Serena
There was a small boat on the dock.
Helping me onto the boat, Enzo sat me on the small bench next to him and started the boat.
We pulled out into the water, and I tried not to freak out. I was going on a date with Enzo Lombardi.
The guy I’d had a crush on for the past year. A man I never thought I stood a chance with had somehow managed to get me on a date with him.
He didn’t have to try very hard to convince me. Harper was with Martina and Minnie, who waved to me in the background when I had a two-second conversation with Harper, doing whatever they had planned.
Work was a lame excuse. Plus, I already told him I had finished my work for the week.
And if I was honest with myself, I wanted to go on a date with him. I wanted to be wined and dined by Enzo Lombardi.
I wanted Lorenzo Lombardi, and I was finally going to allow myself to believe I could have exactly what I wanted.
If only I had time to prepare. I’d imagined what it might be like to go on a date with him, but in those daydreams, I was wearing a sexy dress. My hair was curled and perfectly styled, skin was glowing, and my makeup had never looked better.
Instead, I was on a boat in cutoff jeans, a faded grey tank top, hair that desperately needed washing, and fresh work sweat.
I couldn’t focus on any of that. Instead, I closed my eyes and reminded myself to live in the moment. How many women got to say they went on a date with their crush? One who liked me in the same way I liked him.
We went out into the ocean. With every bounce of the small boat, my stomach flipped—from the waves or from him, I wasn’t sure. My hair pulled out of my ponytail, flying behind me in the wind.
Where were we going? After a few minutes at high speed, Enzo slowed down the boat, allowing it to glide to a stop next to the biggest boat I’d ever seen.
“Whoa,” I whispered.
A massive, shiny black boat floated in the middle of the ocean. The closer we got, the more details came into focus.
It wasn’t a boat, but a yacht. Sleek, polished, gold accents reflected from the sun, giving it a luxurious glow.
Enzo slowed the tiny skip boat and guided us around to the back.
A man in a formal black-and-white suit came to the landing, caught the rope Enzo threw to him, and wrapped it around a loop.
“Come.” Enzo held out a hand and helped me out.
He grabbed my hand, placing one foot on the small platform attached to the boat, and kept the other on the slip we had arrived at. He helped me onto the platform and joined me.
My legs shook as I tried to find a way to stand on the yacht.
The boat rocked hard. I threw my hands out, trying to keep my balance and not fall into the ocean and embarrass myself.
Enzo grabbed my waist and hauled me off the small landing and onto the boat in one swift move, so fast it took me a moment to realize what had happened.
Another man dressed in an identical suit to the first stood in the center of the floor and bowed. “Welcome to Omerta,” he said with a thick Italian accent.
“It means code of silence,” Enzo whispered in my ear, so close his lips brushed the sensitive skin below my ear. Tingles ran down my spine.
I started to examine the area, trying to find something to distract myself with other than how Enzo was still holding me. If I didn’t, I was going to focus too hard and say something stupid.
White leather couches lined the outer perimeter; light wood accented the area. Further to the back was a fully stocked bar with another man behind it.
“This is yours?” I asked, spinning on my heels to get a better view. There was more to the boat than I could see from where I stood, but it was big.
“Yes. I had it custom-made about two years ago.” Enzo tugged my hand. “Come. We still have plenty of daylight to enjoy the boat before we need to get ready for dinner.”
I swiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Maybe if I could sneak off to the bathroom, I could try to look presentable. Like I belonged on this yacht with a man in a suit that cost thousands.
His hand cupped my face. Gazing down at me, a tiny smile transformed his face.
“Thank you for going with this.” He bent down, pressing his lips softly against mine. He brushed the tip of his nose against mine. “Sei la donna più bella del mondo.”
Butterflies took flight in my stomach.
“The only word I understood was bella,” I joked.
“I’ll teach you,” he said, pulling away. “Sí. There she is.” Enzo turned me to face the inside of the boat.
A woman, tall and elegant, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, appeared from somewhere off to the side, holding a small platter with two champagne glasses.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi,” she said with a smile.
