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7
Annie
Ihead up the elevator to work the next morning. I still can’t believe Enzo witnessed me telling off my mom. No wonder he shot out of the hospital as soon as the opportunity allowed.
Wait… when did I start thinking of him as Enzo and not Mr. Mancini?
Probably about the same time he bore witness to my family drama and my niece’s birth.
The delivery of flowers to my sister’s hospital room an hour later was unexpected. I may have read the card more than once. It’s not my fault—the man has a way with words.
Thank you for allowing me to be part of your special day. Wishing you many years of happiness with your new bundle of joy. Your beautiful little girl is the luckiest baby in the world because she has the two of you to call Mommy and Daddy. Cherish one another.
~ Lorenzo Mancini
The minuteI step into the office, Jake grabs my elbow and guides me into the copier room. From his urgency, there’s clearly gossip to spill.
“Okay, what did I miss yesterday?” I ask.
“What was the dry cleaning thing?” he asks, his eyes frantic.
I wave him off. “Oh, some stupid bet Enzo initiated. I told him that his other assistants took his dry cleaning downstairs because he’s good-looking. He said I’d get the same special treatment, and to prove it, I had to see if you’d take my dry cleaning down for me.”
He steps back. “You were tricking me?”
“I told him it wasn’t fair. That you’d agree because we’re friends.”
He nods, waiting for more information. I don’t offer any because I forgot about the whole thing with all the excitement of yesterday. “Yeah, we’re friends… but you know you’re attractive, right?”
Jake and I have always been platonic, no underlying sexual tension between us. That’s what I love about our relationship. But we’re not friends who talk about our insecurities. Mae is the one who hears my rambling about the size of my thighs and my ass or how my hair will never do exactly what I want it to.
“We’re not talking about this.” I push past him.
He wheels me around again by my elbow. “Yes, we are, because if you’re going to work with Lorenzo Mancini, you need to know that you’re at his level.”
“Whoa, calm down on the pep talk.” I laugh.
He doesn’t. He’s serious. “Don’t play his games.”
I tilt my head. “I’m not.” The doorknob jiggles. “Great.”
I storm over and unlock the door, and a pair of dreamy brown eyes meet mine.
“Miss Stewart?”
“Sorry, I’m coming now. Jake had an emergency paper jam and needed my expertise.” I slide by Enzo, careful not to allow our bodies to touch.
“Please keep your private affairs off the office equipment,” he says behind me.
“It’s not like that.” I toss my purse on my desk.
He holds open his door for me. “I need to see you.”
“Can I take off my coat first?”
He huffs, continuing to hold the door open. “I suppose.” He glances at his watch and taps his foot.
I roll my eyes, throw my purse in the bottom drawer, and grab paper and a pen. “How sweet of you to be so patient.”
