Chapter 11
That evening, I’m in my ugliest pajamas. Netflix plays a show I’ve already rewatched twelve times, steam curls off the mug in my hands, and my phone is turned off because Enzo won’t stop blowing it up.
He’s my soon-to-be ex-boss, and he doesn’t have the right to call me after work hours. Whatever demon climbed into his spine today isn’t my problem. I’m not his keeper. I’m not his emotional punching bag. I’m done being the idiot who tries to decode his moods.
Veronica—poor thing—will probably get stuck in the fallout tomorrow. She deserves a raise just for surviving the man. He wasn’t this unhinged when I used to work for him.
My craving for sugar starts to gnaw at me. Unfortunately, the version of me who shops for groceries is a smug, health-conscious witch, and she buys things like oat crackers and probiotic yogurts.
Useless.
I bite the inside of my cheek, weighing my options. I try to pretend I can resist… but I’m not that strong. With a groan, I pause my show, slide into outdoor slippers, and step into the hallway. My building is far too elegant for me to be seen like this.
I pray the elevator is empty.
And by some miracle, it is.
God gives his hardest battles to his prettiest soldiers.
Outside, the night air chills me instantly. I tug my sweater closer, stuffing my hands into the sleeves. Autumn is creeping in—my favorite season. Everything dies beautifully.
I cross the street to the supermarket, keys jingling in my hand. I roam the aisles, scanning shelves for my favorite chocolates, squinting because I was too lazy to bring my glasses.
I take this search personally. This is a quest.
I’m so focused on the blurry labels that I slam into a hard chest.
I jerk back. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”
When my eyes finally decide to cooperate, I realize it’s Luke from the bar.
He looks amused. “Mila?”
“Oh my God. Hi. Sorry—I didn’t see you there. I’m blind right now. Forgot my glasses.”
He glances down at my pajamas, then grins. “Late-night mission?”
I lift my basket of snacks. “You?”
“I live nearby,” he says. “I come here when I can’t sleep.”
I nod. This is a nice coincidence. Luke isn’t bad to have around—he’s fun, easygoing, and I don’t exactly have a long list of friends.
He nods toward the shelf behind me. “Anything good left?”
“Depends on your standards,” I say. “Mine are on the floor tonight.”
“Want help? I’ve memorized half this place.”
“Sure.”
“What are we hunting?”
“Dark chocolate. The one with the gold wrapper. People hoard it.”
He spots it instantly, tucked behind another brand. I’ll always envy people with good vision. He hands me two. “Just in case someone raids the shelf tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Listen, I’m heading back to put on a movie. Nothing fancy. You can join if you want company.” He tilts his head. “You, Netflix, and—”
He pauses just long enough to smirk.
“—chill?”
I shove his shoulder. “Luke, absolutely not.”
My once-roaring libido is currently dead on the floor.
“Relax. I meant literally watching something. My jokes are trash, but my intentions are clean. Promise.”
“Sure,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Totally.”
“To be fair, the joke set itself up,” he says. “But seriously—if you’re bored, you’re welcome.”
I open my mouth to decline. My life is messy enough. But I could use a normal night, and for some reason, Enzo is still lodged in every corner of my head.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He grins. “See? My charm works.”
“It’s the snacks,” I deadpan. “I’m here for the snacks.”
“Then help me pick ice cream so I don’t choose something embarrassing like mint chocolate.” He pretends to gag.
“At this hour, everything we pick is embarrassing.”
We walk down the aisle together, his shoulder brushing mine. Even with Luke beside me, Enzo lingers in the back of my mind.
Fuck you, Enzo Morelli.
At checkout, I finally decide.
“I think my apartment’s closer,” I say. “We can watch a movie there. Just a movie.”
Luke nods. “Sounds good.”
I barely know this man, and I’m inviting him into my home. I won’t pretend I’ve never had one-night stands—but never in my place. Still, he feels safe.
Hopefully, a future headline doesn’t prove me wrong.
We step into the elevator. I hit my floor, and we’re pressed together in the quiet hum of rising metal.
“Remember the nachos at the bar?” he asks.
I snort. “How could I forget? You spilled cheese everywhere and blamed me.”
“I was distracted by your intense nacho-eating skills.”
I was eating like a feral animal. I laugh so hard I cover my mouth. The elevator dings, and we step onto my floor. I’m fumbling for my keys when a homicidal aura hits my back.
I turn to find Enzo standing outside my door.
Luke frowns. “Friend of yours?”
Enzo’s gaze isn’t just angry. It’s everything—possessive, dark, unhinged. I’m trapped between two worlds: the light, fragile one I just built with Luke, and the black gravity of Enzo.
One second he’s a statue of fury.
The next, he’s charging.
“Enzo—NO!”
It’s the first time I slip and say his name. I throw myself between them, palms slamming into both chests. The impact knocks the air from my lungs.
“STOP!”
The scream echoes down the hallway. Luke blinks. Enzo doesn’t.
He’s… gone.
His eyes are dead. Hollow.
Dead-eyed rage.
“Tell him to leave, Mila.”
Luke scoffs. “She can make her own decisions.”
“Luke—” I inhale shakily. “I’m sorry. Maybe… another time.”
He nods, thank God. Then he presses a kiss to my cheek, meeting Morelli’s gaze as he does.
Suicidal.
Enzo goes rigid behind me. I grab his forearms to keep him from lunging. Luke walks away smiling as the elevator doors swallow him.
I turn, barely breathing.
“Who the hell is that?”
Everything spills at once.
“It’s none of your business,” I scream. “You’re just my ex-boss.”
He doesn’t speak. Hunger and self-loathing war in his eyes.
He hates himself for wanting me.
“Do you want me?” I push.
Nothing.
I swallow and ask the question that will end this.
“Do you love me?”
Silence.
There’s my answer.
I slam the elevator button. “Then why are you here? To erase the kiss? To make sure your mistake is forgotten? It’s forgotten. Do the same.”
The doors open. I shove him inside. He doesn’t resist.
Before they close, he growls, “If I ever see him near you again, I’ll kill him.”
“If you don’t want me,” I hiss, “there are men who do. You don’t get to stop me. Goodbye, Mr. Morelli.”
The doors slide shut.
“Don’t come back,” I whisper.
Goodbye, Enzo Morelli.