Page 32 of The Prices We Pay
Josephine
For someone who doesn’t drink, I feel like I have one hell of a hangover. My gut hurts from all of the club soda I drank, I have bags under my eyes from only getting a mere three hours of sleep, and my head is pounding from the club music I spent all night listening to.
Not to mention the dull ache in my chest. Which may or may not be due to my attempt to forget about my lingering attraction to the men I work with, which now has only intensified after they saved me from my wretched date and spent the entire night ensuring I had a good time. Well… Sebastian and Enzo did, while Dante and Luca stared at me as if I were their prey and they were the hunters.
I get the feeling they know how to hunt all too well.
But, regardless of how little I wanted to drag my ass out of bed this morning, here I am on my way to Jean & Joan’s to meet Enzo for coffee. I thought about canceling. I really did. But as I was leaving Kings last night, he looked at me with such a sparkle in his eyes before leaning in and whispering, “See you in the morning, Sweetheart.”
I knew there was no way in hell I was bailing.
So, here I am, with my hair in a messy bun, obnoxiously large aviators perched on my nose, a cropped T, a pair of light-washed ripped denim shorts, and Doc Martens. Not my best outfit, but definitely not my worst.
As I’m approaching Jean & Joan’s, a patron opens the door, and the delectable smell of coffee and pastries fills my nose. I practically float on a cloud of coffee beans and morning buns on my way up to the counter.
Perching my shades on top of my head, I order my usual hot, dirty chai with oat milk and a double chocolate muffin. I wait for what could only be a few minutes, and when my order is ready, I grab it from the counter and spin around to find an open table. I assume that I beat Enzo here, considering I live right down the block. I’m pleasantly surprised, though, to find Enzo already sitting at a small table in the corner, a cup of coffee frozen halfway to his mouth.
Just as they seem to always do around him, my cheeks heat at his perusal of my body as I make my way over to him. I know he’s not used to seeing me like this, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying his casual attire. He finally garners enough wherewithal to put his coffee down and stand from his chair as I get to the table, giving me a full view of his outfit.
He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt, cuffed tightly around his biceps, black jeans with rips across both knees, and a pair of black biker boots along with his usual black chain and pinky ring, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find a small blackhoop in his nose. His mahogany hair is a little messier than usual, hinting at the fact that he probably got as little sleep as I did. But when I look at his light green eyes, I find no trace of the dark circles underneath them that I was blessed with this morning.
Overall, his appearance this morning is dramatically different from the COO persona I’ve met at work, yet… I’m not surprised in the slightest that this is what he looks like in his free time. Not to mention the fact that every inch of skin that’s visible beside his face is covered in tattoos.
I wonder what he looks like naked.
My mouth salivates at the thought.
It’s safe to say he looks downright fuckable this morning.
Whoa, Joe. Easy girl.
“Morning, Lorenzo.” I stifle a laugh as he stands slack-jawed in front of me. I could tell he liked my outfit last night—I’m not blind—but this is a whole other level. “Can I sit?”
I look at the empty chair on the other side of the table and then back to him. He catches themovement and shakes himself out of his stupor. Clearing his throat, he says, “Sorry. I just—you just—wow.” There go those damn cheeks again. “I mean, I’ve never seen you like this. You look… wow.”
Smiling, I bite my lip as his eyes quickly dart to the tattoos peeking out under my cropped top. They cover most of my rib cage and meet in the middle of my abdomen, stopping just above my belly button. They hurt like a bitch, but they are some of my favorite pieces.
Clearly, I’m not the only one who enjoys them.
His eyes find mine again, realizing I totally caught him. He nervously grabs at the back of his neck. This time, a small laugh slips between my lips. I’m not used to seeing him so nervous. He’s usually so full of confidence and swagger.
I set my coffee and muffin on the table and sit in my chair, only to realize his eyes are roaming once again to the piece I have inked on my right thigh, covering a scar I want no memory of. It’s a snake weaving its way through a bundle of chrysanthemumsand pansies. Mine and Jasper’s zodiac flowers.
“Just… fucking wow,” he says again. Not bothering to take his eyes off my legs.
“You look pretty ‘wow’ yourself,” I laugh out softly.
Attempting to show him mercy, I give him a minute to regain some composure. Once he finally sits down, I take a long, slow sip of my drink, letting it warm me from the inside out.
I don’t care that it’s almost eighty degrees out already. I’m a hot coffee girl.Always.
Tapping my nose, I say, “I like the nose ring. Why don’t you wear it more often?”
He huffs out a small laugh. “Figured the tattoos were pushing the boundaries at work enough.”
“Exactly. You already have the tattoos… might as well just wear it.” Enzo tilts his head and smiles softly. “For whatever it’s worth, I say you wear it.”
His brow raises as he brings his coffee to his mouth, finally taking the sip he was in the middle of when I spotted him. Once he’s done, he says softly, “It’s worth a hell of a lot.”