I opened my mouth to correct her. As nice as the title sounded, I didn’t want to cast any illusions or dream too big.
“Thank you. Is everything set up?” he asked.
“Yes.” She turned to me. “If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Lombardi, we can start with your massage before dinner.”
Massage? I looked from the woman to Enzo.
“It’s been a stressful few weeks. Go with her and relax. I have some last-minute work to do.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it. “The faster you go, the faster I get to look at you on the hull sunbathing.”
I nodded, the spot where he kissed my hand tingling, and followed the woman.
We walked toward the bar, down a set of steps into a lounge area, then up another set of steps to the front of the boat.
Like the back, it had an open area with lounge chairs near the edge and a white couch on one side.
On the other side sat a massage table, shaded from the sun.
A soft breeze came off the ocean, the quiet broken only by water against the hull and birds overhead.
I closed my eyes, letting calmness wash over me.
When I opened my eyes again, the woman had laid out a robe on the table and stood next to it, hands behind her back, waiting.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, rushing to the table.
“Please, there’s nothing to be sorry for. My name is Lucia. I’ll be your massage therapist for the day, as well as your stewardess for your time here.” She gestured to an enclosed area I hadn’t noticed. “If you follow me, I’ll show you to a changing area where you can disrobe.”
My head was spinning. This was a lot, and I wasn’t sure if the nausea was from nerves or being on the water for the first time.
When I came out wrapped in the small, silky white robe, Lucia had turned the sheets on the table down and stood next to it.
She held out a pill and a glass of water. “Dramamine. Is this your first time on a boat?”
I nodded, thankful this was on hand. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem. If you’ll slide between the sheets, we can start.” She turned her back, giving me privacy as I slid in.
I cleared my throat to let her know she could turn around.
“Mr. Lombardi mentioned you’re a designer and use your hands a lot in sewing. Is there anything else I should know before we begin?” she asked as she situated me.
I shook my head and let her do her thing.
“Bella,” a deep voice whispered in my ear.
I groaned, pushing off the table slightly. Enzo was crouched next to me, smiling.
“How do you feel?” he asked, dragging a thumb across the apple of my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.
“My hands feel brand new.” I pulled the sheet up with me, covering my body.
Enzo’s eyes traveled from my face to my naked shoulders, lingering there. A spark ignited deep in my core at that heat in his eyes.
“Good. We still have an hour or two before dinner. Why don’t you lay out in the sun?” he suggested as he helped me off the table.
“This is a dream,” I said, not meaning to say it out loud.
“It isn’t, but if you let me, I’ll make all your dreams come true.” Enzo scooped me up and carried me up a set of stairs.
We entered another room, this one taking up the entire floor. There was a massive bed against the wall. Windows were open on three sides of the room, a breeze flowing through.
It had a nautical theme, with wood accents throughout the room. A television was on the other side of the room, with a small lounge area.
“Wow.” I gripped the sheet tighter, suddenly aware that I was naked, a bed barely five feet away, and Enzo standing next to it in a suit I had tailored.
He tracked my movements.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s incredible. How big is this thing?”
“Big enough.” Enzo turned and opened the wall next to the windows that gave us a view of the vast Atlantic Ocean.
It was a closet, not a wall, filled with clothes.
For me. “This should be enough for the weekend.” He reached in and pulled out something that had a lot of strings.
“Here is a bathing suit.” He put the smallest bathing suit I’d ever seen on the bed.
“The bathroom is through here.” He pushed another door that looked like a wall. I peered in, noticing the big white bathroom. “Get changed. I’ll be waiting out here for you.”
I grabbed the bathing suit, resigning myself. Whatever I looked like, it was good enough.
The bathroom was bigger than I expected. The shower took up half the room and had no door. The shower head came from the ceiling, a rainfall style that would drench rather than spray.
I made quick work of getting into the bikini, thankful it wasn’t as small as I thought.
It was well-made, covered the necessary bits, and when I turned, I found that it made my butt look good.
