Page 28

“Out!” I snapped. “Go home already. Why are you even here?”

Enzo didn’t answer me. Instead, his lips pressed into a straight line, and he watched as I struggled to stand up. I forced myself to keep moving. Damn, Chelsea had really drunk me under the table, and she was still perfectly fine. The woman was a demon. I stepped into the shower and groaned as the first spray of warm water caressed my skin.

I glanced at the curtain before I gave in to my curiosity and peeked through the slit. Enzo had taken a seat on the toilet lid I’d just been perched on. He’s really not going anywhere, is he? What was his deal? I hadn’t seen the man in days, and now he was refusing to leave. My stomach clenched as I realized in horror that I was comforted by that fact. I liked that he was ignoring me, that he wasn’t going away.

Sighing, I snatched up the bar of soap and started getting to work as I tried not to think of why I was losing my damn mind. I was way too drunk to over-analyze myself like this and I didn’t want to run into any uncomfortable truths. I focused on getting washed up. When I stepped from the tub, Enzo had a towel waiting, draped over his lap. He was staring at his phone, and my eyes swept over it quickly.

I could use that. Maybe I can get it from him.

I brushed away the wet, icky feeling that ran down my spine from that thought and stepped forward. When I reached for the towel, Enzo stood up and wrapped it around my body instead. He ran the cloth over me, collecting up droplets of water as his breath feathered over my flesh. My cock ached, and somehow, I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re going to hyperventilate,” he informed me. “Breathe.”

I let out a big breath of air and the corner of his mouth ticked up, doing fucked up things to my insides. Enzo turned me toward the sink after he made sure the towel was tucked into place tightly and passed me my toothbrush. He swiped toothpaste on it and patted my ass.

“Brush.”

“You’re bossy,” I noted. I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth. “And -nnonying.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, not paying me a lick of attention. He just stared.

I tried to ignore him, but it was impossible not to squirm under his spectacled gaze. Heat rushed through me, and I cursed the alcohol in my system. That was the only reason I would ever be into him. Yeah, that’s it. I’m just drunk and horny. Anyone would want to fuck a man that looked like that. But I know the real him. No way I want anything to do with that.

I washed my mouth and face, and when I straightened up, he was still staring. “Why are you here?” I asked. “You haven’t answered that yet.”

“I don’t know yet.”

I opened my mouth and shut it again. Great, I was being stalked by a weirdo who happened to be part of a dangerous crime family. That wouldn’t end badly at all. I trudged past him and walked to my bedroom. As I stepped inside, Penelope shot out. He hated being confined. I walked to my dresser and snagged a pair of clean boxers, shimmying as I dragged them up my hips. I turned, and my heart almost fell out of my ass. My back slammed into the dresser. Enzo was right there, silently hovering.

“Fuck!” I snapped. “Will you go home already? You’re killing my buzz.”

Enzo reached out and touched my scar again, mapping it with his fingers. It was like he was obsessed with the thing. Just like the tattoo, I knew he wouldn’t let it go until I explained what it was. I gritted my teeth.

“Old injury,” I muttered. “Got into it with my old man one day, and he knocked me on my ass a few times. No big deal.”

“Your father the—” Enzo’s gaze met mine, and he blinked a few times. “Nevermind.”

“What were you going to say?” I pushed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said as he reached out and held the side of my neck. “Who was the girl? She yours?”

I got whiplash from the sudden change in topics and gawked at him. “Who?”

“The girl. Brown skin, big eyes, short little dress. The one at Blu,” he said impatiently as I continued to stare. “You were all over her.” His grip tightened on my throat. “Who was she?”

My stomach did a little flip as danger bells rang in my head. Was he jealous? Already? After the hotel, I’d thought it was a one-time thing, one night of intense, chaotic pleasure before we’d go back to our separate life paths and clash in the future. But here he was, standing in my bedroom, the pressure of his hand on my neck grounding me.

“A friend,” I said finally.

“Her name?”

A shiver passed over me. No way in hell was I going to tell Enzo anything about Chelsea. The look in his eyes screamed a warning. She’d end up at the bottom of a river somewhere.

“Why?” I asked him.

“I just want to know.”

I sealed my lips. There was no way I could tell him that I knew exactly who he was, so that was never going to happen. He’d figure out that I was investigating him. And that would be a death sentence.