5. Enzo
ENZO
I don’t sleep.
Only one woman has ever kept me awake until now, and that’s Demi.
Nyx was good.
I went to the club with zero expectations and came away with the niggling sensation that she’d planted a fantasy in my head, one that I would never have considered before.
Or maybe the club has installed some kind of brainwashing device inside the leather masks, or there’s something in the air inside those rooms.
Sure, I wanted to touch her. Her voice, her proximity, the palpable darkness, knowing that she was naked and I couldn’t have her… all these things were sexy as fuck. I was still rock hard when I walked out of there.
But when she asked me what I would do to her, it unlocked something inside me that scares me half to death.
I wanted her to fear me and desire me in equal measures.
I wanted her to look over her shoulder when she left the building, scanning the shadows for a glimpse of movement while secretly praying that I would drag her into a dark alleyway and fuck her till she forgot which way was up.
Was that what she set out to do?
Is it what they get taught in their briefings before they get offered the job, how to dig deep and reveal the fantasies their clients don’t even know about?
Because, if so, it worked like a fucking dream.
I sit up on the couch—I spent the night here rather than in one of the guest rooms because I knew I wouldn’t rest—and my erection hasn’t gone anywhere.
I don’t even know who she is. I have no clue what she looks like. But in my head, I’ve manifested her into the only woman who can give me what I want, what I need, even though subconsciously I understand that this is because she’s off limits.
Untouchable.
Forbidden.
They have the signed NDA as evidence to hold against me.
The fantasy will only last until I fuck her, then it’ll be gone. Never to be repeated. Nyx will become the name of a woman I once knew, and I’ll be left with the same gaping hole in my chest that only Demi can fill.
I reach for the almost-empty brandy decanter, fill the bottom of the amber-stained glass, and knock it back in one go.
“It’s a bit early even for you, Enzo.”
I glance around to find Bianca watching me from behind the breakfast bar. She’s wearing one of my cotton shirts, open at the collar.
“I don’t seem to recall it ever stopping you.” It’s a low blow, and I would try to soften my words if I could stand up without revealing the tent inside my boxers.
Bianca’s marriage to Mario D’Angelo was arranged by our parents.
It was advantageous to both Sicilian families, a good match that would encourage stability and secure the truce that had been set in motion by our grandfathers on both sides.
As the only daughter of a mafia don, she’d known that was her lot from a young age.
We all thought she’d accept it, would make the best of it, provide her husband with an heir to his legacy, hold his hand and smile at social gatherings, and do nothing to disrespect either family.
In return, all Mario had to do was treat his wife, the mother of his children, with the respect she deserved.
And he couldn’t even do that. Because men like Mario D’Angelo respect money and power instead of women.
They think with their dicks and their fists and expect others to turn a blind eye because of their surname.
If Gio hadn’t killed him for selling our sister to the bratva, someone else would have.
So, I don’t blame Bianca for turning to alcohol. Mario was an animal. He was a violent husband, an absent father, and he allowed greed to cloud his judgement.
It would’ve been enough to tip most people over the edge.
But most people wouldn’t have sabotaged their own parents to inherit the family business.
The car crash, the one that claimed the lives of our mother and father and Gio’s childhood sweetheart, his fiancée at the time, would’ve killed my brother too if he hadn’t canceled his flight to Sicily at the last-minute.
It probably would’ve only been a matter of time before Bianca came after me too.
Still, I’m not a complete fucking asshole and I can see the sadness behind her eyes. When Gio delivered her ultimatum, he also took her children away from her; Sofia and Leo have been living in the family residence in Sicily ever since, with no contact from their mom.
Bianca switches on the coffee machine. The bruises on her face are darker this morning, mottled black and purple; one eye is still shut, the skin underneath shiny and stretched taut beneath the Steri-strips I applied last night.
She looks like she accidentally wandered into a boxing ring without the referee noticing.
“Does Gio know I’m here?” She leans back against the counter, her arms wrapped around her chest while she waits for coffee.
“Not unless you were delirious in the night and told him you were back.”
My glass is empty. My erection is shrinking. I’ve got an entire day to get through before I can even think about going back to JADED.
