“Of course I’m taking credit! Who do you think made the declaration last night? You weren’t the ones brave enough to blurt it out, were you? No,” Enzo was practically vibrating with satisfaction. “Without my perfectly timed announcement, Mister ‘Overcompensating for Something’ would still be tryingto set Finn up with whatever plastic fantastic nightmare girl he’d last encountered.”
Finn crossed his arms and scratched at his chin as he examined Enzo.
“What do you say, darlin’?” He turned to me. “Do we let him have this one?”
“Let me have this one?” Enzo’s voice grew shrill. “Let me have this one?” He flopped dramatically onto my bed, sprawling across the covers. “I am an artist of love. Cupid with better hair. And even if my declaration last nightwasaccidental, that’s hardly a reason to debate ‘letting me have this one.’ I personally...”
“Enzo,” I interrupted. “We need you and Dom to help us keep it believable. You’re our inside men.”
He sat up, his expression shifting to something more serious, though no less delighted. “Sister, I would lie to the Pope himself if it meant keeping you happy. What do you need?”
“Just... go along with it when we’re around people. We’re still figuring out the details ourselves.”
“How long have you been ‘together?’” He made air quotes, grinning.
“About a month,” Finn answered. “Started just before your engagement party but kept it quiet.”
“Amazing. Very believable,” Enzo nodded sagely. He pressed his hands together under his chin, regarding us with his phony serious stare. “Who made the first move?”
“I... uh...” My stomach flopped. We already hadn’t gone deep enough, sidetracked by our individual traumas. My mind began to whirl around everything else we’d missed.
“I did,” Finn offered quickly. I shot him a grateful smile.
“Love at first sight?”
“She made me work for it.”
Enzo stood up and walked over to Finn with a menacing look, betrayed only by the slight smirk pulling at the corner of hismouth. “Have you slept together? Did you use protection? Did you have consent?”
“Enzo!” I blurted out, my face burning. To Finn’s credit, he had the wherewithal to also look aghast. “Nobody is going to ask us that.”
“Dom might,” he turned toward me.
“Dom’s not going to ask that.”
“No, no, he’s right,” Finn’s face now looked as hot as mine felt.
Enzo spun around again. “Now, someone needs to shower because we have a performance to maintain, and Finn smells like he slept in his clothes.”
“Because I did sleep in my clothes,” Finn replied flatly, obviously over the theatrics as much as I was.
“Details,” Enzo waved him toward the door. “Go. Cleanse yourself. I need to interrogate my sister about her feelings.”
Finn glanced at me, and I nodded. “Go ahead. I can handle an audience with the queen.”
As soon as Finn disappeared down the hall, Enzo sat down on my bed again and fixed me with a penetrating stare he’d inherited from his father. “Alexandra Joan Archer.”
“Enzo Ignacio Martinez-Zanetti.”
“Are you happy?”
His question caught me off guard. “I... what do you mean?” I sputtered. “It’s an arrangement to help both of us out. It’ll get Mom off my back and give Finn a little breathing room with, I assume, Lou.”
“But when you woke up in his arms this morning, were you happy?”
My cheeks grew hot as my heart threw itself against my ribs. “That doesn’t... how did you... why does that...”
Enzo’s voice went softer. “I haven’t seen you look this content in years, mi hermana. Maybe ever.”
