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“That’s not why I want to get married. I want to get married because you’re mine. There ain’t a way for people to push you out when you are that in, Giovanna. You’d be a Viglione. If you took me down, you’d be going for the ride with me.”
“Again, it sounds like you want to marry me to protect your business,” I snapped.
He motioned me over to him without saying a word. On a normal day, I’d tell him to fuck off for gesturing to me like I was a dog. But today, with so much looming over us, I walked past Atheist and sat on his lap. The clasp of his belt dug into my bare thigh. He kissed me hard on the mouth, and his hand ran down my neck with a tenderness I didn’t expect.
“I want to marry you to make you a part of my business. You’d be mine.Trulymine. You wouldn’t belong to your father anymore. You’d belong tome.”
I kissed him back, forgetting about everything but his lips and the way they moved against mine. The world could be on fire, burning around us, scalding our skin, and I wouldn’t feel a damn thing except his hand on my neck. That was why I loved Enzo. When it seemed like life couldn’t get any more cold or black, he raised me until the sun warmed my skin and lit up everything around me. I knew I would fight it—and fight him—but I took each breath for him. For this.
I sat in silence, soaking him in, my forehead against his. I met his gaze. “If you can get my father’s blessing, I’ll marry you.”
Enzo cocked his eyebrow as he pulled away from me. “You really don’t want to get married, do you?”
I smirked. “No, I do. I just can’t without my father’s approval, and you know that.”
“You could,” he corrected.
“I can’t,” I said, more firmly.
“He ain’t ever gonna let me marry you, Giovanna. He hates me. You and I may not be enemies, but me and him are. He doesn’t want you with me, so how the hell do you expect me to convince him to let memarryyou?”
“You’re resourceful. If you want it bad enough, you’ll figure it out.”
Enzo fisted my hair and kissed me with a frustrated groan. “Fine, plan on it, babygirl, because I won’t stop until I can make you a Viglione.”
I knew that. I knew he would stop at nothing to make me his, to keep me. His touch sent a shiver from the tips of his fingers wrapped in my hair to the base of my spine, where his other hand rested.
“Come with me,” he growled.
“Where?”
“To the library.” He stepped toward the door, but spun on his heels and tugged my arm. “Now, Giovanna,” he commanded.
“But—” I didn’t want to go into the library. I wanted him to fuck me right where we were, away from prying eyes and needless questions.
“Now!” His blue eyes deepened into the intoxicating shade that made me drunk.
I followed him as if in a trance. The muscles in his back flexed beneath the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He didn’t even bother to buckle his belt in his haste, and it clanged together with every step. I looked around with a nervousness I didn’t like feeling. I was waiting for Marco to come around the corner. Maybe Sammy. Enzo pushed the library door open, dragged me inside, and guided me toward his desk.
Everything was so much different from the first time I walked into this library—my feet were bare now, there were no armed guards, and Enzo was at the helm instead of Silvio. When Enzo sat at the big desk and dropped his head back with a contented sigh, I slipped into my mind, still remembering that day. Silvio’s fat cheeks, gone, replaced by Enzo’s perfect features. Silvio’s bad attitude, gone...mostly. Our lives? Totally different now. Enzo hated me then, and sometimes he still did, but what sat behind that desk now was someone who loved to love me, even when he didn’t want to. I wanted to help him become the leader he dreamed of becoming, the figurehead his father never could be. I wished I could make him believe that.
“Come cross-check some more of these debt slips,” Enzo whispered.
“What? Now? It’s, like, four in the morning.”
“Can you ever just do what I ask?” He wiped his chin, leaving his hand to hover over it. He looked strong. Powerful. And it made me want to be fucking weak.
I rolled my eyes and dropped my elbows to the desk like I had earlier. I picked up several slips, a pen, and went to work. A quick motion of the pen was all it took to mark the ones that were paid. I picked up the next one, but before I could drop my eyes to the logbook, Enzo’s hand crept up my thigh with an electric touch. I tried to focus on the symbols and numbers, but he shoved his knee between my legs, spreading my thighs in a rough motion and distracting me. His hands were on me. One moved down the curve of my spine as the other tugged my shorts aside and rubbed between my legs. I tried to control the desperate whimpers. I wanted him so damn bad.
I had dreamed of this exact moment, bent over Silvio’s—well, Enzo’s—desk. I had never wanted anything more, but I had to keep myself in control. If he knew how badly I wanted it, he’d withhold all of it. I’d get nothing.
“Don’t stop working,” he commanded as he hooked his hands into my waistband and pulled down my shorts. I let them fall to the floor and kicked them away, and his hand grazed my ass.
“Yes, sir,” I said with a mocking salute. Playing it cool was clearly not my strong suit.
He groaned. “I kind of liked you calling me sir.”
“Don’t expect it,” I said as I marked another debt slip. “Sir.”
