1. Seven #2
Seven stumbled forward without thought. Once he left the elevator, Enzo crossed the room, not stopping until he was so close Seven had to crane his neck back to look up at him. He managed eye contact for approximately half a second before dropping his gaze to his shoes.
Enzo laughed low, then chucked him beneath his chin, tilting his head up once again. Heat simmered low in his belly as Enzo took him in, making no attempt to hide his interest.
Seven hoped Enzo didn’t try to talk to him.
There was no way he’d hear past his own blood rushing in his ears.
No man should be this beautiful. His eyes were the same chestnut brown as his hair, and his lashes were long enough to cast shadows on his sharp cheeks.
He had full lips, a trimmed beard, and crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
Seven wanted to look away, but Enzo pinned him in place with his piercing stare.
So, he stood there, head empty, while Enzo studied him. Seven’s breath stuttered, pulse tripping as Enzo dipped his head. What the fuck? Was he going to…kiss him? Now?
His breath hitched as cool lips pressed against his forehead, lingering long enough to have him reeling. Awareness zipped through his whole body as Enzo casually slipped Seven’s bag off his arm and placed it on a barstool, mouthing, Five minutes.
Seven nodded woodenly, his skin still tingling where Enzo’s lips had touched him.
The other man made a gesture like he could look around if he liked, then turned away from him to walk to a glass wall covered with a sleek black metal grid.
The messy desk behind it told Seven it was a makeshift office of some sort.
Seven’s fingertips skimmed his forehead. Had that really just happened? Fucking was one thing, but what kind of maniac kissed a stranger’s forehead like he was something important? This was just a one-night stand.
Seven stayed rooted to the spot, his head on a swivel.
On his left, there was a glossy wooden staircase with a glass railing that presumably led to the bedrooms. In the center, industrial light fixtures dangled from the sky-high cement ceilings over the large orange sofa and a coffee table so ugly it had to have cost a small fortune.
The whole penthouse seemed to be decorated with fuck-you money, like Enzo was trying to prove something to someone.
But who?
The kitchen stood off to Seven’s right. It was bigger than his entire apartment.
The countertops were made of slick white marble with gold and black veins running through them.
The island alone was four-feet across and long enough to hold six barstools comfortably.
There were two ovens, stacked on top of each other, and two refrigerators built right into the wall, sitting side-by-side.
One had a glass door, revealing it held only drinks—everything from soda to the fancy imported beer Jericho now drank—right there out in the open for all the world to see. The other refrigerator was double the size but hid its secrets behind a large stainless steel door.
From a distance, he heard Enzo snort out a laugh, his voice echoing all the way back to Seven in the kitchen.
“Right. Well, tell him if he wants to stay out of an orange jumpsuit, he’ll keep his mouth shut and let me handle it.
Everything else can wait until tomorrow.
Yeah, I might be late to the office…yeah, yeah. See ya.”
Enzo came back around the corner, smiling when he realized Seven hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong, brat baby?”
“How rich are you?” Seven heard himself say before clamping his lips shut.
Enzo laughed. “Rich enough to buy the entire top two floors of this building and do all this,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you want a drink? You look like you’re two seconds away from trying to fling yourself over the balcony to escape. You know I’m not holding you hostage, right?”
Seven fixed him with a flat stare. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to live in an apartment the size of a subway station,” he snarked.
“There’s my bratty boy,” Enzo taunted with a grin. “Have you eaten?”
Seven startled at the question. Was this what one-night stands were like for older people? He dropped his gaze to his ratty Chuck Taylor’s. “I had something a while ago.”
Enzo once more forced his gaze upwards with a finger beneath his chin. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said softly. “When was a while ago?”
Seven shrugged. “Like…three-thirty?”
“It’s ten o’clock at night. You didn’t eat dinner?” He tsked, then shook his head, going to his giant refrigerator—the one with all its secrets—and opened the door, looking around for a minute before he returned with a protein shake.
“Why isn’t that in the drink fridge?” Seven mumbled. “Isn’t it technically a drink?”
“It’s a meal replacement shake.”
“So, you separate your food by purpose, not consistency?” Seven asked, staring at the bottle like it had teeth.
Enzo snorted, handing it over. “Drink this while I cook you something.”
Cook him something? Seven’s hand flew out, grabbing Enzo’s bicep as he made to walk back into the kitchen, retracting it with a gasp just as quickly.
