A long time passed—maybe a minute, maybe five—before my tears finally slowed. My breathing still hitched, but at least I wasn't losing control like before. I sniffed hard, about to pull away, when Liam spoke.
"What about me? Chloe, I care about you way more than he does."
I pressed against Liam's chest, feeling his embrace tighten.
"Since high school. Not being brave enough to tell you has always been my biggest regret."
He laughed bitterly. I felt the vibration in his chest.
"Then I saw you again at the club. I thought God was giving me a second chance. I don't care about your past. I don't care about any of that shit. Just give me a chance, okay?"
Liam's hand left my back. He stepped back half a pace, looking down at me. Streetlight caught in his brown eyes, which were wet.
I looked at Liam Brooks.
He stood before me, nose frozen red, lips purple from cold, tears pooling in his eyes but refusing to fall. He'd laid all his heart bare in front of me.
Compared to Enzo, he was a good man.
A real, complete, unreserved good man.
If I could fall for him, half my life's disasters would probably disappear.
But I couldn't. Because in this violent grief and pain, I finally had to admit what I'd been dodging all along—I loved Enzo.
Completely. Thoroughly. Hopelessly.
Even though he didn't want me. Even though he was about to marry someone else, my heart had fallen for him anyway, beyond all control.
Chapter Eleven
Enzo
Julian's mansion sat in the New York suburbs—three stories of white stone, two Porsches and a modified Range Rover parked out front. The porch light was on, but every window in the house was dark.
One in the morning. The Falcone family's number two was probably already in bed with some woman.
Too bad he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.
Two guards in the front yard—one leaning against the garage pillar smoking, the other sitting on the porch steps scrolling his phone. This was Julian's idea of security.
If these two worked for me, I'd fire them on the spot. Then break their kneecaps as punishment for incompetence.
They didn't even get up when Luca approached. Two muffled sounds, one after the other. Clean. The first guy's cigarette was still pinched between his fingers. The second guy's phone was still lit up with some half-finished Candy Crush game. That Julian could call this crew his security detail—the man never disappointed in his mediocrity.
Luca dragged both bodies into the shadows behind the garage, then nodded at me.
I pushed open the front door.
The decorative carved door was showy but not secure—a simple twist of the lock and it popped right open. Julian probably thought his security was good enough. In his world, nobody was stupid enough to directly attack a Falcone.
Clearly, his sense of safety rested on a flawed assumption. This would be one of the biggest mistakes of his life.
I climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor. The master bedroom door was ajar, but empty inside. The bed was rumpled, lipstick marks on the pillow. Water sounds and a woman's soft laughter came from the bathroom.
I pushed the bathroom door open.
Julian sat in the whirlpool tub, steam rising around him, a blonde woman pressed against his side. Both naked. A bottle of champagne and a plate of strawberries sat on the edge of the tub. Julian's hand rested on the woman's waist, the other reaching for the champagne.
