Chapter 15 #2
He leaned back against the sofa, his gaze narrowed on the pendant. “Are you feeling all right, Gemma?”
I blinked, the skepticism in his voice snapping me back to the present. “Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
Suspicion still danced in his green depths. “Honestly, I expected to be attacked. I told you we’re not seeing your father, then I gave you a GPS necklace, and you have nothing to say?”
I had no idea how to play this game. How could I fool the man if he caught onto the smallest detail?
Tears pricked my eyes. Freedom felt so far away, my father did, too.
Here I resided in Italy, in my father’s town, but they prevented me from visiting him.
I peered up at the ceiling, not bothering to wipe at the falling tears.
“Like you said, I have to understand my place… and accept it.”
His pained eyes trained on mine, and he visibly swallowed, his hand reaching for me.
I quailed away, standing up and pacing. “Can I have a minute? I’ll go with you wherever you want, but please, just give me a minute.” A minute to compose… and convince myself for the thousandth time that deceiving him was my only way out.
With a curt nod, he stood and left me alone.
God, give me strength . I had to do this, even though it felt so wrong. If I ever wanted to see my father or family again, I would have to go through with this.
An hour later, I unbuckled my seatbelt, hoping Enzo would finally unveil today’s agenda as we parked in front of... an animal center? His chill posture disclosed nothing. Once outside, he draped a hand on my back, and the heat made me ever aware of his presence.
He led me inside, and the staff greeted him by name. I gave the staff members a polite smile and leaned closer to Enzo. “How do they all know you so well?”
He shrugged and logged into an electronic pad at the desk. “I drop off a few strays whenever I’m in Messina.”
Enzo? The same man who put a gun to my father’s head saved animals and transported them to a shelter. “Why?”
He paused, not once blinking, then said, very directly, “I hate seeing anything abandoned.”
He placed a pass around my neck, and we accessed a door into a back room smelling faintly of antiseptic and warm milk.
On a steel table sat a low-sided box lined with blankets, where a tangle of small, tan puppies slept.
They were sleek and fine-boned, with disproportionately large ears folded against their heads.
Cirnechi , the ancient hounds native to Sicily.
“Ciao, Enzo.” A man in faded work clothes stood beside the table. He carefully scooped up one of the pups, cradling its slender body. “These are the latest to come in.” He nodded toward a counter holding supplies. “Go grab a bottle to get started.”
Enzo handed me one milk bottle, so at-home in this place one would assume he owned the shelter.
“You volunteer here.” Not a question, a statement.
“I have no free time for volunteer work. Since they’re acquainted with me here, I asked for a favor.
” He carefully collected one little Cirneco puppy, its coat the colour of sunbaked earth, fine and sleek over surprisingly sturdy limbs.
He placed the delicate, warm creature in the crook of my arm.
“I figured what better way to help you than by interacting with them in their most vulnerable stage.”
The puppy whimpered in my embrace, its large, triangular ears twitching nervously, more afraid of me than I was of it. I cuddled the small animal, feeling the fragile flutter of its ribs, and helped its pointed muzzle latch onto the bottle.
His lips twitched as he grappled with his own squirmy puppy. “I used to play with a pup just like this as a child.” At last he managed to give the puppy the bottle.
“Did you have one growing up?” No thanks to his cocky attitude and steel exterior, I struggled to imagine him as an innocent child.
“No, I wish. Lucio and I cared for one owned by the orphanage.” He froze as if he disclosed a secret and offered a tight-lipped smile.
Orphanage? Had he grown up next to one? Laughter hummed in my throat.
He almost dropped the bottle, thanks to the rowdy pup in his hands.
“What is up with yours? He’s so hyper.”
He chuckled.
The soft sound burst through my gut like confetti.
Before today, I’d never derived pleasure from another’s humor.
I’d also never witnessed Enzo laugh, at least not in a genuine, delightful way.
He differed in this setting. The distance from the villa, or his mother, might be the reason.
Right here, right now, stood a man I liked, a man possible to befriend.
The mobster I painted him out to be was fading, replaced by someone more complex, more surprising.
Fascinating even. A driven businessman, loyal to his family, and a soft spot for animals.
Not to mention the way those green flames devoured me sent a shiver through my limbs.
Earth to Gemma! I blinked as reality hit, dwindling the good vibes.
How could I have forgotten he wasn’t into me.
This trip had an ulterior motive. His dirty tricks slipped my mind.
This little outing didn’t attest he cared for my anxiety over dogs.
He worked hard at his goal. The joyous glimmer I basked in seconds ago now dissipated.
Despite Enzo’s sweet portrayal, I mustn’t forget his initial goal.