Page 45 of Enzo
And then I walked out and went to find my dark-haired, blue-eyed obsession.
After a short flight from Sicily, my wife sat next to me in the car as I drove us to my beach home in Naples.
I glanced at her hand, the wedding band and engagement ring fitting perfectly on her finger. My own band matched hers. Of course, it was because I bought it, but there was no point in dwelling on the details. If I’d waited for her to show an interest in tradition, I would’ve ended up with a copper wire laced with poison rather than the thick, solid gold metal I opted for.
“Where are we going?” she asked, and I waved a hand to the building we were slowing in front of. “Is this the… honeymoon spot?” Her expression twisted as she uttered the last two words.
I shook my head. “That’ll kick off tomorrow. My yacht is docked down at the marina, waiting.”
I turned to look at her, her soft pink lips and her shining blue eyes tempting me in the darkness. Her close proximity was intoxicating, and with each moment that stretched, my control seemed to diminish.
She met my eyes, her defiant streak clearly shining in them. And fuck if it wasn’t a turn-on.
I pushed the button to lift the garage door and pulled in.
“This is our home for the night. Assuming you don’t kill me in my sleep,” I said, attempting a joke. Judging by her narrowed eyes, it fell flat.
“And if I do?” she questioned. “Kill you, that is.”
Her eyes drifted to my lips, then back up to my eyes, and when she couldn’t hold my stare any longer, her fingers started to fiddle with her rings. I wanted to feel them against my skin, around my cock, caressing my balls. Just like I watched her caress herself in her bedroom mere weeks ago.
“I’ll come back to life. After all, I need to see you writhe and pant under me again.”
Her delicate brow furrowed as she scoffed. “Again? What, in your dreams?”
Fuck.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s my English… you know what I mean, anyway.”
Luckily, she didn’t have the opportunity to protest and remind me that I spoke fluent English because I whipped open my door and stepped out. “Hello, Giulio,” I said, greeting one of my guards. “What’s the status?”
“It’s been quiet, sir.” I nodded. This house mostly sat empty, which meant there was hardly ever anything to report.
I walked around the car to open my wife’s door. She took my hand and stepped out, but I knew better than to think the conversation was over.
“Penelope, this is Giulio. He’ll be responsible for our safety while we’re at the estate,” I told her.
She tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Nice to meet you, Giulio.”
As we made our way away from him, she cleared her throat.
“By the way, your English is flawless, Enzo Marchetti. You’re keeping secrets, and I intend to find out what’s going on. Even if it kills me.”
I squeezed her hand, noting the tremor in her fingers, and led her inside.
“Vieni,” I said, guiding her into the hallway that connected the garage to the foyer. “Let me show you around.”
The grand tour didn’t take long, considering her mind was elsewhere.
“Your sister…” She tensed, her fingers tightening in my hand. “She’s sick.”
Her head whipped around, her eyes locking on mine. “What makes you think that?”
I stopped outside the primary suite, gesturing for her to look around. “You’d have to be blind not to see it. And then there’s the fact that your father keeps her away from everyone.”
“Not true.” She looked away, letting her hair fall like a curtain around her face. “She was at the wedding.”
“She was.”
