Maybe I was oversensitive. Maybe he was just protective. Maybe that wasn't the worst thing.
My pulse kicked hard. Now. Right now. Sunlight, good mood, last night still hanging between us. I should tell him now—I'm pregnant, it's yours.
"Enzo, I need to tell you something—"
His phone rang.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. His expression iced over in a heartbeat. The man who'd been flirting against the counter vanished, replaced by the cold bastard from my first day at the company.
He answered in rapid-fire words I didn't understand, low and clipped.
Thirty seconds. He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Paused by me long enough to press a shallow kiss to my forehead.
"I'll be back soon. If you need anything, ask the housekeeper."
The front door closed behind him.
I stood in the living room listening to the car start, pull away, fade completely. The pregnancy news stuck in my throat again. Next time. We had plenty of time.
With things settled with Enzo and the club behind me, I felt lighter. I started exploring. First floor, second floor, yard. Bigger than I'd thought. Five guest rooms besides the master, a study, and one empty room I couldn't figure out. Everything pristine, hotel-crisp.
Back downstairs, I found a woman in an apron in the kitchen. Mid-thirties, brown hair pinned back, pleasant features, smile lines at her eyes.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett." She gave a slight bow. "I'm Anna Bianchi. I'll be taking care of you. Would you like breakfast?"
"Just Chloe is fine." I smiled awkwardly. "Whatever's easy for breakfast. Thank you, Anna."
Anna got to work, efficient with eggs, toast, and fresh juice. I watched from the table, this weird warm feeling spreading through me. Too good to be real. From a basement rental to a fireplace mansion in one night.
The warmth didn't last. Pregnancy hormones, probably. I'd been so unstable lately, especially with contrasts this sharp. Normal for pregnant women, right?
When Anna brought breakfast, I tried making conversation. Push down the strange tightness in my chest.
Anna was quiet but capable, polite without being stiff. She'd worked here for almost a year, arranged by Enzo's people. Had a sister studying in Italy. Liked baking on weekends.
One breakfast and I felt closer to her. The mansion was too big, too unfamiliar, but the morning light was nice. My nerves actually relaxed.
"Anna, are there good walking spots nearby?" I swallowed the last bite of toast and dabbed my mouth. "I'd like to get out, walk around the neighborhood. Fresh air."
Anna's hand froze mid-wipe on the table. Her warm smile went stiff. "Miss Bennett, there's a lovely path in the garden. You can walk in the yard."
I frowned, caught the limitation in her phrasing.
"I mean outside. Past the front gate."
Anna slowly set down her cloth. Hands folded, she gave me a practiced, apologetic smile. The casual warmth evaporated, replaced by pure professionalism.
"Miss Bennett, Mr. Falcone gave strict instructions. You can't leave the house right now."
Every relaxed nerve snapped tight.
"What does that mean?"
"It's not safe outside. Mr. Falcone said until he's certain it's completely secure, you should stay inside." Anna's gaze slid past my shoulder toward the closed front door. "There are two gentlemenhandling security at the entrance. If you need anything, tell me. I'll arrange it."
I looked through the window by the door. Two men in black suits on the porch, built like tanks, earpieces in.
Confusion swamped me. I knew Enzo's mafia ties meant heightened security, but I just wanted a walk. What could happen?
