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And again, I’m standing with my mouth hanging wide open.
It's beautiful, all glossed hardwood floors with lots of windows and light making the space look even bigger than it already is. Several large cream couches sit in a sunken area next to the patio doors with a TV that could rival a cinema. There's a big mahogany dining table that must fit at least 16, grand chandeliers over every living space and a glossy staircase in front of the main double doors. It’s insane. I feel as if Architectural Digest's production crew is going to jump out any minute.
Benny stands at the top of the stairs beckoning me to follow him. I follow him through a few wide corridors, all dressed beautifully with end tables, picture frames of their family and different artwork. The artwork all has a theme, lots of Renaissance era. I think Renaissance? I say this whilst knowing nothing about art apart from the handful of art lessons I attended in secondary school. This house is big enough to have wings, how crazy is that? Imagine saying ‘Oh yes I forgot my phone, it's in the East Wing.’ Honestly, how the other half live.
He opens the door to a huge master bedroom, holding it open for me to enter. “This is Enzo’s room. There's an ensuite through that door. Feel free to clean yourself up. There should be a first aid kit under the sink and towels are in the dresser. I’m going to be downstairs, shout if you need me.” He saunters off downstairs already on the phone to god knows who.
“Thanks!” I shout after him.
I take a moment to look around. For one, his room alone is larger than my whole apartment, by a lot. It has a totally different feel to the rest of the house. while the rest of the house feels light and airy, this is moody and dark. The walls are dark grey, his bed is unnecessarily large with a black leather headboard and cloud-like white sheets. A projector screen hangs on the far wall along with two plush black sofas. It feels weird to be in his bedroom whilst he isn’t here but I’m nosey so I take a peek in his wardrobe. I step inside and the lights come on automatically, it's any girl's dream. All the wood is dark mahogany with a leather chair in the corner and a floor-to-ceiling mirror taking up the opposite wall. I can't help myself but I have a look through his wardrobe. Don’t say you wouldn't do the same. As I suspected he has an endless supply of suits. Shock.
I finish rooting through his belongings when I get jealous of his trainer collection and go to the en-suite. All black tiles with gold fixings. I take a look at the damage to my face. I’ve got a small cut just above my cheekbone. That’s going to be an issue for work. My hair is a bit of a mess and my top is ripped on the sleeve but other than that I don’t look too bad all considering. I root through the cupboard looking for the first aid kit. I’m quite shocked to see how organised everything is. Also how excessively over-equipped this first aid kit is. You could perform a small surgery with this. I grab the tweezers and begin making sure the glass is out, when I’m sure it is, I clean it out with isopropyl and cover it in a small white plaster.
I notice his gold cufflinks lying in a little dish on the counter and I don't understand why I find that so sweet. I can imagine him getting home, sliding them out and placing them there specifically before he gets undressed to step into the massive walk-in shower. His blue toothbrush sits in the pot by the sink, bristles worn down like he’s an aggressive brusher. There's something incredibly personal about being in someone's space without them and I barely know his man. I can only imagine what he's doing right now and I’m not sure I want to know actual details. Shooting aside, that was the best date I’ve ever been on. He isn’t what I thought at all. I’m struggling to find something about this man that I don’t like.
I wander downstairs trying my best to remember the way we came. After taking two wrong turns I find the staircase to find Benny downstairs sitting on the sofa flicking through something on the big flat screen. He's already got a selection of snacks laid out next to him. That’s all the invitation I need. I sit myself on the other side of the snacks and help myself to some cookies. Benny nods at me then throws me a can of coke. “Have you watched any Moretti fights?” He asks and I shake my head.
“There were a couple last night that I missed.” He says as the fight starts playing, we sit in a comfortable silence as we watch the fight.
∞
A loud fight scene on the TV suddenly pulls me from my sleep. I open my eyes disorientated for a second until I realise where I am. Thor Ragnarok plays on the tv. The film me and Benny finally agreed on when we realised the other is a Marvel fan. The house is dark except for the silvery glow of moonlight and the glow coming from the TV. I sit up quickly with a blanket falling off me. Benny must have put a blanket on me after I fell asleep. That's sweet. He's still on the other side of the sofa, mouth wide open snoring softly. I check my phone to see my battery is dead so I get to my feet and pad toward the kitchen to see if they have a charger lying about.
