Chapter 26 Enzo
I reach her driveway just as her reverse lights illuminate. Perfect timing. She's blocked before she can escape, but not so trapped that she'll panic and do something genuinely dangerous.
I park behind her car and observe for a moment before getting out. She's sitting in the driver's seat, engine running, clearly deciding whether to fight or surrender. Her silhouette in the rearview mirror shows tension in every line of her body.
This is the moment everything changes between us.
I made a critical error during the phone call.
The moment I quoted Sarah's exact words—words Madison never told me—I knew I'd revealed too much. Years of careful control, months of meticulous planning, all undone by a single slip of the tongue.
I approach her car calmly, my footsteps loud enough on the gravel that she'll hear me coming. Predictable movements, non-threatening posture. I want her alert but not terrified. Terror leads to poor decisions.
When I tap on her window, she doesn't respond. She’s making me work for this conversation.
"Madison," I say, my voice carrying easily through the glass. "We need to talk."
She doesn't move to roll down the window, but she also doesn't try to drive away. She's calculating her options, realizing they're limited.
"Turn off the car. Let's handle this like adults."
She doesn’t turn off the car.
"Madison." I let a note of warning enter my voice. "Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."
The truth is, this moment was always inevitable.
I've been preparing for it since the day she arrived in Monte Vento, though I'd hoped to control the timing better.
Madison is too intelligent, too observant to accept the surface reality indefinitely.
Eventually, she was going to notice inconsistencies, ask uncomfortable questions, demand answers I couldn't give without revealing everything.
The only surprise is that it took this long.
I walk around to the passenger side of her car and try the door handle. Unlocked. She really is too trusting for her own good.
I slide into the passenger seat, and she immediately turns to stare at me with those blue eyes that have been causing me problems since day one.
"Get out of my car," she says, her voice steadier than I expected.
"It's not your car. It's a rental registered to a company I control."
The information shocks her “What?"
"The rental agency, the insurance, the registration. They’re all managed through my business interests. You never had independent transportation, Madison. You had the illusion of independence."
She's staring at me like I'm speaking a foreign language. "The lottery. The house. Giuseppe's debt—"
"All carefully arranged."
"That's impossible. The Italian government lottery—"
"Is administered by regional officials who understand the value of cooperation with local business interests."
I watch her process this information, see the moment she realizes the scope of what I'm telling her.
Suddenly she jumps out of the car and rushes back into her house with me right behind her. “Madison, wait!”
She whirls around, furious with me. "You're saying you orchestrated everything? My winning the lottery, buying the house, the debt that tied me to you?"
"Not everything. I'm only saying that when someone with my resources wants a particular outcome, that outcome becomes inevitable."
“You watched me build a life on lies and never said a word. You let me believe this life was mine!”
I don’t step back. “It was always mine. Including you.” I let the sentence hang between us, simple, true.
Her hand comes up before I can react. The slap is clean and hot across my cheek, a sound sharp enough to slice the quiet.
For the fraction of a breath afterward, I almost taste surprise.
No one in my world dares to strike me. I catch her wrist as it comes back, fingers closing around bone and tendon.
She backs against the wall. Ragged breaths leave her and I watch the quick flare of something in her eyes that isn’t only anger.
“You hate me for the truth,” I say, my voice low. “But you still want me. Even now. You can’t deny what we have between us.”
Her answer is a surrender. “I hate that you’re right,” she whispers. It comes out raw, ragged, honest in a way that twists something inside me open.
I close the distance between us. I don’t kiss her to soothe; I kiss her to take. My mouth finds hers hard and fast, not asking permission. She struggles, the small, furious resistance that says no and means maybe, and it sets fire under my skin.
Her fingers dig into my shirt, into my hair, as though tearing at me will change the truth between us.
I tilt her head back until I can see the pulse of her throat.
One hand slides under the edge of her sweater, fingers warm against skin; the other holds her where she is. She arches into me with a low moan.
The wall is cold against her spine; my body is everything else. There are no soft words here, no promises. Just the raw friction of anger and want crossed so tightly they’re indistinguishable in this moment of truth.
“Say it,” I demand between bruising kisses. “Say you want me.”
She shakes her head, gasping, but her body betrays her when I drag my hand up her thigh and she arches into me with a broken sound. My mouth finds her neck, biting hard enough to mark, and her protest shatters on a gasp that turns into my name.
“Enzo—”
That’s all I need.
Her lips on my name is a match to tinder. I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing any protest she might make, but there’s none to hear. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer.
I slide my hands under her thighs and lift her against the wall.
Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist, and I grind against her, letting her feel my hard cock.
"See what you do to me?" I growl against her neck, my voice rough with want.
"You're all I can think about. Every fucking hour.
You have no idea of the lengths I will go to keep you safe, to keep you here. "
A sharp gasp escapes her lips, her head falling back against the cool stone. My mouth leaves hers to attack the exposed column of her throat with teeth and tongue, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down to the hollow of her collarbone.
The wall isn't enough. I need her beneath me, need to see her body splayed out and wanting. I pick her up and carry her through the cottage, her body pressed tight against mine. When I reach the bedroom, I set her down on the mattress and follow.
My hands are everywhere at once, pushing her sweater up and over her head, making quick work of her bra.
When her breasts are bare to me, I take one peaked nipple into my mouth, sucking hard while my hand kneads the other.
She arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me to her.
Her whole body is trembling, a low hum of pleasure vibrating through her.
"Enzo," she whispers, her voice a desperate plea.
I move to the other breast, biting gently before soothing with my tongue.
She's making those little sounds that drive me insane—half gasps, half moans that tell me she's already lost in sensation.
