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It doesn’t matter that it makes me seem even more desperate because I brought it along with me, instead of intending to hook up, but that’s my prerogative. He has no right to hold judgment over me just because he wrestled my bags from me and shit fell out that he was never meant to see.
Out of my periphery, I see him rubbing his chin. He only does that when he’s trying not to say something that he really wants to say. It startles me how much I know about his facial expressions. Even when I want to thump him.
“I didn't say a word.”
“No, but the silence is deafening.”
A few more moments pass. “I really am sorry.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t actually care.” I can feel his eyes on me as I continue to look out to the traffic. “Let’s not make it a big deal.”
Wisely, he chooses to stay quiet.
God. The last thing I need is Enzo sitting with the understanding that I’m not satisfied by a man. It’s humiliating enough to have him see that I favor pink, but now I’m forced to sit in this close proximity for another two hours minimum while I stew over what an asshat he is.
I close my eyes and pretend to go to sleep.
You wouldn’t think a tiny car would be so comfortable, but when I lower the seat back a little, I end up drifting off. It’s not until two hours later that I open my eyes, with Enzo gently squeezing my shoulder, telling me we’ve arrived.
I yawn, not realizing how tired I was until I fell asleep, and have a stretch.
“What time is it?” I could just look at my phone, but it’s buried in the bottom of my purse. The only messages I’d be getting that are newsworthy are crazy texts from Bianca asking if I’ve managed to fuck Enzo yet in his car. The irony that we drove here in a two-seater isn’t lost on me.
“Just after five.”
“Shit,” I say as I exit the car, reaching back in for my purse, jeans, and the blow dryer that’s been kicking around my feet the whole trip. “We’ve got pre-dinner drinks at seven.”
“Plenty of time,” he says. At least his attitude has improved.
I booked a boutique hotel called the Haven Inn, even Angelo approved. Enzo and I have adjoining rooms and we can walk from the hotel to the winery for the ceremony.
My friend, Sarah, the bride-to-be, has a large property where guests can stay, but Angelo said absolutely no way. He’d have to send another three security personnel in Enzo’s place to cover ground that big. I really think Angelo goes overboard, but then again, in a mafia family like mine, you can’t be too careful.
Despite the fact I’m still annoyed with Enzo for what happened earlier, I do feel safe with him. I always have.
I try my best to shake off the earlier events, and after we check in and I reply to all the missed texts and multiple calls from Bianca, I have a quick shower and text Sarah.
Drinks tonight are at a local bar and by the time I’ve freshened up and touched up my makeup, it’s time to leave.
The hotel is lovely, the room more like a suite with neutral decor and a lovely balcony overlooking lush gardens.
When I meet Enzo, he’s changed into a pair of jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a tweed style jacket. He looks like he should be posing for a Ralph Lauren Polo commercial.
I try to keep my eyes in my head, yet again wondering why I’m suddenly having all these feelings resurface. I thought my Enzo crush was dead and buried back when I ditched braces and Nancy Drew books.
He gives me a lopsided smile as his eyes travel down my body.
I decided to wear some high-waisted silver pants and a matching crop top, with killer heels and a crossbody bag.
“You look lovely,” he tells me as I approach.
“You don’t scrub up too bad yourself,” I admit. He holds the door open for me. “We’re driving?”
He looks down at my shoes, then back up to my face, lifting a brow. “Do you really expect to walk in those?”
“Point taken,” I say as I climb in.
“Plus,” he adds as he comes around to the driver’s seat. “I won’t be drinking.”
