Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
That sharp breath turns into a gurgled knot when I find the image programmed to the home screen. There are no apps disrupting the picture, so I get the full effect without restraints.
It’s Enzo in his dark slacks, his dress shirt discarded to leave him in one of those white tank tops. It’s a selfie but I don’t even get to sit on the surprise that a man like him takes selfies because the image…it’s a fucking good one.
He’s slouched in a fancy armchair I’ve never seen, his head tipped lazily, offering his profile, the sharp lines of his jaw and curves of his full lips that are pressed together, only a hint of his dark eyes seen as he stares off at nothing. But it’s not the rugged perfection of a man not even trying that has my blood heating. It’s the angle in which he took the shot, capturing the kiss I pressed against his neck the other night.
The lipstick-stamped kiss that was still there this morning.
Because he tattooed it to his skin.
Chapter
Ten
Boston
It’s four hours later when someone comes knocking on my door.
I don’t bother moving from where I’m lying, smack-dab in the center of the damn bed. I have a headache from glaring at the chandelier above and counting a total of four hundred and fifteen crystals from this position alone. So when the person slams their fist back down on the heavy wood not five seconds later, I blindly heave a book at it.
The knocking stops and I sigh to myself, finally feeling a hint of satisfaction and allow my eyes to close.
The door swings open and a heavy footstep sounds, but only one and then complete silence fills the space once more. The difference is this silence is ear-piercingly loud and I know who walked in the room. Just as I think it, the universe decides to confirm by sending a soft burst of wind through the open balcony doors.
I hold strong for as long as I can, but when my skin starts to prickle, and still not even the rustle of trees outside reaches my ears, I cave, my eyes flicking open and pointing in his direction.
Enzo isn’t looking at me, though. No, he’s looking at the butt of the blunt and the burn mark beside it where I put it out with the help of the shiny new wood.
“Yeah.” I move my eyes back to the ceiling. “Met the OG wifey. She’s pretty and my age,” I guess. “I would say you have a type but…I’m not sure if younger than you qualifies as a type or a preference.” My eyes slide his way then, noting the way his fist is still wrapped around the handle of my door. He literally froze in place. “Maybe marriage is like a sampler platter for you. You had the brunette, now the blonde.” I force a smirk. “I’ll be sure to start packing if I spot a redhead vying for your attention.”
“This is why you wanted to speak to Rocklin.” He releases his death grip on the handle and steps farther into the room, his eyes scanning over every inch in search of another sign of his first wife.
“What’s the point of having a sister if you can’t talk shit about the people who piss you off together?”
His head snaps my way then, our eyes meeting for the first time since he walked in, and a small laugh leaves me when I spot the slight frown along his brow.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to own up to it.”
My brows turn to frown. “Why not?”
“Because now I know you’ll be speaking negatively about me.”
“Hate to break it to you, Enzo. Everyone speaks negatively about you.”
“Jealousy will do that. I am the only man who earned his place on their own and I won’t be sharing, which is why your father hates me in the first place. Because everything I own will remain mine and mine alone. Just as you will.”
I roll my eyes. “So you keep saying.”
His glare is sharp. “Why are you so calm about Katana?”
My brows lift, not having expected him to ask that.
“Answer me,” he pushes when I don’t respond. “Is it because you already knew?”
“If I had known, I never would have approached you.”
Enzo’s jaw clenches at my answer and he studies me a long moment. “Is it because you think you can get away from me now? Because you can’t. I’ll—”
“Find me, hunt me, lock me in a bigger, badder tower. Yeah, yeah, I know. That much you’ve made perfectly clear.”
He presses his lips into a firm line, anger and frustration heavy in his gaze.
I look back to the chandelier and watch him grow closer in my peripheral.
“You’ve detached.”
His words strike a chord I didn’t know existed, and I have to work to keep my expression blank.