Great even. The stretch marks from when I was pregnant with Harper were still there, but I found the sight of them didn’t bother me or make me want to cover myself like they usually did.
Feeling comfortable and confident in my skin for the first time since before I became a mom, I gathered the sheet and left the bathroom.
Enzo was there, having changed from his suit into swim trunks with no shirt on.
“Cazzo, Dio mi sta mettendo alla prova in questo momento,” he said, hanging his head.
“Is this okay?” I looked down at myself, my finger playing with the string that tied my bikini bottom together.
“Yes. Cazzo, yes.” He walked up and gripped my hips. “Let’s go before I try to convince you not to leave this room.”
He led me out of the room and to the front of the boat where there were two beach chairs sat with towels laid out on them.
The sun was still high in the sky, giving us plenty of time to lay out and sunbathe before dinner would be ready. The waves gently lapped against the boat, rocking it. It was quiet and peaceful.
I walked around to one of the chairs. “I can’t remember the last time I laid out like this.”
“You need sunscreen,” Enzo said, holding out a bottle. I reached for it, only for him to pull it out of reach. “Turn around.”
I did. Enzo’s hands rubbed the lotion on my back, fingers slipping under my bikini strings. I needed to focus on something other than his hands all over me.
“I usually use the oil that has sunscreen in it,” I said, trying to break the silence.
“Turn,” Enzo ordered. I did, coming face to face with him. He lathered more on his hands, bringing them down to my shoulders, and rubbing it in, taking his time.
“Oh, I can do it,” I tried, nerves riding me. He was so close, I barely had to lift my hand to touch his picture-worthy abs.
“I need to make sure it’s even. I don’t want you to burn. It will ruin the fun I want to have with you tonight,” he said, his face a mask of concentration as he moved from my shoulders to my chest. A shift of his hands would be all it took for him to cup my breast.
He made quick work of my stomach and legs, getting down on his knee. When he glanced up, catching me staring at him, he winked, dragging a hand up the back of my leg as he stood.
The touch was feather-light, but I still fell into him as he stood up.
“My turn.” He pushed the bottle into my hands. “Do you want to start on my front or back?”
“Back,” I said. I needed a reprieve from having his eyes on me. Somehow, this still felt like a dream I was bound to wake up from.
Enzo turned, finally giving me a closer look at his intricate tattoos.
“How long did it take to get this done?” I asked as I started.
“About six months. It had to be done in phases. The outline first, then the shading. Eight hours in a chair.”
“That’s a lot of time,” I remarked.
He turned, looking down at me. “I’m a patient man when I want something. Six months, a few years,” he shrugged, “means nothing when I know the end goal will be worth it.”
It felt like he was trying to tell me something, but I was too afraid to ask a deeper question to find out what it was.
“Why the devil?” I said, tracing the lines that went from his throat to his chest.
“Because I am the devil to those who cross me. I want them to remember that.”
I nodded, moving on. “And this?” I moved to his chest and shoulders, where the warrior armor was.
“We all have our places in our families. Mine is the protector.” His hands settled on my hips as I continued on my path. My fingers traced the thick lines, the expert shading.
“This is impressive work,” I said as I examined. The artistic part of my brain turned on, admiring the intricate way the lines wove into each other. The way the artist made the armor lifelike.
“Don’t worry, tesoro mio, I’ll let you draw me whenever you want,” he said, jolting me back from my examination.
My face went hot. “Sorry, I was just,” I stepped back, “admiring the work.”
“Admire away. But maybe let’s lie down and relax. We’ve had a taxing few weeks.” He held out a pair sunglasses that were too expensive.
He was right. I had been in survival mode for so long I forgot what it was like to simply be. I glanced at Enzo walking around the open area. The protector. It fit him well.
He made me feel safe. I hadn’t known how unsafe I’d felt until I woke up in his home, with a promise that no one would harm Harper or me.
I was going to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could.
I lay down, warmed my skin, and did my best to turn my brain off as the sea lulled me into sleep.