Serena
I wiped the counter, cleaning up the mess Harper had made eating her cereal, which she had dubbed the most amazing ever. It was Cheerios.
I was trying to explain to her that we’d be staying with Enzo for a while. She didn’t take the first four reasons I’d given her: there was something wrong with the toilet, we needed a bigger place to run around, I needed to help Enzo with some work, and it was easier to stay here, and why not?
“Why?” Harper asked, for what felt like the hundredth time, but it was probably her seventh.
“Because that’s the way it is,” I said, trying another version of the same answer. I closed my eyes, hoping this was the last time and that we could move on to something else.
Harper narrowed her eyes at me, then nodded her head.
“Is Enzo your boyfriend?” Harper asked.
I stopped moving; I wasn’t sure I was breathing.
I licked my lips, buying time to answer. One thing I didn’t do was lie to my girl. I gave her age-appropriate answers whenever possible.
“Hey.” Enzo’s gruff voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Got dinner.” He placed six bags of groceries on the kitchen counter next to me.
He turned, gaze flicking from me to Harper, who stared back at him like a deer in headlights.
“Did I interrupt something? Should I leave?” he asked.
Harper opened her mouth.
“No. Stay,” I said hastily, interrupting whatever Harper was going to say. No doubt it was something that would embarrass me, if history was anything to go by. “You mentioned dinner?”
I grabbed the bags, nerves filling me. We were alone in the house, perhaps for the first time since I arrived.
“I got the seven-cheese mac on deck,” he announced as he pulled out multiple different blocks of cheese and lined them on the table in front of Harper, whose jaw dropped. “It’s a delicacy.”
Pulling out the contents of the bags, I realized each item was a favorite of Harper’s or mine.
The only vegetable pouches Harper would eat, movie theater popcorn, coffee pods, and more. I lined each of them up, first because I wasn’t sure where all this food went—the cabinets were all filled with other, nonfood items—but also because I’d never bought this many groceries in my life.
Partially because I didn’t have the room, but also because there was no way I was ever going to eat all of it.
I was still in a daze, staring at the food, when a big, warm hand slid to the nape of my neck, cupping it gently. A shiver ran down my spine at the contact, and I couldn’t help but take a quick, shallow breath.
“You okay?” His voice was low and measured, but laced with concern. “Do you want me to leave so you can talk to Harper in private?”
I couldn’t stop my gaze from flicking up to him.
His thumb moved in small, almost hypnotic circles at the base of my skull, massaging away the tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.
The heat of his skin seared through me, the nearness of him making my mouth go dry.
I felt my chest tighten as my mind stuttered—one part desperate to pull away, the other wanting to melt right into him.
“I… I’m fine,” I managed to choke out, though my voice sounded smaller than I intended.
Enzo’s eyes softened as he studied me, and for a heartbeat, the room shrank to just the two of us—his hand still cradling the back of my neck, his presence radiating an intensity I could feel in my bones.
I stared into his brown eyes, wanting so badly to get lost in them, but resisted.
The more time I spent in this house, the more it was like reality was warping around me. I woke up, and Harper was in another room, playing with toys and dolls. When I walked down the steps, it was to the kitchen, not because I had to leave the building.
There was more than one bathroom, and more closet space in a single room than I think I had in my entire studio.
The windows were always open, fresh air constantly flowing. Nothing about this place felt cramped,
Somehow, I woke up in one of my fantasies.
“No.” I took a step back, not trusting myself not to do something inappropriate like throwing myself at him if I didn’t. “This is a lot of food.”
“Let’s get cooking.” Enzo ignored my comment and pulled a chair next to him on the counter. Harper climbed on, like she cooked there every night.
“Here we are.” Enzo came from the pantry holding another bag. “For the chef. This is from Martina.” Enzo proceeded to pull out a child-sized apron, a chef’s hat, and multiple kid-friendly knives.
Which reminded me that I had been here for three days and still hadn’t called her or Minnie to let them know what was going on.
It was Monday night. Harper didn’t go to school today because I was too anxious to have her out of my sight, but she has to go tomorrow.
The problem was I didn’t know if I had her uniform or how I’d get her there.
We were far from the train, and I hated taking buses.
