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11
ENZO
Iwipe my hand over the steam covering the glass mirror as my reflection comes into view. My tired eyes are evident, and the deep frown on my forehead is still there. It hasn’t moved since Wren stood up from the table last night and sauntered out of the kitchen so seamlessly, I had to remember whether this was my home or hers.
Readjusting the navy towel at my waist, I take a deep breath, attempting to relax my muscles before I push my damp hair back off my face. I was hoping a quick shower before our meeting this morning would freshen me up, but it seems I need a little more reviving than I thought.
I don’t know what the hell happened to us on American soil, but it messed us up something crazy. We’ve made that trip hundreds of times, and I didn’t expect this one to be any different, but fuck was I wrong.
Neverwould we have allowed anyone to live after drawing a gun or any other kind of weapon on us, but here we are, with the accused in our goddamn home.
My hands clutch the edge of the marble vanity unit, my knuckles whitening with the strength behind my grip as I shake my head in annoyance.
American soil made us soft as fuck. Weak beyond words for a piece of pussy.
Pursing my lips, I push off the vanity, dragging my hand down my face at the same time a knock sounds from the door to my right. I gaze in that direction, even though I know it’s locked and no one in their right mind would try to come in here right now, and a moment later, Vito’s voice echoes.
“Hurry up,Stronzo.”
There’s no need to respond when I can already hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. Instead I do exactly as he says, despite my preference to be the biggest pain in the ass they’ve ever seen. It’s no secret my brothers tend to have a stick firmly lodged up their ass ninety-nine percent of the time, and now is no exception.
But Matteo called a slightly earlier meeting time for the three of us so we can address the elephant in the room before our men arrive and we discuss the pressing matters affecting the De Luca family. So I know now isn’t the time to rile them up, even if it is my favorite pastime.
Especially when we all opted to hold off the conversation until this morning so we might attack it with fresher eyes and less jet lag, but I didn’t sleep very much. My thoughts were replaying everything that happened since the moment the Russians stood us up, but the part I kept coming back to, time and time again, was the taste of Wren’s sweetness on my tongue.
Fuck.
Unwrapping my towel, I dry myself off. Reaching for my suit hanging on the back of the door, I add one garment at a time until I’m looking at my reflection in the mirror again.
In my midnight-blue Brioni suit, a crisp white shirt underneath, and a dark blue tie, I look every inch the man I’m supposed to be. Who I was born to be.
Enzo De Luca.
Youngest brother and least likely to ever take the reins, just the way I like it. Although Matteo will always want both Vito's and my input on all things, I love the fact that the responsibility doesn’t fall entirely on my shoulders, as it does his.
Happy with myself, I grab my wallet, phone, and sunglasses off the vanity and tuck them into my pockets, except the latter, keeping them in my hand, knowing the mid-morning sun is going to burn my eyes the second I step outside.
Making my way downstairs, I slow my pace as I pass the room I know Wren is in, but I somehow manage to fight the urge to peek inside and leave through the front door. I don’t take two steps before I put my sunglasses on, wincing at the glare of the burning orange ball in the sky as I make my way down the stone path to the separate building beside our home.
We never wanted to conduct business in our home, but having another property off-site seemed to be causing issues with threats and vulnerabilities when in transit. So, we opted to construct another building on our grounds and conduct business from there.
It’s a single story, stone structure, with no windows and only two doors. As I step inside, I breathe a sigh of relief from the Mediterranean sun as the air-conditioning kicks in and the lighting dims.
All that stands in the room is a large conference table in the middle of the space, surrounded by multiple seats, while the far wall to the left houses screen after screen of surveillance cameras.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Anything that needs housing is handled at the warehouse on the outskirts of town. We might want to keep our business close, but we’re not so crazy that we would put anything incriminating right on our doorstep.
“What took you so long?” Matteo’s voice draws my attention to him and Vito already sitting at the table, waiting impatiently for me.
I pause on the spot, lips stretched into a grin, striking a pose as I playfully flick the ends of my hair that have crept free from behind my ear. “Sorry, boys, I was a little busy curling my hair.”
Matteo only glares harder as Vito tuts at me with a slight shake to his head, but I see the glimmer of humor flash in his eyes, and I take that as a mission accomplished.
“Sit the fuck down. The others will be here in less than ten minutes for us to discuss general upkeep and the shit that went down in New York, so there isn’t long for us to get on the same page about theotherissue at hand,” Matteo grunts, reaching for the fresh mug of coffee in front of him as he sighs.
I fight back the eye roll that's so desperate to come out as I take my seat at the table. Matteo sits at the head like always, Vito to his left and me to his right. There’s coffee in front of me too, but I don’t reach for it straight away, too eager to see what their initial thoughts regarding Wren are going to be.
