Page 95 of Enzo

I wonder if I should get up and casually go over. As I’m about to set my book down, I hear him on the phone, and then I hear the study door shut, and he’s retreated into his man cave.

It’s probably better that he did. He always looks so sharp in his shirt and tie. He never rolls up his sleeves, but I find myself wondering what his forearms are like. It’s absurd that my heart has fluttered a few times when he’s looked at me.

Cabin fever.

That’s what it is.

I’ve already caused him enormous trouble.

He’s Enzo Knight, and I am Molly Dean.

This situation is temporary.

I’ll be returning to Chicago soon, and this apartment, and my days here will be another treasured memory I’ll cling to; boxed up in the same way as my night at the masked ball.

Enzo lives in a completely different universe. He lives in a world where people casually book penthouses like this.

And I’m a kindergarten teacher who likes to play Jenga alone.

***

ENZO

It's difficult to concentrate. Not because Molly’s making noise, but because everything is quiet again. And that unsettles me now.

I don't feel like working today. I’d rather spend time with Molly. I stop tapping away on my keyboard and sigh loudly before getting up and leaving the study. I tell myself I need to stretch my legs, but that’s only half the truth.

When I walk out, I see Molly gazing out of the windows and an ache forms in my gut. She probably feels like she's in a goldfish bowl.

She shouldn't.

She's never been to New York before, and it's a place she's always wanted to visit. I hang my head. Molly isn't someone who should be locked up like this.

“Hey.”

She turns around. “Are you taking a break? Want me to make you a smoothie or something?”

She always wants to make things better or easier for me. She’s always eager to help. She made me a sandwich earlier, for my lunch. I had to eat it at my desk while working.

“No, thank you.”

I slide my hands into my pocket and move to the windows. Her spark has faded and she seems noticeably different.

How many days of this will she have to endure?

But this situation needs careful handling. Things are building in momentum, and I, we, need them to die down again. I can’t risk doing anything to make matters worse. My family expects me to stay put and yet I don't want Molly to be unhappy. Or to feel like a prisoner in my world.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” she murmurs.

“It is.”

“I could sit here for hours admiring this view.”

“Wouldn't it be better to be out there?”

She tosses her book to the side. “Out there?”

“Why not?”