When Enzo turned to look at him with a raised brow and a stern look, he muttered, “You—You don’t have to do that.” He cracked the protein shake and made a show of downing half of it in one go. “See? This is fine. This is great.”
Enzo studied him for a long moment before his shoulders sagged and he shook his head.
“You’re in law school, right?” Enzo asked. “Are you at Strawbridge?”
Seven nodded, trying to look anywhere but at Enzo, hoping he didn’t see his hands shaking. “Yeah.”
Seven had just secured the lid back on his chocolate protein bottle when Enzo backed him right up against the kitchen counter, well-muscled arms caging him in. He fumbled the plastic bottle in his hands, making a dismayed sound when it fell to the hardwood floor, bouncing twice before rolling away.
“Do I make you nervous, brat baby?” Seven flicked his gaze up, his mouth a hard line, but before he could answer, Enzo leaned in close. “Don’t even think of lying to me right now. I’ll know.”
Seven’s cock twitched in his jeans. He swallowed audibly, hyper-aware of Enzo’s body pressed to his. “Yeah, you would make anyone nervous,” he managed, voice shaking.
Enzo huffed out a laugh. “Not anyone. You should see the way my family treats me.” Seven jerked his head up in surprise, making eye contact. “That’s better,” Enzo praised. “Is it that hard to look at me?”
“Kinda, yeah,” Seven admitted.
“Is it because I’m so hot?” he said, his tone teasing.
Seven scoffed. “No, it’s because you’re huge.”
That wasn’t totally true. He was no more than five or six inches taller than Seven’s five-foot-eight, but he felt large, his frame much larger and broader than Seven’s.
“Does my size scare you?”
“No, it just gives me a kink in my neck trying to look at you,” he deadpanned.
Enzo chuckled. “You didn’t seem scared of me the other day. And I’m way scarier at work.”
Seven rolled his eyes. “At work, you’re not gonna shove me up against countertops and suck all the air from the room.”
Enzo traced Seven’s jaw with his thumb. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that. I’m not exactly a model employee, and you are far too tempting to ignore. But if you want me to move, just ask.”
He didn’t want him to move; he needed him to move.
He couldn’t think with him so close. He could feel the heat of his body and smell the spicy scent of his body wash.
Seven fought the urge to bury his face in Enzo’s neck.
He swallowed loudly as he pictured himself doing just that while Enzo fucked him into the mattress.
What was he doing there? This man was a hazard to Seven’s mental health. Why had he run to him when he was in a vulnerable state?
Because you know he’ll baby you. You know he’ll take care of you…even if it’s just one night.
If he lasted the night. He’d just gotten there, and he was already too worked up. Seven chewed on his lower lip, trying to muster the courage to say…something. Why did this man intimidate him so much?
“Can you please move back? Just a little?”
“Good job asking so politely,” Enzo whispered in his ear before taking two steps back. Seven immediately felt the loss, the air between them cold compared to Enzo’s warmth.
Seven really was fucked in the head right now.
“You’re useless. Of all my kids, you’re my biggest regret.”
Seven’s stomach churned. He hated his father, hated him more than he’d ever thought possible.
So, why did his words still cut so deep?
Seven was an adult. He was in law school.
He paid taxes and…fuck, he killed people.
But today, he felt emotionally stripped bare.
So, why had he walked himself straight into the lion’s den?
“Better, brat baby?”
“Why do you call me that?” Seven muttered.
“For the same reason you called me Daddy, I guess. It suits you.”
Seven crossed his arms over his chest, giving Enzo a sullen look. “Don’t flatter yourself. I call every hot, older guy Daddy.”
Enzo’s brow went up, a look of warning in those warm brown eyes. “Careful…I’m definitely the jealous type,” he said.
Seven’s insides shivered. “Yeah, well…don’t get too attached. This is a one-time thing.”
“So fierce,” Enzo mocked, but there was a fondness to his tone. Enzo walked back into Seven’s space, then took his hand, threading their fingers together and pulling him towards the couch. “Let’s talk.”
Seven’s heart sank, tears threatening.
Pull it together. He just wants to talk.
Jesus. This was so fucking embarrassing.
“About?” he managed.
Enzo gestured to the couch. “Sit.”
Seven collapsed as if Enzo had kneecapped him. The older man’s lips twitched, but he said nothing. When he sat down beside him, he made sure there was some distance between them. Seven was both grateful and bereft over it.
“Why did you contact me tonight?” Enzo asked softly.