I trail hot kisses down her stomach, the line of her muscles taut beneath my lips, while my hands work at her jeans, pulling them and her underwear down in one swift motion.
She’s naked beneath me now, flushed and panting, and the sight of her steals what little restraint I have left. I spread her legs wide and settle between them, my hands gripping her thighs to hold her still. The first touch of my tongue against her makes her cry out, her hips bucking off the bed.
"Don't stop," she begs, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Please, don't stop."
I hold her down, taking my time, tasting every inch of her until she's writhing beneath me.
When I slide two fingers inside her while my mouth works her clit, she comes apart completely, her back arching off the bed as she calls my name.
Her climax is a shuddering, breathless thing, and I watch her face, flushed with release.
I don’t give her time to recover. While she's still trembling from her climax, I strip off my remaining clothes and position myself over her. She reaches for me with desperate hands, pulling my mouth back to hers in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and raw need.
When she breaks the kiss to trail her lips down my chest, I let her push me onto my back.
Her mouth is everywhere—my neck, my chest, lower.
The feel of her hot breath on my skin makes me shiver, and her hands, still shaky from her release, trace the line of my abs.
I watch her from beneath heavy lids, the desire to dominate her warring with the need to give her what she wants.
She pushes me back, her hands on my chest, and I allow it, letting her take control.
She trails her tongue down the center of my stomach, leaving a path of fire in its wake.
When her lips finally settle around the head of my cock, a guttural groan rips from my throat.
She’s using her lips and tongue in ways that have me fisting my hands in the sheets to keep from losing control.
She licks the underside, then drags her tongue up the sensitive seam, making me bite my lip to keep from crying out.
She takes more of me into her mouth, her hands gripping my thighs, her fingers digging in with a desperate strength.
She works me with a steady rhythm, her throat a sheath of pure heat, and I can't breathe, can’t think, can only feel.
She licks her way back up the length of me, then back down, her tongue swirling around the head, her hands on me, stroking me, pulling at me.
I feel the thrum of her teeth gently nipping, and then the feel of her lips pulling and tugging, and I'm a goddamn mess, my vision blurring with a haze of pure sensation.
She teases me, pulling back just as I'm about to lose it, then takes me deeper, her tongue spiraling, her throat clenching around me.
The thought of her, giving me this… it’s too much. The heat building in my belly becomes a roaring furnace, and I know I can't hold on much longer. "I'm going to lose my mind," I gasp. "You're going to break me."
Just as I'm about to come undone, I pull her up and flip her beneath me again. I need to be inside her, need to claim her completely. I position myself at her entrance and drive into her in one smooth stroke. She’s tight and wet and perfect, and the feeling of being surrounded by her heat nearly sends me over the edge.
I set a punishing pace, driving into her again and again while she meets every thrust. Her nails rake down my back, leaving marks I'll carry for days.
The bed creaks beneath us, the mattress hitting the wall with each movement, but neither of us cares about anything beyond this moment.
She comes first, her body clenching around me as she cries out.
The feeling of her climax triggers my own, and I bury myself deep inside her, her name torn from my throat.
I collapse beside her, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat.
She turns into me immediately, her body seeking mine even in exhaustion.
I pull her close, my hand stroking down her spine as our heartbeats slowly return to normal.
The cottage is quiet around us except for the sound of our breathing.
When she finally lifts her head to look at me, her eyes are soft and satisfied, though I can see all of her questions still.
"Why?" She asks, the word comes out as barely a whisper. “Why all the lies? Why did you do all those things?”
That's the question I've been avoiding, even to myself.
Why go to such elaborate lengths to keep one naive American woman in my territory? Why risk exposure, waste resources, complicate my carefully ordered life for someone who should have been a temporary amusement?
"Because you interested me," I say finally. "Because you walked into this broken house and laughed with joy instead of running away in horror. Because you offer coffee to dangerous men and think tourism can save a village that doesn't want to be saved."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can see her mind working through possibilities, calculating risks.
"What happens now?" she asks.
"That depends on you. On whether you can accept the truth about who I am and what this relationship actually is."
"And if I can't?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us wants to examine too closely.
"Then we'll need to explore other arrangements."
"Such as?"
I don't answer immediately. The truth is, I'm not entirely certain what those other arrangements would be.
"Such as ensuring your continued discretion about what you've learned regarding my business operations."
"By threatening me?"
"By helping you understand the consequences of certain choices."
"How much of it was real?" she asks quietly.
"Some of it. Your feelings were real. Your choices, within the parameters I established, were real. Your work on the tourism project has genuine merit. You have good ideas."
"But the foundation of our relationship was all lies."
"The foundation was all necessity."
"Whose necessity?"
"Mine."
"I need more time to think this through," she says finally. “This is a lot to handle.”
"You have until morning. Dangerous decisions can’t be left to linger long."
"To decide what?"
"Whether you can accept the reality of who I am and what I do. Whether you can live with the knowledge you now possess. Whether you trust me enough to believe I would never allow anything to happen to you. I will always keep you safe here."
"And if my answer is no?"
"Then we'll discuss alternatives."
"What kind of alternatives?"
I lean down to kiss her forehead, feeling her go very still. “The kind where you disappear from Monte Vento and never speak of what you've learned here."
"Or?"
"Or you stay, and we continue what we started, but with complete honesty between us. About who I am. What I do. What it means to be connected to someone like me."
She pulls away from my touch, but not quickly. "I can't think straight with you naked in my bed," she says. “I need time.”
"Then I'll go." I slip out of bed and dress quickly. "Madison?" I say, as I head out.
"What?"
"Whatever you decide, know that keeping you here was never about the debt. The debt was just an excuse for keeping something I didn't want to lose."