My jaw drops. I hold the sheet tighter to my chest, sitting upright and glaring at the woman like the intruder that she is. She gives a small nod in my direction, then glances at Enzo still blissfully asleep and—God help me—naked, sheet rumpled at his feet.
Fully naked.
Balls-to-the-mattress, sun-glinting-off-his-ass, naked.
I jab my elbow into his ribs. “Enzo.”
He groans, shifts. I jab harder. “Enzo, wake up. There’s someone in the room.”
He rolls to his back and stretches like a damn cat, biceps flexing, dick now on full display, a lazy smile curving across his lips without even opening his eyes. “Mmm. Smells like coffee.”
“Enzo!” I whisper-yell, eyes darting to the maid who’s now folding a towel at the foot of the bed like we’re not having the most mortifying morning in history.
Finally, his eyes open, drowsy but alert. He rolls onto his side, smirking when he sees me wrapped in sheets like a scandalized nun.
“She saw you,” I hiss, pointing with my chin toward the maid as she walks out the door, closing it behind her.
He shrugs and yawns. “She’s worked for me for years. Nothing she hasn’t seen before.”
“No,” I snap.
Enzo arches a brow. “No what, Angel?”
“No other woman gets to see your dick.”
He blinks.
“I don’t care how long she’s worked here or how many timesshe’s seen it. That cock,” I say, jabbing a finger at his groin where he’s completely unbothered and already semi-hard from our argument, “is mine now. You married me. Sure, this is a fucked-up situation, but I’m still your wife. That dick is off-limits to everyone but me.”
Enzo laughs. Not just a chuckle—a full-bodied, deep, rumbling laugh that rolls out of his chest like thunder. He presses a hand to his stomach as if he can’t take it.
“Jesus, you’re serious,” he wheezes, eyes shining with amusement.
“Dead serious.”
He sobers a bit, but that cocky grin lingers. “Possessive little bride.” He rolls toward me, propping himself up on one elbow. “Fuck, I like you like this.”
“Good,” I say, chin lifted defiantly. “Get used to it.”
He leans in, his voice dropping. “I could get very used to it.”
And just like that, the playful irritation simmers into something more charged. His hand comes to rest on my thigh, sliding beneath the sheet. I shiver.
But I’m not ready to let him distract me.
I swat his hand away and make myself a cup of coffee instead. “Try anything before I’ve eaten, and I’ll bite you.”
“Bite me later, then,” he says with a wink.
I sip again, smirking over the rim. “Deal.”
We fall into a strange silence, broken only by the sound of the news droning in the background. I sip the coffee, grateful for something warm and familiar. He pours himself a cup, settling back against the headboard like this is just another normal day.
"My accountant will be by later," he says casually. "He’ll load my card to your phone and get the bank app set up for you."
I choke slightly on my sip. "What now?"
"You’re my wife. What’s mine is yours. Don’t argue."
