2. Enzo #2
Aftercare was one thing, but Enzo didn’t have time to deal with all the drama that came with relationships.
It was always the same thing. Hurt feelings over canceled plans, crying when he wouldn’t bring them to meet his family, fury because he was secretive and tended to leave home at all hours of the night.
He got why they were upset, but that was why he just stayed single.
Now, he just played with people who understood there were terms and conditions to being with him for longer than a one-night stand. Seven had been the exception to his rule, but the more Enzo thought of him—which was often—the more he realized Seven was kind of perfect.
The beauty of Seven was that he already knew Enzo wasn’t who he said he was. He understood the need for secrecy. He could be around without fear of him overhearing something that might shock him or cause him to turn on Enzo and destroy their family.
They could both get something out of this. If he was willing to meet Enzo’s stipulations. Would he be willing? Would he see how this could be a beneficial thing…for both of them? Seven had left him that morning. He had to see the benefit. Right?
At least, that was what Enzo had decided when, out of the blue, Seven had texted him again last night. It wasn’t much, just three letters delivered ten minutes before midnight:
WYD.
What you doing? Enzo had stared at it for an hour, a smirk on his face. Did the kid think he would invite him over again? Exchange dick pics? Was he looking for another hook-up? Enzo disavowed him of that idea with just two words.
Try again.
He’d jerked off later with memories of Seven crying beneath him, then went to sleep without checking to see if he’d responded. In the morning, there was nothing. Enzo had only shrugged and gotten ready for work. It had been a little past ten-thirty when he’d received a new message.
Brat Baby
How’s your day going? Did you sleep well?
God, that was so cute. Enzo had rewarded Seven’s good behavior by responding promptly.
Busy. I slept about as well as I usually do. How’s your day, brat baby?
Seven responded back immediately.
Brat Baby
Classes were canceled. Bomb scare. I’m bored.
Enzo should have made him wait. He should have given him a polite response and then held back a few days before giving him any attention for both their sakes. Instead, he’d invited him to lunch that same day.
Better to rip off the Band-Aid now and see if he was even willing to play the way Enzo wanted. It was better to be upfront about what he was willing to give.
Lucky rolled his eyes. “You and Vince are a whole other level of twisted. I don’t know how you two turned out to be such freaks while the rest of us are normal.”
Their younger brother, Vince, owned an underground BDSM club.
Lost Eden. Enzo preferred to find his playmates there since the rules were well established before anyone—them—might catch feelings.
Seven was out of Enzo’s comfort zone, but there was just something about the kid he couldn’t resist, in or out of bed.
Enzo snorted. “Normal? You’re a dirty cop whose longest relationship is with a ten-year-old basset hound named Agatha.
Rafa is so high on the spectrum, his friends call him Sheldon.
Oh, sorry, his friend. Singular. Gio makes junkyard dogs look like Snoopy.
Dante spends his days putting people’s eyeballs on little spikes like they’re party favors.
Alexi makes toys that literally kill people.
And while most college kids are drinking ‘til they puke at frat parties, the twins’ idea of fun is bankrupting billion dollar corporations and redistributing their funds to overseas charities.
And don’t get me started on the triplets. What about any of that is normal?”
Lucky sighed through his nose. “Okay, fine. None of us are normal. But you and Vince are next-level kinky. At least you keep it extracurricular. Vince is such a pervert, he made it a full-time job.”
Enzo rolled his eyes. “Who knew cops had such delicate constitutions? You make it sound like he’s a porn star and not the owner of one of the most successful clubs in the country. And don’t forget, his business is what allows us to do what we do.”
Lucky wasn’t a hundred percent wrong about Vince.
He was a bit…off. But Enzo refused to give Lucky that win.
Besides, he was hardly a saint. He was a detective with major crimes at the one-ten, but his real job was keeping prying eyes off the family.
Everyone had a role to play, but for some reason, Lucky thought his made him more virtuous somehow.
Mama should have just let him become a priest.
Nobody was innocent in their family, but it was for the greater good.
Much like the Mulvaneys, Francesca Conti—known affectionately as Mama to the whole neighborhood—had raised her children to do bad things for good reasons.
What had started out as a revenge scheme was now so much more.
If Thomas Mulvaney was Batman and Jericho Navarro was Peter Pan, then Francesca Conti was Robin Hood and her children were her merry men… and women.