I stop in the open door frame to see Enzo sitting on a stall at the kitchen island, whiskey bottle in front of him. He's attempting to stitch up a cut above his eye himself and failing miserably. His eyes find mine almost immediately. They still have that menacing look from before. It doesn't make me want to shy away, oddly enough.
“I didn’t want to wake you, it's late.” He says running a hand through his already dishevelled hair.
“It's fine. I’m like a newborn, I rarely sleep through the night normally.” I pad over and start washing my hands in the large butler sink. When I'm done, I lift myself on top of the counter to sit facing him. “Let me do that, you’re practically butchering yourself.” I take some gloves from the first aid kit and his face in my hands, pull him towards me and take the needle to start the first stitch.
“And how do I know you’re not going to fuck it up worse than me?” He assesses me cautiously.
I catch his eyes through his lashes and cock a brow jokingly. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust.” His tone is much colder than before. Final.
“What about your brothers? You must trust them?” I ask as I push the curved needle through his skin, he doesn’t even wince.
He takes a pull from the bottle of whiskey carefully so he doesn’t jog me. “They’re the only exception. Trusting blindly gets you killed, it's just easier to not.”
My eyes drop down to his. I find them already settled on me, curiosity overshadowed by something darker. His gaze is so intense it feels like he’s stripping you bare and looking right into the eyes of your soul. I’ve never experienced anything like it. “Probably smart advice,” I say shifting in my seat.
He winks. “If it's coming from me, it's smart advice.”
I try to suppress the tilt in my lips but don't do so well. I start a new stitch, pulling the skin together as neatly as Mum taught. “So you trust but only if they're family.”
“I do but sometimes it’s different. I find it hard to trust they’ll make the right decision for themselves. I’m told I’m a control freak.” He blows out a breath of amusement before taking another pull from the bottle.
“I don't think it’s a bad thing if your intentions are pure.” I can't help but focus on his eyes again. I wasn’t close enough before but they aren’t just a warm brown, there’s greens and golds in there too. All mixed up like a paint pallet. I reckon the universe took extra time creating his eyes. They’re a work of art on their own.
“How do you know how to do this anyway?” He's obviously looking to change the subject and I allow it to focus back on my task.
“My Mums a nurse and my brother loves a scrap, unfortunately.” I shake my head, cutting the thread. “He used to come home in all sorts of states and when my mum was on shift, I would have to patch him up. I used to think he did it to hurt himself or maybe to feel something. I’ve never understood it.” I suddenly realise what I’m saying and go unusually shy, stripping off the gloves and laying them beside me. “Sorry I’m probably boring you, this isn’t appropriate first-date talk.” Before I can hop off the counter he grabs my thigh and pulls me closer so he’s sat between my legs.
“You are anything but boring.” He looks up at me, his eyes sincere. It makes him look younger and less formidable than usual. “And if we’re talking about appropriate first date behaviour, subjecting you to a drive-by isn’t exactly top ten.” He laughs and his breath fans over my face, the smell of whiskey and something else now I’m closer, petrol?
I find myself smiling at him and I suddenly become aware of how close our faces are. His lips are right there, I can practically feel the heat from them on mine. I could jump the gap to kiss him in two seconds. As the thought passes through my brain, he leans in and our lips touch. It’s light at first, his lips way softer than I expected. I bring my hands up to the nape of his neck and I run my fingers through the short strands. He deepens the kiss. My mouth opens for him on command like he has a remote control for my brain, it would actually make a lot of sense. The taste of whiskey invades my senses. His stubble rough against my face in the best way. His hands start on my knees, fingers splayed wide as he slowly slips them up over my bare skin leaving a trail of heat in their wake and coming to rest on my hips. His grip tightens and he pulls me off the counter and onto his lap so I’m straddling him. I gasp into his mouth and his arm snakes around my waist tightening me to his body whilst the other holds on to my thigh.
It occurs to me how small I feel next to him, his body envelops my own. It's such a strange feeling because I’m not just tall but I’m curvy. I've never felt this small and fragile with a man before. His hand on my thigh moves up my side, brushing over my skin on my ribs until it reaches my neck and his fingers thread through my hair. He pulls my head back, exposing my throat whilst his arm around my waist keeps me pinned to him. I let out a heavy breath as he starts leaving a trail of hot open open-mouthed kisses down my throat. His tongue drags over my skin and the heat from his mouth floods through my body, settling low in my stomach.
