Chapter 9
Valentina
“What did you want to tell me?” I asked, piling our plates with crispy bacon and scrambled eggs.
“It’s about the business,” he answered. “I don’t want to keep this from you for longer than I have to.”
Setting our plates down on the table, I turned my focus on to pouring out two cups of coffee for us.
Since Enzo had taken such good care of me when I went to his place, I figured I ought to return the favor.
Despite my limited cooking skills, I wanted to make the effort for a special guest. Besides, anything that kept my mind off worry and fear about the shooter still at large was welcome.
I handed him the mug of coffee, this intimate dance of domesticity feeling like we’d been doing this for years.
That made my insides tremble. Should it have been this easy?
Was it normal to have what looked like a morning routine already?
I should have pushed such thoughts away but it made my heart skip a beat.
Imagining a lifetime of this didn’t seem like the nightmare it had seemed when I’d first met Enzo.
If anything, it felt like I could allow myself to look forward to it. Which was crazy.
Now, he was letting me in on news about his father’s business. That just laced the moment with extra meaning. Swallowing hard, I sat down across from him and started eating breakfast.
“What about the business?” I asked, fighting to keep my tone light and casual. While I was hosting him in my home, I definitely wasn’t going to let him see me tremble with anticipation. I wasn’t going to give him anything more than bland curiosity, no matter how significant this moment felt.
“We were attacked last night,” he said.
My mouth fell open. “What?”
“One of my father’s dealerships,” he explained, digging into to his scrambled eggs. “They set the cars on fire.”
“Do you know who?” I paused then, realizing that my family would make it onto a list of likely suspects. “Wait...we didn’t do this.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not accusing you,” he said, grabbing some bacon and taking a bite.
“Was anybody hurt?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Luckily, no.”
“That’s good,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. The last thing any of us needed was more of our people getting hurt. “You should go down there.”
“I can’t leave you alone,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m here to help with security, remember?”
“I have a security system and several doormen that act as guards. Not to mention my chauffeur is part of my security detail,” I told him.
“You can take the morning off to inspect the dealership for yourself. It would look suspicious if you didn’t.
Remember, we don’t want anyone knowing that my father is injured. ”
Enzo paused, taking a second to think that through. “You going to work this morning?”
“I’ll show my face at our legitimate headquarters so I don’t arouse suspicion and then, I’m going to pay Papa a visit. My mom will be there and she needs the support,” I answered.
“Sure you don’t need another bodyguard to come with you?”
I smiled. “Even if I asked you to come with me, only family is allowed to visit.”
“Right. Plus, I’m pretty sure your mother hates me. Doubt she wants to see my face.”
“My mother isn’t that scary,” I said.
“Au contraire,” he said.
I laughed at that. Looked like it wasn’t just my father that Enzo had to fear. My mother did have something of an intimidating energy at times. Something I hoped I had inherited from her. It was always good to make men think twice.
“Anyway, you’re not my bodyguard, you’re my attack dog. Totally different job.” Without thinking, I got up and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Warmth spread from my quivering lips down to my toes. Sparks exploded through me from the brief contact.
Realizing my mistake, I pulled back suddenly, jumping to my feet. “We can meet for lunch later.”
That last sentence was my desperate attempt to pretend that I hadn’t just kissed him with the practiced ease of a happy wife.
What on earth had I been thinking? We didn’t have that kind of relationship.
We’d done blazingly hot but fake kisses and attempted midnight trysts.
We didn’t do displays of affection. Our entire relationship had been one of pent-up desire and me signaling that I didn’t really want him when in reality I really, really did.
I’d been playing mostly aloof and slightly intrigued.
A little hot, a lot of cold. But kissing him like this was blowing on the hotter side of the spectrum. Too hot. Too real.
I spun away from the kitchen table to set my half empty plate on the counter. Then, I was practically sprinting out of the kitchen. Even faster than my early morning run on the treadmill.
I didn’t wait to hear Enzo’s thoughts on me kissing him.
I tore out of there, headed to my car, and sat anxiously through my entire chauffeured ride to the office.
My mind felt all over the place through my big show to making an appearance at the office; half my mind on Papa, the other half on Enzo.
By the time I was done with work for the day and heading for the clinic to check up on my father, I was so stuck in my own head that I almost forgotten to make lunch plans with Enzo. Thankfully, Enzo sent some texts to make arrangements.
After I spent the morning and half the afternoon at Papa’s bedside, I headed downtown to meet Enzo for a late lunch. He’d chosen an upscale steakhouse and we met out front.
I didn’t know how to greet him when I approached, but suddenly, I was enveloped in his arms. The scent of his cologne made me think of sandalwood, cedar trees, bay leaves—forceful, distinctly masculine, and comforting all at once.
Strong, muscular arms held me fast against his hard body.
Desire rippled through me, making me go weak at the knees.
I gazed up at him, on the verge of deciding if I should kiss him. Before I could make a move, the ground started to shake beneath my feet. I gasped, clinging to him for dear life. People around us were screaming and stumbling around in a panic.
Without a word, Enzo lifted me off the ground only to set me back down against his car moments later. I took me a moment to realize that I was pressed up against his car, while he sheltered me with the bulk of his body on the other side.
“What was that?” I asked in shock. “An earthquake?”
“Don’t know,” Enzo responded, refusing to let go.
The sound of police car sirens tore through the clamor of the crowd around us. Police were never welcome in my line of work, but they wouldn’t be focused on me right now.
Most people were staggering, crying out in confusion while others had taken cover behind cars or like we had or braced themselves against building walls.
