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“You can’t choke every man who looks at me,” I reminded Enzo, then peered at Pablo as he held his throat. “But you are kind of an asshole. And Isabella deserves better.” I stepped forward. “So,” I began, nearly snarling, and my protective instincts kicked in, “if you don’t want these guys killing you in your sleep tonight, I suggest you apologize to Isabella and then leave.”
Pablo backed up, bumping into Alessandro, who did some ridiculous but cute kind of growl, and then Pablo took off after Isabella.
Enzo spun me around, clearly not giving a damn we weren’t alone, pinning me against his chest. His brows slanted as he held the sides of my arms. “What you said ... that was hot as fuck.” Then he bent forward and captured my lips with a searing kiss.
But seconds later, his mother interrupted our moment. “Lorenzo Costa, what do you think you’re doing?”
Enzo took his sweet time peeling his mouth away from mine, and then he released my arms to face her. “Is Izzy okay?” he asked instead of acknowledging his mother’s question, and I knew my cheeks had to match my dress.
“I highly doubt it, since from the sounds of it, Pablo is threatening to break up with her because of her crazy family.” She cut her hands in the air and began yelling at him in Italian.
Hudson looked at me and shrugged, and oh ... Hudson. It just dawned on me we’d yet to say hi, and the last time I saw him was in his office where we’d been exchanging banter six years ago before Enzo had kicked him out.
He nodded a small hello as if registering the same thought himself, and then he tipped his head to the side, suggesting we leave since this seemed to be a family fight.
We stepped out onto a balcony just off the dining room, and I spied two guards down below, walking the perimeter of the property near the water.
“You remember me?” I asked Hudson as he grabbed hold of the railing, and his eyes went to the cloudy sky that hid the last bit of sunlight as night loomed in the distance.
“I do.” He looked at me from over his shoulder. “I also know you’re the woman who’s been driving Enzo nuts the last two years in Charlotte.”
“Have I now?” I chuckled. “Why do I feel like that’s a guess? I doubt Enzo would tell anyone that.” Well, would he?
“They’re Constantine’s words. But Enzo talks to his brothers regularly.”
Oh. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised by that. Maybe it was the fact he never told me they had heart-to-heart talks like I did with Natalia.
“Sorry about your ex. I heard he was the cause for this morning’s scare.” He let go of the railing, fully facing me.
“Yeah, I’m still not sure how to wrap my head around that. He’s my daughter’s father, but you saw Enzo with Pablo just now ... I don’t know what he’ll do to—”
“He won’t. I’m sure he wants to, though,” he cut me off. “But hurting your daughter’s father would hurt your daughter. And from what Constantine’s said, Enzo loves that little girl like she’s his own. He’d never do anything to hurt her. Or you.”
I wanted to believe him. But did he not see just how quickly Enzo had gone overboard in choking Pablo?
“Pablo deserved that,” Hudson said, and I was beginning to wonder if I was truly that easy to read. Did I have a thought bubble over my head? “Pablo’s on something. High as a kite.”
“Wait, really? How could you tell?”
“Pupils blown and stupidly honest.”
Right. Wow. “Well, I suppose he did more than meditate in the pool house.”
“Bella has horrible taste in men.”
“Bella, huh?” I stared at him with curiosity. “I’ve never heard anyone call her that.”
The side of his lip hitched as if fighting a smile, but instead, he shrugged.
“You know,” I began, unable to stop myself, “my brother-in-law was the only one to call my sister Talia. And now they’re married. Maybe—”
“That’s a bit of a stretch,” he interrupted, smiling now. “And no, she’s too young for me.” He slid a finger beneath his chin. “Don’t have a death wish, either.”
“Fair enough.” I peeked back through the french doors into the dining room, but it was empty now. Maybe the guys had gone after Isabella to apologize? I doubted it was to stop Pablo from leaving. “How’d you meet the Costa family?”
“I moved from Texas to New York when I was sixteen. I met Constantine in high school, and we became friends.”
“You’re the same age?” It was hard for me to imagine Hudson over forty, but then I remembered the brief timeline Enzo had provided, so I supposed it made sense.