Bianca almost smiles, but her swollen mouth doesn’t quite make it happen. “Thank you, Enzo.”
“For what?” From where I’m sitting, the list is growing.
“You sound like our father.” She sets two cups on the counter and fills them both with steaming black coffee. “He always wanted us to understand what we’d done wrong and what we were apologizing for.”
I shrug. “I was the baby of the family. I never did anything wrong.”
“That’s what everyone let you believe, Enzo.”
Bianca carries the cups to the coffee table and sits down on the couch facing me.
Her actions are sluggish, like those of a woman whose bones have grown brittle with old age rather than someone in her late thirties.
I have a mental image of her thoroughly wearing her body out by the time she’s forty if she continues this way.
Maybe that’s the plan. Maybe she feels like she has nothing left to live for.
I don’t want that responsibility on my shoulders.
“I’ll find out who did this to you.” I sip my coffee.
“And then what?”
“Then, I’ll let them know that they don’t mess with the Sabatellis and live to talk about it.”
“They didn’t mess with the Sabatellis.” Her swollen lips barely move when she speaks. “I still have my husband’s name, remember. And our brother made it quite clear that I’m no longer part of the family.”
This is what my sister does: she argues every fucking point until she wears you down and then plays the victim. It’s her own peculiar version of gaslighting, and she’s had years of practice.
“Fine. I’ll show them what happens to men who disrespect women.”
She fixes me with a stare from her good eye. “How very noble. Is that why Demi left you. because you think you’re better than every other fucker out there?”
My fingers tense around my coffee cup. “What do you know about Demi?”
She shrugs, giving me a brief glimpse of the graceful woman she was before she got broken by the brute she married. “There’s nothing of hers in your room or your ensuite. She’s either been gone for a while or you dumped her stuff when she walked out.”
My sister is a walking fucking disaster who gets a thrill out of biting the hand that picks her up when she’s down, almost as if she wants to hit rock bottom so that she can blame everyone else for her problems. One day, she’ll push a little too hard and there will be no one left to dry her tears.
But that isn’t what’s bugging me. She can chip away at me all she likes, but it’s the way she spoke about Demi as if she has insider information on what went on between us.
“Why do you care?”
“You’re my baby brother. Despite what Gio thinks of me, I’ve always looked out for you, Enzo. I just want you to be happy.”
I understand it’s difficult for her to express any emotion with her face all disfigured, but it’s the lack of any kind of empathy or feeling in her voice that hardens something inside me. I don’t believe her. Only I don’t know where that leaves me.
“How long will you be staying?” I ask.
She’s been here for less than twelve hours and is already doing her fucking best to make herself unwelcome.
“Until you kick me out, I guess.”
I sit through a dull meeting in Gio’s boardroom later in the day.
It requires zero input from me, and I’m jolted back into the room several times when my name captures my attention.
Each time, I’m lost in a reverie of Nyx naked on my lap while I stroke her hair and whisper in her ear, “My special baby. You know you’re mine now. ”
Fuck! They should rename JADED as MIND GAMES. I might drop it into the suggestion box tonight, maybe earn myself a free visit, or at the very least a glimpse of Nyx in the darkness, just so I know she isn’t a hologram and a voice recording.
I realize what a sucker this makes me. Nyx loaded the bait, promised to make my wildest fantasies come true when what she was really doing was tapping into my dark side, and I swallowed it whole. I bought that baby like it was a lighthouse in the middle of the stormy ocean.
“Are you really that desperate?” The question comes out of nowhere.
“I must be.” It’s a sobering thought. I’m not the person I was before I met Demi, and I’m not sure I even recognize myself anymore.
“Enzo?” Gio’s eyes are narrowed in my direction.
The faces come into focus around the polished table reflecting glasses of iced water, and they’re all staring at me as if I just announced my intention to fuck off the no-touch rule and fuck Nyx till she can’t remember her name.
No. If I’d said that, half of these men would be smiling so broadly I’d be able to see their gold molars.
Gio blinks, his expression returning to neutral. “Time to wrap up, gents.”