Chapter Forty-Six Enzo #2
“My favorite verse is this—Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Psalm 23. Very poetic,” I murmured, hearing the pop of his lower jawbone disconnecting from the rest of his skull.
His mouth hung loose. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I mainly love it because of ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ by Coolio.
Alas, we all need a reminder that God is with us in hard times.
I think this moment falls into that category for you, Rasputin. ”
His senses were clouded at this point, the loss of blood and the pain too great for him not to slip in and out of consciousness.
I retrieved the knife and carved out a little message to whoever was going to find him.
The word traitor across his stomach. I dug deep, too, so that he’d have to be buried with that message etched into his skin.
Two hours or so after I’d started torturing him, his lungs gave out and he hissed one final exhale.
A tiny ribbon of condensation, so thin it extinguished like a cigarette in a puddle.
He was so bloodied and beaten by this point, it’d take days to recognize him.
If whatever wildlife lurked here didn’t devour him before he was found.
“I wish I could flay you.” I stood from his body, unzipping my slacks and whipping out my dick, guiding it toward his face’s general direction. “You’d have made a wonderful coat, you cunt.”
I pissed on the raw, exposed flesh, spat in his face, turned around, and walked away.
It was six in the morning by the time I returned to my apartment. I smelled like blood, sweat, and the great outdoors, and believe it or not, I didn’t look my best. I still looked a trillion times better than most people—obviously—just not Enzo Ferrante god-tier glorious.
I couldn’t wait to drag my ass into the shower, wash off all of Slava’s grime, and sleep until the late afternoon. Everything else could wait; the Bratva could be dealt with tomorrow.
In the elevator on my way up to my place, I checked my Instagram.
My last post had gotten a record of 62k likes.
Most of them weren’t even from my followers.
I guess people were excited about my embracing my true self.
I was excited, too, even if my psoriasis was worse than ever and I still suffered through frequent bouts of anxiety and self-doubt.
The elevator dinged open, and I stepped out of it.
I froze.
Sitting against my door, on the floor, was Tom Rothwell, dressed in a sharp suit, his hair in delicious disarray.
Was I…dead? Because Tom looked like an angel in that moment.
Fuck, if I was dead, and ended up in heaven, someone was going to lose their job. Several someones, most likely. God was gonna be way pissed. Unless, of course, this was a reward for killing that cunt, Slava, and sparing the world of his wrath.
Tom’s gaze darted up from his phone, and he scrambled to his feet, not unlike a schoolboy caught doing something naughty. I forced myself to stand still, from fear I’d hurt him if I threw myself at him. My bodily reaction to him frightened me. It was visceral and potent, like an electric shock.
And there was something else. Suddenly, I felt almost…shy.
Yeah. I know. Me. Shy. Unheard of. But he’d given up so much for me, I didn’t think they’d yet invented the appropriate words for me to thank him.
Neither of us spoke, but something needed to be said, and besides, I’d do anything to hear his beautiful voice. So I snorted. “Agent Asshole? Really?”
He tried to smile, but couldn’t quite get there. The corners of his lips never lifted fully into a grin. “You followed me back.”
“Duh. I’d follow you anywhere.” I glanced at my boots, caked with mud, feeling my cheeks warming up. “You know that. I’m a pest. You said so yourself.”
He shook his head. “You were never a pest.”
“Then what?” My heart beat so hard in my chest that I couldn’t draw a proper breath. And I was shaking, I realized, every part of me trembling with yearning and longing for something that was right in front of me, and yet felt strangely far away.
“Everything,” he said quietly.
“Everything?”
“Yes, Enzo, you’re everything.”
“You said you loved me.” I cleared my throat. “Did you mean it?”
He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Yes.”
“When did you fall in love with me?”
He shook his head. “Not now. Not here.”
I decided not to push him. The moment felt so fragile, like it was made out of glass and could break at any second.
I licked my lips, staring at my boots. “I…I did what had to be done.”
For you, I wanted to add.
I would do anything for you.
But I couldn’t quite utter the words.
Another failed launch of a smile. This time, it looked like he was grimacing. Wow. He really was bad at this, unless I was there to make him laugh. “I didn’t have a doubt.”
“How do I thank you?” I rasped.
“You live, you thrive, you wake up every morning proud to be who you are, because Enzo, there’s so fucking much to be proud of,” he answered.
“And…maybe, with time, you forgive me. This is the best thank-you I could think of. I made a mistake. I thought I could protect both my career and you, so I offered you the deal. But in my heart, I knew you’d never take it.
That’s not who you are, and that is exactly why I fell for you.
Your integrity, your kindness, your loyalty.
The way you treat people you love says a lot about you.
And Enzo, to be loved by you is the greatest honor anyone could have. ”
I hung my head low, closing my eyes and letting the words sink into me.
“But I want you to know—from the moment you came to see me on the anniversary of Matt’s death, I knew I’d burn Slava and kill the operation to save you.
There was never any doubt in my mind that I’d destroy my life to save yours.
But I had to keep everything under wraps.
For this to work, I couldn’t afford leaks.
I knew you’d see it as betrayal, but I still cared more about your well-being than about our relationship. ”
“I forgive you,” I said. “Of course I forgive you, Tom. You’re my first love.”
“First?” He looked crushed.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’d rather be the last.” He licked his lips. “I could settle for only, too. But not first. First means there will be a second. And I don’t want that, Butterfly.”
I didn’t want that either. There was nothing I wanted more than to be with him. Wake up beside him, go to bed next to him, and spend all the hours in between either with him or knowing that wherever he was in the world, he belonged to me.
But it wasn’t that simple. I had become acutely aware of my issues in recent weeks.
My PTSD from growing up in a ragingly oppressive environment, my abusive father, my repressed sexuality, and, yes, despite the fact I loved working for my family, there was some trauma there, too.
Being with Tom a second after coming out, without a chance to process everything that had happened, between us and in the last twenty-six years of my life, was a recipe for failure.
And this thing between us? I couldn’t allow it to fail.
I didn’t have all of myself to offer him, not yet, and I didn’t want him settling for scraps again. He’d done it before, and look where it got both him and Matt.
I cared too much about us to screw this up.
“Tom…” I said, but didn’t add anything to it. My throat was too tight with the ball of confessions that twisted inside it.
He closed his eyes, physically bracing himself. “Why does it feel like goodbye, Enzo?”
Because it is.
“I need a second to catch my breath before I can give you everything,” I said.
“I’ve spent my entire existence feeling unincluded in my own life, holding my breath, worried that people would find out who I am and sever all ties with me.
I denied myself happiness and agency as currency for my family’s acceptance.
And I grew up with a father who made sure to let me know I was a mistake he would love to undo.
This all resulted in a lot of fucked-up shit.
” I swallowed hard. “The psoriasis. The cutting. The PTSD. It wasn’t until we got together that I realized something was wrong with me.
But when I came to you that night…when you told me to go away, and we had sex for the first time…
” My bottom lip wobbled, the memory startlingly painful, like a blade piercing my skin.
“I saw myself in you, and it scared me. The loss of control. The depravity that takes over. The black hole you got sucked into, and no one and nothing could pull you out of. I need to work on myself.” I sucked in a breath. “Alone.”
The silence sat between us, heavier with each passing moment.
“I understand,” he said quietly.
“Y-you do?”
“I do. But I need to know…is this goodbye for now, or is this goodbye forever?”
“For now.” A shot of terror impaled my chest. I nearly lost my courage to do this. I couldn’t think of a world without Tom in it. If he wasn’t willing to wait, then I could heal while we were together if I had to.
But I didn’t have to.