A frazzled uniformed cop appeared then, pushing through the crowd of people, running in our direction. “Everybody, stay calm. We’ve got things under control.”
“Was that an earthquake?” somebody shouted at the cop.
The cop hesitated, slowing down as he held up his hands to appeal for calm.
People were already whipping out their cell phones.
“Hey, social media says a bomb went off at the U.S. National Bank,” another person yelled.
“What the hell? I was just there,” Enzo said, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through me.
He pulled back to look around, the expression on his face hardening.
His body went rigid, Enzo now alert as a predator.
While everybody was freaking out, he was calm and collected as he glanced around, seemingly scanning the place for more information.
Memories of the car bombing attempt on my father’s life flashed before my eyes. My heart was racing a mile a minute, cold sweat chilling me to the bone. I was paralyzed. Too panicked to move.
I wanted to scream. Cry out loud enough to shake me from my terror. But I was rooted in place, nausea rising. This couldn’t be happening again. Now, along with nearly losing my father, it was Enzo I was in danger of losing. If he had been at that bank for just five more minutes...
Without another word, Enzo was forcing the passenger seat open and pushing me inside. In the blink of an eye, he was settling into the driver’s seat and then, he hit the gas and we were out of there. Tearing through the streets before traffic could form.
“We can’t leave my driver,” I gasped out, craning my head to look at the car’s side mirror in a frantic search for the chauffeur.
“No time,” Enzo barked. “He’s trained. He knows what to do.”
Enzo was maneuvering around cars and down side streets faster than a race car driver. No doubt he had practice, more than likely with his brothers. My heart was in my throat as I grabbed into the door handle.
“Seatbelt. Now,” Enzo commanded.
That snapped me out of my paralysis. Stretching across the car, I moved to duck my head underneath his arms.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring his question, I grabbed onto his seatbelt and locked it in place for him. Then, satisfied that he was protected, I sat back down to buckle my own belt.
My heart was still pounding but fear was no longer getting the better of me. “You really should follow your own orders. What good is it if the driver of the car isn’t secured?”
Enzo growled but said nothing. A clear sign that he knew I was right. He was of no use to me or anyone if he got hurt without a seatbelt in place. An injured getaway driver didn’t help me.
I took a deep breath, my first attempt at slowing my heartbeat. We didn’t say much as Enzo drove me home. When we arrived at my townhouse, he hustled me inside and produced a pistol from out of nowhere as we moved through the foyer and into the entrance hall.
“Which room is most secure?” he asked me, placing a firm hand on the small of my back as he guided me down the hall.
“There’s a panic room,” I responded. “But I don’t think we need it.”
“I don’t think so either, but knowing the lay of the land doesn’t hurt at a time like this,” he said.
We made it into the living room, and Enzo began a methodical house search from there, checking every room like he was expecting somebody to have broken in or something. Finally, when he was done, he relaxed enough to sit down across from me in the living room.
“I doubt the bomber followed us home,” I said sardonically.
“You joke, Valentina, but you have no idea what your enemies are capable of,” he said, his tone hard as granite.
“I almost lost my father twice. Your family took my uncle from me. Of course I know,” I hissed, barely suppressing my hurt and anger.
“So let me do my job,” he said.
“If anything, it was you they were after not me,” I pointed out.
“What do I care about my own life? It’s yours I’m sworn to protect,” he retorted.
“How can you not care about your own life?”
“You are mine to protect,” he said firmly. “I told you. You are my code. Nothing and no one else matters.”
“Somebody has to care about your life, Enzo,” I said desperately, a lump forming in my throat. “If you won’t care about it then I will. You were the one who could have been killed at that bank.”
“Are those tears in your eyes, Valentina?”
His tone was so cruel that I turned my face away to hide it. To hide the fact that he was right. I was crying.
I shut my eyes, trying to stop the tears but they slid down my cheeks anyway. Angry at myself, I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop a sob from escaping. While I couldn’t stop the tears, I refused to make a sound. And I wouldn’t let him see the look on my face while I cried for him.
Better for him to wonder if I was actually crying.
“Save your tears. Don’t waste them on me,” he said bitterly.
More tears. Only this time, I was strong enough to brush them aside. Taking a deep breath, I finally permitted myself to speak. “A year ago, your family tried to kill my father with a car bomb.”
“That traumatized you.” His observation was direct but the harshness in his tone was dialed back at least.
I took several moments to respond. I hated that I was showing so much weakness.
That for the past few days, all I had done was show Enzo the things that would destroy me.
The thought of him, my father, or anyone else I cared about getting hurt was too much to bear.
I’d already lost my Uncle Tony. I couldn’t lose anyone else. Least of all Enzo.
“Yes, it traumatized me,” I finally admitted.
Taking the chance to compose myself, I got up and stepped into the adjoining powder room.
The image I saw in the mirror almost brought me to tears again.
Locks of hair had escaped the tight bun.
Worse, my eyes were red and puffy from crying.
Not to mention, I was going to need makeup to deal with how pale from fear I looked.
I couldn’t face my own reflection for a moment longer.
Slowly, I reached into my bag and got to work on looking like the fierce, fearless mafia princess I knew I was.
While my father was recovering, I would act as his second.
That meant that I was in control. My family was looking to me for leadership, yet here I was.
Playing house with our enemy and crying over him when he was clearly unmoved by tears.
When I was finally done, I looked in the mirror and this time, and could meet my eyes. I no longer looked like I’d been crying. Quite the opposite. With my hair returned to a severe bun, the color back in my cheeks, and that lethal flash in my eyes, I looked like I was ready for war.