Chapter 6 Enzo
Iturn the doorknob and step into my study. Gabriel is there, standing awkwardly by the bookshelf, his face stern and full of anxiety, but it's not him I'm here to see. My eyes scan the room and are immediately drawn to the woman seated before me.
Livia Falcone.
My future wife.
The sight of her catches me off guard. Beyond photos, it's been years since I've seen her, and I now realize images haven't done her justice.
The first thing that strikes me is her disheveled appearance. Her chestnut brown hair, which in pictures is long and flowing, is up in a messy bun. A few strands gently lay on her cheeks, framing her face almost perfectly.
Her eyes, a deep, rich brown, are red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears. There are faint tracks on her cheeks where earlier tears have dried. Her full lips are slightly parted, a soft, tempting pink that begs to be claimed.
I wonder what they taste like.
She's beautiful, even more so in her vulnerability.
I find my gaze drawn to the soft, gentle side of her neck, the rapid pulse I can see beating there.
My eyes trace the curve of her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts, the fabric of her wrinkled shirt pulled taut across them.
She's a captivating blend of strength and fragility, her posture rigid with defiance yet trembling with the effort it takes to maintain it.
My gaze continues its descent, lingering on the flare of her hips, the way her jeans cling to her slender legs.
An unwelcome heat of arousal, a spark of raw interest that has no place in the strategic outlook of my life. But there's no denying it. Livia Falcone, with her tear-stained cheeks and fierce brown eyes, has awakened something primal within me.
I force myself to speak while maintaining my composure.
"Livia," I say, my voice steady despite the unexpected surge of desire. "Welcome to my home."
She doesn't respond, just stares at me with those wide, frightened eyes. I move further into the room, focused solely on her, almost unable to look away.
After some back and forth, I get a taste of the fire within her. However, I'm unsure if it's there because her brother is standing 10 feet from her or if it's a part of who she is. I need to find out, so for the first time, I look up and acknowledge Gabriel.
I walk over and lean into him to tell him in a low tone so she won't hear, "I will take care of her from now on. You've done your part."
Leaning back, I dismiss him loudly so she knows she'll now be alone with me.
Let's see if the fire dies.
Once Gabriel leaves, she stands.
“Look, I —” she tries to speak, but I cut her off, “Let us go —” to which she interrupts me and responds with, "I won't make this easy for you."
Hmm, maybe the fire is part of her.
I open the door and guide Livia out of the study, my hand instinctively finds the small of her back. Even through the fabric of her shirt, I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin. She tenses at my touch but doesn't pull away.
"Let me show you around," I say, my voice low and intimate. "This house has been in my family for a few generations."
As we move, our footsteps echo on the marble floor. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over expensive custom furniture and priceless artwork. I can't help the pride that seeps into my voice as I describe each piece, each room.
"That's a real Caravaggio," I say, nodding toward a dramatic painting in a gold-leaf frame. "One of his lost works. You won't find it in any art history books."
Livia's eyes tell me she's interested, even if she tries to hide the flicker of awe that flashed across her face.
I smirk and continue, "The marble flooring you're walking on, my grandfather had imported from one of the finest places in Firenze. Also, the chandeliers are all real crystal, it reflects the light better."
We pass by a reinforced door, guarded by one of my men. "My private office," I explain. "You'll need clearance to enter. For safety reasons, of course."
As we climb the grand staircase, I point out other security features.
"See the ornate moldings throughout the home?" I ask, pointing to the ceiling. "They're hidden cameras. Oh, and all the windows are made of bulletproof glass." She remains quiet and observant, taking everything in.
As we reach the top step, she stumbles. I react instinctively, pulling her against my chest to steady her. For a moment, we're pressed together, her soft curves molding against my firm body. Our eyes lock, and I feel a jolt of something course through me.
Livia's breathes slowly as she looks up at me, her lips parting slightly. I can smell the faint scent of her perfume. It's intoxicating.
My gaze drops to her mouth, and for a split second, the urge to claim those lips resurfaces.
But no. Not yet. I can't give away my strategic position.
I set her back on her feet, my hands lingering on her waist a moment longer than necessary. "Careful," I say. "We wouldn't want you getting hurt."
Livia jerks away, her cheeks flushed. "I'm fine," she snaps.
I smile. "Of course you are. Shall we continue?"
We resume our walk, the tension between us now thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel Livia's gaze burning into me, a mix of anger and something else. Something she's trying desperately to hide.
Maybe we're both doing that?
We walk past a window that overlooks the estate, and I stop and point out, "You'll also notice the guards stationed throughout the property, both inside and outside. So," I say and look down at her, "you'll be safe here. No one gets in or out without my say-so."
As we approach the East Wing, where our suite is located, I return my hand to her lower back. "Almost there," I tell her, my voice low. "I think you'll find our wing quite comfortable."
"Wing?" she asks.
