Enzo’s brows furrowed. “You’re too young for all that shit. It surprises me that your father actually planned this. He seems to care for you more than that.”
I looked down at the sketchbook in my lap. “Yeah. I guess tradition outweighs happiness.”
He chortled. “Some traditions are better left in the past.”
That made me smile. “Agreed.”
He gripped the back of the couch. “Are you up for some hand-to-hand combat?” He nodded at the window. “We’re going to be stuck in here for a while.”
I looked back outside, feeling a little claustrophobic. The impending storm reminded me of the direness of our situation. We were about to be snowed in like sitting ducks waiting for the Sorellos to find us.
“Hey,” Enzo said softly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “They’re not going to be here for at least another week. Longer if this storm continues.”
I took a deep breath and nodded, bringing my gaze to his. “You’re right. I don’t know why but it just makes it seem more real for some reason.”
“I get it. But we have to stay calm and focused to make it through this.” He gave me a teasing grin. “Can’t have you spiraling over some snow.”
I smacked my tongue, then tossed a balled up piece of paper I had next to me at him. “Shut up.”
He chuckled. “I think I might have some sparring gear in the basement. I’ll be right back.”
Enzo opened the door to the basement and disappeared down the stairs. He was gone for a few minutes before I heard his footsteps on the stairs. When he appeared in the doorway, he had a wide grin.
I arched a brow. “What?”
He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. The simple gesture was so sexy and I didn’t know why. “I forgot how much sparring gear we had down there. My parents kept everything, apparently. Including the wrestling mat my brother and I used to spar on.”
“Are you serious? You want me to go down there with you and wrestle?”
A smirk curved one corner of his sexy, stupid mouth. “Yes. Unless you’re too scared.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing he was trying to get under my skin. “You’re on.”
I popped up from the couch and followed Enzo down into the basement. What I hadn’t told him was I really didn’t need any combat training.
Even though my father was old fashioned, he put me in self-defense classes when I was young. He wanted me to be able to take care of myself if the worst ever happened; in case he and all his men were killed and I was left alone with the enemy.
So I had a decade of self-defense experience.
And I couldn’t wait to show Enzo.
The basement was colder than the rest of the cabin, the air thick with dust and the faint smell of pine. Enzo had turned it into a makeshift training space: a worn mat on the concrete floor, boxes pushed against the walls; there was one bulb overhead casting light that flickered like it was nervous.
Enzo went to the far edge of the worn mat. Our eyes met from across the mat and I smirked.
“What?” he asked, his lips curving up slightly as he arched a brow.
“Nothing. I’m just imagining you and your brother rolling around down here.”
Enzo chuckled. “Some of my sparring gear might fit you. I was smaller back then.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I said with a smirk. “You won’t be too rough, right?”
His eyes darkened. “Not at first. Once you get more comfortable, I might turn it up a bit. I want things to be realistic so you’re prepared.”
“Well, I won’t have sparring gear if the Sorellos show up, right?”
His lips curved up in a teasing grin. “I don’t know. I might put all the protective gear I have on you, just to be safe. I think I have a bulletproof vest somewhere down here.”
