Uh-huh. I was in the car of the guy of my dreams, and my crazy head could only think about the fucking Bastian Saidi.
“I was thinking about the money,” I confessed, looking at my phone screen. “It’s already Saturday.”
“The clock is ticking.” He glanced at me. “Did it help that I brought you to the club?”
“Yes.” I relaxed. “I have less money now, it’s a relief.”
Enzo’s laugh rumbled softly, and a dimple appeared on his right cheek.
“I never thought I’d hear anyone say that.”
“It’s crazy,” I agreed.
I mentally ran the numbers. I had somehow managed to blow through nearly a hundred thousand pounds in a singleday. A hundred thousand. Enzo was right—it was insane.
All thanks to Club Montari. All thanks to the guy driving me home.
I bit my lip.
“I’m sorry if the night didn’t turn out as you expected,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Enzo made a surprised sound.
“Hm? Helping you out is enough for me.”
I nodded, the weight of the evening pressing on my shoulders.
“Thanks, anyway.”
“Then…” he paused. He turned left. We were approaching my house. “Tell me, was it what you expected?”
Yes. No. I wasn’t sure. I answered with a mix of all three.
“Money-wise?”
“No. I’ve found…” Pause. I was torn between telling Enzo everything that worried me and keeping quiet. The Hawtrey-Moore family. My boss’s case. Julian’s warning. Gina would help me make sense of it. I didn’t need Enzo, and yet… He knew me differently from my friend. I wanted his perspective, so I spoke. “Let’s just say I’ve discovered something linking the money to my boss’s case.”
I left out everything related to Bastian. The last thing I wanted was to talk about him with Enzo. God, no.
“I’m speechless,” he said, exhaling slowly and letting out a long whistle. His eyes flickered between the road and me, worry etched on his face. “Is all this safe? You’re not walking into anything dangerous, are you?”
“Let’s hope not.”
“I’d warn you to be careful,” he continued, his gaze softening, “but I know if anyone can come out of this unscathed, it’s you.”
A laugh escaped me, though it felt hollow.
“You have too high an opinion of me.”
He pulled up in front of my building, the engine rumbling softly to a stop. I reached for my seatbelt, not wanting the night to end.
“It’s just that I’ve been after you for a long time,” he said, his voice tinged with something that made me pause.
I glanced at him as I unfastened the seatbelt. The quiet intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand unshared thoughts, made me feel a rush of unfamiliar feelings, nothing I could quite understand.
“I guess I thought I’d spend more time with you,” I said finally, returning to the question he had asked me seconds ago. “I feel like the night has been too short.”
“It has been for me too.”