Hands caged me to the counter on either side. I gripped the edge as his front pressed against my back, folding over until his chin rested against my shoulder.
My heart leaped into a sprint in my chest. I stared at Enzo’s face in the window’s reflection. My thoughts fragmented. I was doing something, wasn’t I? There were questions I needed to ask him, but...what were they?
I wasn’t used to being touched in a flirty way like this. It was flirting, right? Was I reading this wrong, and was this simply how men offered comfort? Or maybe it was how Enzo did comfort?
For so long, he was this impenetrable wall. Pretty to look at, radiating danger that made people want to give him a wide berth.
Yet, here he was, bringing presents home for my daughter, promising me safety and asking nothing in return. He constantly offered comfort, always finding moments to touch me, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I knew I wanted it to mean he liked me and wanted me close, but what if I was wrong?
I was so scared to be wrong.
We stayed like that for a second? Hours? A week? I had no concept of time when he was so close.
“After dinner,” he said into my ear, his breath skating against my neck, “we’re going to talk.”
I nodded as Enzo moved away from me, leaving me cold and anxious for the rest of dinner.
He was going to ask us to leave. I knew our time in the bubble was going to pop.
We had to leave at some point, right? Enzo had a life to live, deals to do in the dark, women to...I didn’t want to think of what he did with other women.
We were taking up his valuable time and invading his space. That wasn’t right. I understood the idea of being chivalrous, but there was a point when it needed to end.
Minnie or Martina might help until I can find a new place and sell the studio. Being away from it solidified that there was no way I could sleep there again.
I looked over, and Harper was whispering something into Enzo’s ear. He listened intently, brows furrowed. He turned and whispered back, and she giggled.
I started clearing the plates, needing to move. The faster we had our conversation, the faster I could start planning.
“Let’s get ready for bed. We need to wake up a little earlier for school tomorrow since we’re farther away,” Enzo said, grabbing his plate and following me to the sink.
“Okay. I’m going to find my baby dolls and get them ready for bed,” Harper said, jumping down from her chair and racing out of the room.
The room was silent without Harper’s constant chatter. It weighed on my shoulders.
“You had something you wanted to discuss,” I said, wiping my hands with a towel.
Enzo walked to the French doors that led to the backyard, opened them, and gestured for me to follow.
Right. We shouldn’t have this conversation where Harper can hear us.
I followed behind him, walking the short distance from the house, past the glass hothouse, to the shed at the back.
The backyard was enormous—the result of combining three lots into one.
When we walked out, there was a large stone patio with chairs, a long glass table, and a big umbrella. There was a large patch of green grass beyond the stone that ran to the back, ending in a solid wooden fence. The yard was flanked by a greenhouse on one side and a big shed on the other.
We went down the path that led to the shed. Enzo opened the door, flicked on the light, and held his hand out for me to enter first.
Whatever I had assumed was in there, it wasn’t this.
Multiple mannequins, the high-quality kind that I had been putting off buying, lined the far side of the room.
Two large tables, one a cutting table and the other a sewing table, were at the center.
The other side had open shelves for fabric.
In the corner, three mirrors surrounded an elevated dais.
The big bay windows were open; fresh, salty air filled the room.
I rubbed my eyes. Everything was still there. I took a tentative step inside.
I went over to each area, heart pounding, tears pressing against my eyes. Reverently, I touched the table, the expensive sewing machine. Everything.
It was like someone had picked out my dream studio and created it here.
“Do you like it?” Enzo asked.
I whipped around. I forgot that he was there. Afraid of what my voice would sound like, I merely nodded.
Swallowing, I tried to get a handle on the riot of emotions.
“How is all this here?” I asked.
“You need a place to work.” Enzo shrugged, putting a hand in his pocket. “Now, you have a place to work.”
I covered my face, trying to think of the next question I wanted to ask. “When did all this happen? I’ve been here for what? Three days? I didn’t see anyone carrying anything like this outside.”
“The men knew not to be spotted.” Enzo went to a table, leaning back against it. “So, tell me, bellisima, will this do? Is there something missing? All you have to do is say it. I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
“This is a lot,” I said, my voice wavering. “I can’t even...” I stopped and tried again. “Lorenzo, this is more than anyone has ever done for me. As much as I don’t want to take advantage—”