff. She'd worked here for almost a year, arranged by Enzo's people. Had a sister studying in Italy. Liked baking on weekends.
One breakfast and I felt closer to her. The mansion was too big, too unfamiliar, but the morning light was nice. My nerves actually relaxed.
"Anna, are there good walking spots nearby?" I swallowed the last bite of toast and dabbed my mouth. "I'd like to get out, walk around the neighborhood. Fresh air."
Anna's hand froze mid-wipe on the table. Her warm smile went stiff. "Miss Bennett, there's a lovely path in the garden. You can walk in the yard."
I frowned, caught the limitation in her phrasing.
"I mean outside. Past the front gate."
Anna slowly set down her cloth. Hands folded, she gave me a practiced, apologetic smile. The casual warmth evaporated, replaced by pure professionalism.
"Miss Bennett, Mr. Falcone gave strict instructions. You can't leave the house right now."
Every relaxed nerve snapped tight.
"What does that mean?"
"It's not safe outside. Mr. Falcone said until he's certain it's completely secure, you should stay inside." Anna's gaze slid past my shoulder toward the closed front door. "There are two gentlemen handling security at the entrance. If you need anything, tell me. I'll arrange it."
I looked through the window by the door. Two men in black suits on the porch, built like tanks, earpieces in.
Confusion swamped me. I knew Enzo's mafia ties meant heightened security, but I just wanted a walk. What could happen?
"Anna, I just want a short walk." My voice stayed level, but I felt my patience draining. "Around the block. Ten minutes. Can I do that?"
"I'm very sorry, Miss Bennett." Anna shook her head, tone genuinely apologetic—or fake, I couldn't tell. "These are Mr. Falcone's orders. If you need air, the yard is spacious. There's a lawn behind the garden."
Enzo's orders. My jaw dropped. Was he imprisoning me? Why would he do this?
I stood at the door, staring at the motionless men in black. Rigid posture, eyes forward, like statues. I tried smiling at them. One glanced at me, then away. No expression.
Anxiety twisted my stomach. Even an idiot would realize—this wasn't right. This went way past reasonable security.
Five minutes ago, this was the most perfect place in the world. Sunlight, garden, breakfast made for me, a man who said he loved me giving me all of it.
Now everything had changed.
A house you can't freely leave, no matter how beautiful, is a prison.
I started thinking why Enzo wouldn't let me out. Then I remembered something I'd been deliberately ignoring since yesterday.
Enzo had a fiancée. He said he'd break it off, but my existence was still awkward—anyone cheating right before their wedding would be awkward. So I figured I was still a secret that needed hiding. Of course he didn't want me parading around outside.
That thought circled my brain all afternoon.
By evening, the light faded. Motion-sensor lights in the yard clicked on, casting warm circles on the glass door. Anna made an elaborate dinner—steak, pasta, salad, dessert. But I had no appetite. Picked at the salad, put my fork down.
The front door unlocked.
Enzo walked in. Different clothes, dark coat collar up, face showing the wear of a long day. He saw me at the table, mouth quirking slightly.
"You eat?"
"Yeah."
He shed his coat, hung it in the entryway, and sat across from me. Anna silently brought him wine and a plate. He picked up his knife and fork, ate quickly and efficiently. Hungry.
I watched him take a few bites, waited until he swallowed.
"Enzo, why can't I leave?"
His knife paused mid-cut. He looked up. "Something wrong here? Is Anna not—"
"She's great, but I've been told I can't go anywhere but here." I kept my voice flat, didn't want him to hear my unease. "Anna said you ordered it. I want to know why."
Enzo set down his utensils and lifted his wine glass.
"It's not safe. Julian's people have been active. Until you have proper protection, staying here is the best option."
We stared at each other. I was at a disadvantage. He could probably read every bit of my tension and concern, but his dark eyes under the dining room light gave nothing away.
"What about the engagement?" I paused. "Will you break it off? Will you... Marry me?"
I gathered all my courage and asked the final question.