The phone on his desk buzzed. Enzo pushed the button, wincing as Drucilla’s condescending voice announced, “Your…guest is here.”
“Send him in.” Once he disconnected the call, he looked at his brother. “Get out.”
Lucky snorted but rose to his feet. “I’m telling Mama.”
Enzo gave him a smug look. “Go ahead. She already knows him, anyway.”
“What?”
“She knows all of Jericho’s boys. One of them works for her, remember?”
Lucky blinked at him. “I thought you were joking.”
Enzo grinned. “I’m not. If he accepts my offer, I’m gonna keep him around for a while.”
“What are you going to tell her?” Lucky asked, narrowing his gaze at him. “Since I doubt it will be the truth.”
“It will be my version of the truth,” Enzo countered with a shrug.
Lucky gave him a flat stare. “The truth doesn’t have versions.”
Enzo chuckled. “Oh, now, we both know that’s not true.” He waved him off. “Now, go away and mind your own business.”
“I’m out,” Lucky said, shaking his head.
As his brother opened the door, Enzo called, “Say hi to Agatha for me. Give her a big sloppy kiss. It will probably be the most action you’ve seen in years.”
Something kicked in Enzo’s stomach when Seven appeared in the doorway, eyes going wide as he took in Lucky.
His brother wasn’t as physically imposing as Enzo, but it wasn’t his physique that had Seven’s attention.
It was the badge hooked to his belt. Lucky snorted when he saw the brat’s fixation, then turned to Enzo with a final, “See ya, bro.”
With that, Enzo and Seven were alone.
“Come in,” Enzo said, waving him forward, keeping his tone neutral as he looked the boy over.
Seven had skipped the oversized hoodie and baggy jeans for well-fitted olive green cargos, a caramel-colored sweater, and a pair of snowy white sneakers.
Perfect. He looked gorgeous. He also looked incredibly nervous, though he tried to hide it by rounding his shoulders and digging his hands into his pockets.
He’d been nervous that night, too. It was sexy.
Endearing, his brain added. He promptly told it to shut up.
He couldn’t afford to start thinking of Seven as anything more than a sub. It would ruin whatever it was they could have.
He clicked a button on the small white remote on his desk. Seven flinched as the automatic blinds began to slowly roll down the glass office wall. Enzo’s dick twitched with interest at the younger boy’s reaction.
Seven hovered close to the exit, like he worried he’d have to make a run for it.
“Come here,” Enzo said softly.
Seven’s startled gaze flicked to his, but he complied, moving deeper into the space, his expression wary.
Enzo tilted his head, studying him, when he stopped once more, keeping his distance. “Are you still afraid of me?”
Seven’s gaze jerked to his, expression mutinous. “No,” he snapped. Enzo couldn’t stop the grin that broke out across his face. This only seemed to further antagonize him. Just like that first night. “I just don’t like cops.”
“Aren’t you in law school?” Enzo asked, amused.
Seven narrowed his gaze. “Maybe I’m in law school to be a defense attorney? Cops lie all the time, doctor evidence, kill people.”
“You kill people,” Enzo teased. “And I doctor evidence. It’s just the way the world works. Not every cop is dirty. Not every defense attorney is a scumbag. But some are.”
Seven shrugged, nodding his head, abandoning his argument. “That’s really your brother?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder like he expected to find Lucky lurking behind him.
Enzo gave a half-smile. “So my mother tells me. It’s possible she grabbed the wrong baby from the hospital. He really doesn’t look like the rest of us.” He crooked his finger at Seven, then pointed to the space in front of him. “Come here.”
Seven licked his bottom lip, hands still buried in his pockets as he crept closer.
“Quickly,” Enzo urged in a sing-song voice, just to watch Seven sulk.
He glowered at him, if anything moving slower, coming to stand in the space between Enzo and his desk.
Once there, he crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance like he was trying to look intimidating.
It probably worked on most people. Enzo found it kind of adorable.
He found Seven kind of adorable…and that made him dangerous.
“Why do you look so nervous?” he taunted, reaching out to run his knuckle along Seven’s thigh. “My brother’s not even here.”
Seven looked two seconds away from jumping out of his skin. “I just don’t know why I’m here,” he mumbled.
Enzo rolled his chair a little closer, his legs easily slipping between Seven’s. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence. “You hit me up. Remember? What was it you said? Oh, right. ‘What you doing?’ What were you hoping to accomplish with that? Hmm?”