Page 30 of Ruined By Blood
I scramble off the bed, acutely aware of how close he is, how little he's wearing, and how my body is reacting to both those facts. "I'll just... I should..." I gesture vaguely toward the door, unable to complete a full sentence while my brain is short-circuiting from the proximity of all that bare skin.
"Your room is the second door on the left," he says casually, as if he's not standing there practically naked. "Blue walls, white bedspread. Can't miss it."
I nod stiffly as I am frozen toward the door, desperate to escape this mortifying situation but unable to make a single step.
"You know," Enzo adds, his voice a low rumble that vibrates in my chest, "I don't mind getting dressed in front of you if you want to stay."
The audacity steals my breath. I spin around, anger flaring hot enough to override my embarrassment.
"You—" Words fail me as I'm once again confrontedwith all that bare skin and ink. I force my eyes to stay locked on his face. "I'm leaving. Now."
"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug, that infuriating half-smile still playing at his lips.
I turn for the door again, my hand reaching for the knob when his fingers wrap around my wrist. Not painfully tight, but firm enough that I freeze instantly.
The touch sends electricity shooting up my arm—not fear exactly, but something equally alarming. I don't pull away immediately, which confuses me more than anything.
"Sienna." His voice has lost all trace of teasing. "If you want my help—if you want me to keep you safe from your father and whoever else is after you—you need to start talking. Tell me what the hell is going on."
I keep my back to him, not trusting myself to look at him again. His grip on my wrist is gentle enough that I could break free if I wanted to, but something holds me in place.
"Why do you care?" I whisper, the question escaping before I can stop it.
"You were hurt on my territory," he says, but there's something in his tone that suggests there's more to it than that.
"I wasn't under your protection then," I point out.
"You are now."
Those three simple words shouldn't affect me the way they do. I've heard promises of protection before—all of them empty, all of them coming with strings attached.
"And what do you want in return?" I ask, finally turning to face him. "Protection always costs something."
Anger flashes in his eyes—or offense. "Not with me."
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe someone inthis world would help me without expecting something in return. But experience has taught me otherwise.
"I can't..." I swallow hard. "Not yet."
His eyes hold mine for a long moment before he releases my wrist. The absence of his touch leaves my skin feeling strangely cold.
"Get some rest," he says finally, stepping back. "But this conversation isn't over."
I nod, relieved and somehow disappointed at the same time. My hand finds the doorknob and I slip out of his room, the image of him standing there in nothing but a towel branded into my memory.
As I close the door behind me, I lean against it for a moment, my heart racing in my chest. I don't know what scares me more—the danger I'm running from, or the way Enzo Feretti makes me feel when he looks at me like that.
CHAPTER 12
The memory of those wide eyes follows me as I drag on a pair of black sweatpants. My skin still damp, I grab a t-shirt but pause before pulling it on. My tattoos—she'd stared at them. The elaborate ink mapping my life story across my skin. I wonder which ones caught her attention.
"Focus, cazzo," I mutter, yanking the shirt over my head.
I need to call Damiano, check if Sterling's made any moves. Two hours away, and I'm already restless for updates. I grab my phone from the nightstand and dial my brother's number.
On the third ring, a voice answers—but not Damiano's.
"The person you're trying to reach isunavailable due to actually sleeping at this ungodly hour," Zoe's voice comes through, sleep-roughened but unmistakably amused. "May I take a message, or is this just an Enzo social call?"
