Chapter 43 #2
“I did,” I confirm, squeezing Enzo’s hand again. “I know what I want too.”
Something passes between us, a current of understanding that transcends words. She sees something in me that she recognizes—not a threat to her son, but a match.
Her eyes soften almost imperceptibly as she looks at Enzo. “Even as a child. He was always watching, always three steps ahead of everyone else.” She shifts her gaze back to me. “It’s rare that he lets anyone close enough to see the real him.”
I feel the weight of her words; the test hidden within them. I hold her gaze. “I don’t take the privilege lightly.” Not because I’m brave. Because he’s here. Because if I stumble, he’ll catch me before I hit the ground.
Her lips curve into something more genuine than her earlier smiles. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t believe you do.”
The grandfather clock in the corner chimes softly, and she rises in one fluid motion. “I think it’s time for dinner,” she announces, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress. “Though I’m afraid I won’t be joining you as I have a previous engagement.”
I blink, surprise momentarily breaking through my composed facade. We came all this way for dinner, and she’s ditching us?
Enzo doesn’t seem surprised. “Give my regards to the host,” he says, standing and helping me to my feet.
“Of course,” she replies, then turns to me. “It was enlightening to meet you, Piper. I do hope we’ll see more of each other.”
With that, she glides from the room, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her perfume and the distinct impression that I’ve passed some crucial test.
“Come,” Enzo murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “The others are waiting.”
The evening is only beginning, and I’ve already navigated my first trial by fire.
We move deeper into the estate until we reach another massive room, this one dominated by a long table of dark wood so polished I can see my reflection on its surface. Three men are already seated, their conversation cutting off abruptly as we enter.
The silence feels like a blade drawn across exposed skin—not painful yet, but the threat is there. The man at the head of the table rises first. He’s younger than Enzo but cut from the same cloth—expensive suit, calculated movements, eyes that miss nothing.
“Lorenzo.”
“Remus,” Enzo replies, pulling me closer to his side.
Remus’ gaze cuts to me; cold, calculating. Like he’s weighing my value on a scale that could tip either way. It’s as though he’s calculating my value in a complex equation. “You must be Piper,” he says. “I’m Remus. ” The way he offers no last name tells me it’s the same as Enzo’s.
“A pleasure,” I say, meeting his eyes directly. I feel Enzo’s approval in the slight pressure of his fingers against my spine.
“Sit,” Remus says, and it’s more of a decree than an invitation. Authority runs thick in Russo blood.
As we move toward our seats, the man on Remus’s right smiles at me. “Nice to see you again, Piper.”
I pause, searching his face. I’ve never met him before.
“Rafe,” he supplies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Though we weren’t formally introduced last time.”
Before I can ask what he means, the third man sprawls in his chair with the lazy menace of someone who knows exactly how dangerous he is.
He barks a short laugh. “Fuck, I barely recognized you without Lorenzo’s cock in your mouth,” he says, grinning wolfishly.
“The blindfold was a nice touch, though.”
Enzo goes rigid beside me, a current of lethal energy vibrating through him so strongly I can feel it against my skin. The temperature in the room seems to drop by ten degrees.
“Matteo,” he growls. “Shut the fuck up.”
Ahh… the penny drops; Rafe and Matteo, they were there at my interview. Yeah… not awkward at all. But I don’t shrink. I laugh—deep, unapologetic, and just loud enough to make Matteo blink.
I slide into my designated chair and reach for the wine already poured. “I’m not sure why you’re thinking about his cock when I was kneeling in only my underwear,” I say, taking a sip. “But I don’t judge.”
Matteo’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he bursts into laughter again. This time with real pleasure rather than mockery. “Fuck, Enzo, she’s a keeper.”
The tension bleeds from Enzo’s body as he takes his seat beside me, his thigh pressing against mine beneath the table. His hand finds my knee, squeezing once—approval, gratitude, desire, all compressed into a single touch.
He doesn’t need to speak to make his claim. The way he touches me—the way he lets them see he’ll burn the world down if I’m harmed—is enough.
Dinner unfolds like a chess match in candlelight. Casual moves hiding sharp edges. Staff appear and disappear with silent efficiency, serving courses that would make Michelin-starred restaurants envious.
“That fire in Brighton Heights,” Matteo says at one point, tearing into his steak with barely restrained violence. “Clean job. No trace.”
“The insurance won’t pay out,” Rafe replies, his tone conversational. “Too many questions.”
“That wasn’t the point,” Remus interjects, not looking up from his plate. “It was about the message. Why is Enzo the only one who can delive r a message without violence?”
Matteo guffaws. “Yeah, say that to Senator Jacobs. That was a bloody message—”
“I swear to God, I’ll fucking stab you,” Enzo growls.
Rafe looks over at me, and the grimace he makes is enough to tell me he doesn’t like what he sees on my face. “Guess you didn’t know about that one,” he says, and there’s a lilt of apology in his tone.
I chew slowly, letting the weight of it settle in my gut like warm metal. Yet, all I can think is, I fucking knew it. I still remember seeing Senator Jacobs resign, and even then, it felt forced.
“Why did he resign?” I hear myself asking, catching Enzo’s eyes.
“Jacobs brutalized several interns,” he replies coldly. “It was needed.”
Nodding, I take another bite of the food. “And you murdered him?”
Instead of being horrified, I find myself leaning forward slightly, intrigued by the power dynamics at play. By the casual way they wield influence that most people only dream about.
“Technically, Cy did,” Enzo replies. “But yes, Senator Jacobs died for his transgressions.”
I lean closer to Enzo and lower my voice as I ask, “Have you ever killed someone who didn’t deserve it?”
“No.” There’s no hesitation in the answer. “And I rarely kill. It’s not what I do.”
Closing my eyes, I take a moment to contemplate everything I’ve learned. It’s a lot to take in, but surprisingly, I’m not as appalled by it as I would have thought I’d be. I mean, politics is messy.
I was never one of those getting into it without knowing the stakes, and the dirty deals that sometimes take place. World leaders have to sacrifice people all the time, so is this really that different? No, I don’t think so.
But… it all comes down to one simple thing. A burning question I need to ask. “Will I have to kill someone?” I whisper.
Enzo takes my hand, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the palm. “No, Toy. Not unless you want to.”
The answer takes me by surprise. That’s definitely not something I want to do. Not even Ben, who I know Enzo still holds captured. Does he deserve death? Yeah, he needs to pay. I just don’t want to be the one to do it.
“I don’t want to kill,” I murmur, stroking his cheek. “But I want to be there when you finish Ben. I want to see his face when he realizes it’s too late, and you’re the one who ends it with me at your side.”
Enzo presses one last kiss to my hand before moving it under the table, interlacing our fingers, and I squeeze back—a silent affirmation. I’m not running. I’m not afraid. I’m already inside the fire—and I want to see how far it burns.