Soft light filtered through a small opening in the curtains, and when I rolled over to check the clock, I couldn’t believe it was already nine in the morning.
I forced myself to sit and checked my phone on the nightstand to see if Enzo had ever texted last night, still worried I’d made up his homecoming in my head. But there weren’t any notifications.
Once out of bed, I changed into yoga pants, a sports bra, and one of my worn-out tees from my college days.
There was a knock at the door, followed by the question, “Are you decent?” a moment later. I opened up, realizing it was Angela, Enzo’s mom.
We hadn’t spoken since the Pablo fiasco in the dining room last night, and after Enzo had left with his brothers, I’d pretty much hidden in the bedroom.
“Is Enzo home?” Please say yes and I wasn’t dreaming.
“He’s in the study downstairs.”
Thank God. My hand slammed to my chest with relief.
She leaned into the interior doorframe, her dark-brown eyes focused on me, concern still swirling there, and I wasn’t sure why it felt pointed my way. “I know what happened last night.”
About the operation or the fact we made love in the bed behind me? And now my cheeks were probably a shocking shade of red.
I wanted to make a beeline for the study and throw myself into Enzo’s arms. Learn the details of what happened and decide if I was safe to exit panic mode or whether I needed to stay swimming there, fighting the tides, a bit longer.
“My daughter’s killer is still out there, and that’s why the extra security,” she finally spoke, sharing the grave news, and now I understood her face, her posture, her overall everything.
“And I know my sons are trying to find out who did it, and I trust they’ll get to the bottom of it.” She reached for a crucifix atop her dressy black blouse and smoothed it between her fingers. “My husband also shared that my cousin’s men nearly hurt you yesterday, and I’m so sorry for that. Giovanni and his family are coming over in a little bit to offer their apologies, if you’re okay with that?”
Am I okay with meeting a crime boss? Not really. “As long as Enzo is good with that.”
She nodded. “I know it must seem shocking that my family is mafia, but the Sicilians have a very small piece of the organized-crime pie over here in America. Back in Italy, things were different. And the fact your mother never told you—”
“Wait, my mom knows your family is mafia?”
She nodded. “Your mother got mixed up with a man who worked for my father early on in her life. But after she married your father, she ran into him again, and that’s when my husband saved her from him. I felt horrible about it all, and, well, we became close friends.”
Wow. So my mom was right. We did both have a “type.” But unlike Mom’s ex, Enzo was a good man.
“Enzo told me this morning why you’re really here with him.” Her tone was soft, a whisper of apology in her voice. “You’re here to keep him from going off the deep end. And seeing the way he looks at you,” she said while letting go of the crucifix, “makes me feel like there’s still hope for all my boys. Hope they’ll all settle down and fall in love one day.”
Oh, wow. Um. What was I supposed to say to that? I was barely awake, and I didn’t trust myself to not trip all over my words.
“From mother to mother, thank you for teaching my boy how to feel more than hate and anger. Teaching him how to love again.” She reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sure he’d like to see you now.” And then she left, as if she hadn’t just tilted my world, shifting it off its axis for a moment.
It took me a few deep breaths before I could unglue myself from my position and search for him.
I found him with Constantine downstairs in the study. Constantine was focused on a laptop. Enzo was in black sweats and a black tee standing off to his side, a hand on the desk, studying whatever was on Constantine’s screen.
I remained in the doorway, relieved to see him. He lifted his head, gaze shifting to me, and the harsh lines of stress disappeared. His face relaxed before his lips twitched into a slight smile.
“Hi.” I tossed my hand in the air for the second nervous greeting that morning, and his smile broadened before he stood tall.
Enzo rounded the desk, and I couldn’t stop myself—I ran to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips, and he captured me and held me tight, his mouth working fast to find mine. “Tesoro,” he whispered against my lips between soft, reassuring kisses.