"Of course," Vittorio says tightly. He releases me and steps back, but not before leaning close one more time. "We'll finish this conversation later,tesoro. In private."
Then he's gone, disappearing into the crowd.
I'm still standing there, my heart racing, when Enzo's hand slides into mine.
I suck in a breath, every muscle tensing, waiting for the fear to kick in. Waiting for my brain to scream at me to run, for my body to lock up, for the panic to flood back?—
But it doesn't come.
Enzo's hand is warm, calloused, steady. His other hand settles on my waist, light, careful, nothing like Vittorio's grip, and my body doesn't revolt. Doesn't freeze. Doesn't panic.
It never does with him. Not since the night he carried me out of that basement covered in… way too many things I don’t want to think about.
We start to move, and I can't look at him. Can't let him see how much he affects me. How, even after everything, his touch is the only one that doesn't make me want to crawl out of my skin.
"What are you doing?" I ask, keeping my eyes on his chest.
"You looked uncomfortable."
A laugh bursts out of me—sharp and humorless. "So, you decided to swoop in and save me? Again?"
His hand tightens slightly on my waist. Not controlling. Just... present. "Isabella?—"
"No." I look up at him now, letting him see all the anger I've been carrying for four years. "You don't get to do this, Enzo. You don't get to pretend you care about me now when you've ignored me for a year. When you broke my heart and walked away without looking back."
His jaw clenches. "It's more complicated?—"
"Then explain it." I'm so close to him I can feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne mixed with whiskey and something darker. Gunpowder, maybe. Danger. "Because from where I'm standing, you saved my life once and I've been paying for it ever since."
We're moving in slow circles, and I'm hyperaware of every point where our bodies touch. His hand on my waist. My hand in his. The bare inches between us that feel like miles and nothing at all.
His thumb brushes the small of my back, just once, barely there and heat shoots down my spine.
Fuck.
This is so much worse than it used to be. The pull. The want. Four years ago, when I told him I loved him, it was intense. Now? Now it's a live wire between us, sparking and dangerous, and I can see in his eyes that he feels it too.
"You want to know why I stay away?" His voice is rough, his dark eyes boring into mine. "You want to know why I can't?—"
He cuts himself off, his grip on my waist tightening.
My heart is racing for entirely different reasons now. "Why you can't what?"
"Before you marry him tomorrow," he says instead, his voice dropping lower, "there's something I need to tell you. Something you need to kno?—"
The explosion cuts him off.
One second, I'm staring into Enzo's eyes, my whole body wound tight with tension. The next, the world erupts.
Sound hits first—deafening, glass shattering, people screaming, followed by smoke, thick and choking. Then chaos.
Enzo moves before my brain can catch up. One arm wraps around me, the other hand on the back of my head, and then I'm falling. We hit the floor hard and he's dragging me, pulling me under the nearest table, his body covering mine completely.
Gunfire.
We’re going to die.
CHAPTER TWO
