Seven’s breath caught at the swell of emotion that washed over him. Enzo was truly the sweetest man he had ever met.It was hard to believe how they’d started months ago. Seven believed, deep down in his soul, that Enzo would do whatever it took to make sure his mother never set foot in another prison cell, legalities be damned.
“Let’s get dressed. It’s gonna be a long day,” Enzo said, dropping another kiss on his bare shoulder before he turned them both, leading them back towards the stairs to his bedroom.
“Did they drop off my clothes while I was sleeping?” Seven asked, frowning as he glanced back down at the apartment, looking for a suitcase he might have missed.
“No. Jericho said it was impossible to get to your apartment with all the reporters camped out. I called in a favor while you were sleeping last night. Some things were dropped off while you were still drooling on my shoulder.”
Seven narrowed his eyes. “Called in a favor?” he repeated slowly. “From who?”
Enzo smirked. “I know a guy.”
“You know a guy?” he parroted.
How had he missed Enzo getting out of bed last night to retrieve clothes from some mysterious clothing fairy?
“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?” Enzo teased, chucking him under the chin.
“Are you going to start making sense soon?”
“I have a guy in men’s fashion. He was nice enough to let me buy from him directly.”
“You talk like a mob boss,” Seven mused, unable to hide his smile.
“Why? ‘Cause I’m Italian?” Enzo asked, a slow grin sliding across his face. “That’s offensive.”
“The Italians didn’t corner the market on the mob, you know,” Seven reminded him. “You guys just got cooler movies.”
Enzo walked to the closet and pulled out a shopping bag, handing it to him. Seven tugged each piece of clothing from theplain white paper bag, laying them out on the bed, staring at the tags with wide eyes.
Seven turned back to Enzo, giving him a suspicious look. “This is the clothing your friend rushed over to you? As a favor?”
“You don’t like them?” Enzo asked, face falling.
Seven made an exasperated noise. “It’s not about whether I like them or not. This is too much.” He grabbed the sleeve of the navy, red, and white sweater. “This is Gucci, Enzo. These jeans are Balmain. Balmain!”
“And the sneakers are Balenciaga,” Enzo said, looking adorably confused as he stared at the clunky white footwear. “I know the shoes are a little weird, but it’s couture. It’s all a little weird. He works in the warehouse so we had to go with what they had in your size. We can go shopping tonight and you can find stuff more your style. This is just for work.”
“More my style?” Seven said, shaking his head. “My style is Goodwill. My style is Felix’s hand-me-downs and samples. I know I wear name brands at work, but that’s because Felix lent me the clothes he won’t wear anymore because they’re ‘last season.’”
Enzo crossed the room, wrapping his arms around him and drawing him in. Seven wanted to fight, but his body instantly melted.
“We’ll consider that part of your dowry, too,” he teased.
“I know you’ll get the money back when my mom shows up in court, but you’re spoiling me. This is thousands of dollars.”
Enzo buried his face in his neck, words muffled against his skin. “I make a lot of money. If I want to spend it on you, why can’t I? Spoiling you makes me happy. Especially considering how we started. It’s going to take me a lifetime to make up for hurting you as badly as I did.”
Enzo’s lips moved against his neck as he spoke, raising goosebumps along Seven’s arms. He was going to get addictedto this—the way Enzo whispered his cheesiest, sweetest lines directly into Seven’s skin like he was embarrassed. He wrapped his arms around Enzo’s broad shoulders, then ran a hand up into his thick, dark hair, tugging him from his hiding space.
“You already apologized. You’ve made it up to me dozens of times,” Seven reminded. “You don’t have to buy me. I’m already yours.”
“I’m not buying you,” Enzo said, looking crestfallen. “Is that what it feels like?”
For a second, Seven’s lungs forgot how to work. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “No, I just don’t want people thinking that our relationship is…transactional.”
Maybe he wasn’t over the contract. Maybe—just a little—Seven worried that they’d somehow ended up exactly as Enzo had intended. Enzo giving, Seven taking. But that wasn’t true. They were always together. Enzo put him first. He’d dropped everything to take care of Neith.
“There’s nothing transactional about us. I make a lot of money. A shocking amount, really.” His gaze dropped to Seven’s lips. “I want to be the one—theonlyone—who gives you what you need,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, sending Seven’s blood rushing south. “In all the ways.”
