Page 98 of Enzo

“Can’t you let me have the win?”

“Fine then. I wanted you to see the place where I go to hide.”

“You like to hide.” She points her spoon at me. “I figured that about you. You like being invisible, and left alone.”

“Are you psychic now?”

“Maybe.” She takes a scoop of her sorbet. “Want to try some?”

“No thank you.” I notice that she has a dot of yellow sorbet on the side of her mouth.

“You have some …” I point to my own lip. She licks her lip, but misses the yellow spot. I reach across, instinctively, and wipe it with my thumb, brushing the soft skin beside her mouth. She stills. And so do I when I realize what I’m doing.

“Thanks,” she says breezily, and takes another scoop of her sorbet.

My thumb tingles from the touch, and it’s only when I sit back that I see the napkin I’m holding in my other hand.

We sit for a while before I suggest that we leave. As we walk along, and I try to hail a taxi, Molly slows down and stops outside a bookshop. She presses her face up against the window, looking inside.

“Do you want to go in?” I ask, looking at the display of books she’s staring at.

She shakes her head. “No. No. We should get back. You’ve got work to do and I don’t want to get you in trouble. “

But the way her gaze fixes on the window display, it’s obvious that she wants to go inside. She’s only saying no because of me.

“You’re not trouble … I mean, you won’t get me in trouble.”

“No.” She sounds determined. Even though her expression says something else. “We need to get back, before your brother finds out.”

She’s been trying not to ask for much, and she’s been putting my needs before her own.

She wants to go into that bookshop, and she won’t. She’s spent the day adapting to my world and that is a rare thing. Rarer still because she expects nothing in return.

Chapter 26

MOLLY

That bookshop looked so quaint. It would have been wonderful to browse around inside, but I remembered that Enzo had work to do.

Now that we're back in the penthouse, I'm going to let him get on with it.

“We'll get takeout tonight,” he says. “You order, and feel free to take as long as you want.”

I grin. He’s noticed I like studying the menus carefully. “Okay.”

I want to help him where I can, and if he needs me to order takeout, I'll happily do so. I swipe the file of takeout flyers, but I already know what we're going to order. I've been dreaming of fish tacos recently. But then I have better idea.

“Why don’t I make something?” I suggest. I’d like to do that. I’d like to do something for him while I’m here. He’s been so good to me.

“Make something?”

“Like … cook?”

He peers at me like he’s not sure he can trust me in the kitchen. . “Are you sure?”

I chortle. “I can cook, Enzo. I’ve been cooking ever since …”

“Ever since?”