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I walk over to the car and lean forward. The driver already looks pissed. I can’t blame him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know a car service was coming. Can you record it as though I actually got in?”
“No.”
Ok. Sorry, dude. No need to be that rude. He’s looking at me like the saleswoman inPretty Womanwho thought Julia Roberts was a hooker. I mean she was. But I’m not. I open my purse and pull out a twenty-dollar bill and hand it to him.
“Hope that helps.”
I don’t wait for him to say anything else. I walk back to the car, where Afonso is standing with the door open. I slide in and notice the privacy glass is up. He closes the door before I can tell him where to take me, so he obviously already knows. I sit back and watch the blocks whip past.
I didn’t fall back to sleep after Enzo left in the middle of the night. I showered and got dressed. Then I headed home. I didn’t fall back to sleep there either. Both beds felt empty without him, and he’s never even been in mine. Now I wish he was in it every night.
We get to the hotel quickly, but it takes forever for our turn to pull up. Someone from the hotel opens my door, but I find the button to drop the privacy glass.
“Thank you, Afonso. I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Russo.”
I leave the glass down and accept the hand offered to me. I adjust my wrap as I head toward the door. Normally, I love to look around and see who I recognize. I’m nosey enough to wonder who certain people’s dates are or whether couples who can’t stand one another can play nice. But tonight, I just want to get inside. I don’t want to think about other people who have a date.
“Good evening, Ms. Russo.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the slimy voice. Fuck my life. He would be the first person I encounter. I turn around.
“Mr. Shapiro.”
“You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank—”
“My girlfriend always looks lovely.”
I startle as an arm slips around my waist. I look up at Enzo. Holy fuck. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Hottest man on the planet. I lean into him, so glad to have him near me to begin with, but even more so as Simon Shithead Shapiro gawks at us.
“You’re really with…”
Simon trails off as Lorenzo kisses the top of my head, then glares at him.
“Yes, Mr. Shapiro. Lorenzo is my boyfriend.”
“Boy—”
“Soon-to-be fiancé.”
I try to hide my surprise as his fingers press tighter into my waist. I look up at him again, and I see nothing but sincerity in his gaze. I loop my arm around his waist and forget about Simon as Enzo offers me a chaste kiss. He whispers to me.
“I missed you,mia piccolina.”
“I missed you, too, D.”
That’s the closest I can come in public. Enzo shifts his gaze back to Simon, and the man realizes we’ve caught him sneering at us.
“I told you to stay away from Ms. Russo. Maybe you didn’t understand me because you were so scared you were going to die that night. Let me make it clear to you now. You speak to my girlfriend as your lawyer and nothing else. You make sure every communication is professional. You don’t chat. You don’t get her alone. You don’t approach her. You don’t do a damn thing that might make a possessive and protective boyfriend like me decide he wants to chat with you. Back off.”
“Or what, Mancinelli? You going to threaten me in a room with a hundred people?”
“I don’t threaten, Shapiro. I promise. So hear me very well right now. I promise you will not like what happens if Ms. Russo even blinks when she hears your name. Who here is going to stop me? I know who you are now. I know who you owe money to, which happens to include my family. If I don’t deal with you, the Kutsenkos, Diazes, or O’Rourkes will. I wouldn’t mind having any of those three families indebted to me, so I might just turn you over to them. Unless you want us to collect what you owe tonight while you’re here, stay away.”