I don't respond. Instead, I nod to the two men guarding the large double doors, and they swing them open.
"Welcome to our suite, cara mia," I say as we walk past the men who quickly shut the doors behind us, the sound of them closing causing Livia to jump.
I'm surprised by how interested I am in this moment, the grand reveal of the space that will be our shared domain.
I watch as she looks around.
"This is a bedroom?" she asks.
"Well, yes, but it's more of…well, let me show you."
We walk down the hallway that's lined with artwork and sculptures of replicas of Greek gods from the Renaissance.
As we enter the main bedroom area, I watch as Livia takes in the floor-to-ceiling windows and the left side wall, which is adorned with hand-painted Italian frescoes, depicting scenes from classical mythology.
I walk a little further into the room as she looks around. Her eyes move from the crystal lighting to the living area where a few chairs, a plush chaise lounge, and a fireplace are located.
She looks so small, so fragile in this grand space. A part of me suddenly wants to wrap my arms around her and protect her, but I shake it off.
"What do you think?" I ask, my voice low.
Livia turns to face me, he face giving away no emotion. "It's impressive," she admits grudgingly, "a bit much maybe."
I laugh, moving further into the room. "The bed," I say, pointing to the massive four-poster bed that dominates the center of the room, "is a 17th-century Venetian piece," I explain, running my hand along the intricately carved footboard.
"The mattress, however, is very much modern. Memory foam. It's quite nice."
"Only one bed in here?" she asks.
I smirk. "Also, the headboard," which is a work of art in itself, "is hand-carved mahogany. It depicts scenes from—"
"Dante's Inferno. Yes, I see that," she says, cutting me off.
I look at her and notice a twinkle of pride in her eye for the first time. She's proud of knowing that.
"Yes, of course. I suppose Victorian literature isn't the limit of your knowledge," I say with a smile.
She snaps her head at me. "It's Dante—who doesn't know Dante?"
"Most outside your academic circle," I say firmly. "It's always best to assume people don't know what you're talking about. This way, you never make the habit of talking down to them."
She stares at me for a moment, then looks away without speaking.
I turn around. "The sitting area may bring you some comfort. A book by the fire may be something you like, and here you can do that."
She turns and studies the area.
"Over here," I continue, leading her to a set of French doors, "is your private balcony. My favorite thing is to watch the sunsets from this very spot."
I glance at her and see a slight flush of color on her cheeks. She's trying so hard to maintain her composure, but I can see the cracks in her armor.
I open the doors, and a warm breeze carries the scent of roses into the room. Livia steps out onto the balcony, her hair lifting slightly in the wind. For a moment, I'm transfixed by the way the sunlight catches in her chestnut hair.
I shake my head and continue on.
"And this," I say, guiding her back inside and towards another door, "is your walk-in closet."
I push open the door, revealing a space almost as large as the bedroom itself. Rows of designer clothes, shoes, and accessories line the walls, and a massive vanity takes up the far left corner.
"I took the liberty of having some clothes, shoes, and other items brought in for you," I explain. "I was told your size, but if anything doesn't fit or isn't to your taste, just let Marcella know. She'll take care of it."
"How thoughtful," she says acting unimpressed and full of sarcasm. "And here I thought I'd have to wear my own clothes that I brought."
I step closer to her, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath. "If that's what you want, but please look over what I've gotten for you," I say, my eyes locked on hers.
I can see the conflict in Livia's eyes, a mixture of things I can't decipher.
I step away, giving her space to process my words. I walk towards the en-suite bathroom, pushing open the door. "Come," I call over my shoulder. "Let me show you the rest."
The bathroom is marble with sparse gold touches throughout. I notice her eyes go right for the sunken tub, large enough for two, and then shift to the spacious rainfall shower enclosed in glass.
I point to the sink on the right. "This side is yours. Everything you need should be here," I say, opening the cupboard and drawers to reveal all the stocked products I had placed here for her.
I glance up and see Livia's reflection in the mirror that spans the entire length of the room as she takes it all in. "If there's anything missing, just ask, or again, let Marcella know."
I exit back into the main room, and after a few moments, Livia joins me.
She takes one more look around and then speaks.
"Again, there's only one bed? Where will you sleep?" she asks, her voice lined with a hint of defiance.
I laugh. "Here, of course. This is our suite, cara mia. Our bed." I gesture towards the massive centerpiece in the room.
Her eyes widen, a flicker of fear, or maybe excitement, passes across her face. "I won't be—"
I raise my hand. "For now, I'll leave you to get settled. One of my men will bring you your suitcase," I say and start walking to leave. "Dinner will be served at eight. I expect you to join me."
As I reach the door to leave, I turn back for one last look. Livia stands in the center of the room, bathed in the golden light of the sun. She looks like a goddess, poised, defiant, and beautiful.
I exit, nodding to the two men guarding the door.
As I walk away, I think to myself, this is just the beginning. Just the beginning of what I have in store for you.