“He spent years learning how to check his impulses. But don’t forget, you attempting to date last month sent him over the edge and did have him making a move.”
My body responded at the mere memory of him lifting my shirt that night to check if my panties were wet before he finally gave in and touched me for the first time.
“He’s trying so hard to be the man he believes you deserve.”
“He’s always deserved me.” I let go of a small breath. “Remember when I felt like something was missing in my life, so I took those classes, trying to figure it out?” I thought back to those days, which felt like years ago now. “But it’s so easy to see now that what I was missing was him.”
“Pretty sure he feels the same about you.” She smiled, rubbing her stomach. “Has he, um, read Bianca’s unedited story yet?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t wanted to press, but it’s been a month, so maybe. He hasn’t mentioned it, though.” My shoulders slumped as I thought back to the story. “I only read the first two pages, so I don’t know the details of what really happened myself. I just know Nico didn’t tell her he was married until after she fell for him.”
“And it wasn’t like she’d been invited to Alice’s wedding. I’m pretty sure the Costas didn’t have family reunions with Angela’s mafia side of the family for Bianca to have met him beforehand.”
“Right.”
“I hate to say it, and I don’t want to ruin the glow you have going for you, so please don’t let it, but I feel like Enzo needs to read it if he really wants to let go of the past. Maybe ask him about it tonight?”
I was on the same page. Like always. “I’ll try,” I said, nervous now, slipping on a pair of black slingback heels. “He should be here soon.”
We went downstairs, where Ryan was on the floor in the living room, and he had Chiara over his head while she pretended to fly.
“Le sigh,” my sister said at the sight. “He’s going to be such a great father.” She faced me, then tipped her head to the side, and I followed her gaze to see Enzo there.
The breath whooshed free from my lungs at the sight of him in the doorway watching us. Black dress pants and a black button-down shirt. Sleeves cuffed to the elbows showing his ink. A glimpse of the guardian-angel tattoo on his chest from the top two buttons undone. And his hair was styled off to the side in that sexy-messy way I loved.
“Hi.” Was that a pageant wave I just did?
“Hi.” Enzo removed his hands from his pockets and wet his lips, his eyes climbing from my heels up my legs. He spent a little extra time on my breasts as he started our way. “Bellissima.”
God, I loved when the man spoke Italian to me. And his nickname for me, Tesoro, always had me melting.
“Don’t stay out too late,” Ryan called out, sitting up and placing Chiara on his shoulders. She clapped his cheeks and laughed.
“Dah-dah,” Chiara called out, her eyes on Enzo, and that would never get old, especially the smile it produced from Enzo.
He went over and took her from Ryan, then lifted her up over his head, making that her second plane ride for the evening. “You going to be a good girl for your aunt and uncle, hmm?” Enzo asked her, and Chiara giggled before I hugged and kissed her goodbye.
Once we were outside, I leaned into Enzo and murmured, “But I might not be a good girl.”
He snatched my wrist and spun me to face him. Arching into him as his hand traced along my silhouette, I heard him whisper, “Fire.”
At the feel of his hard cock pressing against me, I had a feeling the chef was finally about to turn up the heat.
About.
Damn.
Time.
Sitting back on my heels on top of his hotel bed, I licked my lips and moaned as I finished my last bite of pizza.
Enzo stood in front of the bed, his eyes steady on me as I closed the pizza box and brushed a thumb across my lip, checking for crumbs. The steely, hard look in his eyes had me pinning my knees together.
Instead of dinner at a fancy restaurant, he’d surprised me with pizza delivery to his hotel room and a bottle of wine. I nearly blurted, I love you, at that fact, but I was trying to behave and take things slow. Pretend we were still in the early stages of our relationship and not say the words burning on my tongue that I’d last shared the day Thomas had been arrested four weeks ago.
“You barely ate.” I frowned as he cupped his mouth, his gaze lifting to the ceiling, and that was never a good sign. “What happened in New York?”