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I know she’s right, and I hate admitting it. I felt like a tool for saying that shit to her. Seeing the anguish she tried to hide.
Fuck.
“Fine, what’s her address? I’ll apologize,” I grind out, shooting her a glare.
Gianna smiles brightly and gives me the address, telling me to fix what I did with her best friend.
Rolling my eyes at her switch of moods, I stalk out of her room and storm to the stairs, then down them, making my way toward the doors.
“Where you goin’, brother?” Maverick asks as I pass him.
“To deal with someone,” I growl, leaving it at that.
I don’t have time to deal with him or any of my brothers right now. I’ve got to go handle this and get the sight of Shyann’s face out of my head once and for all.
Or I hope I’m able to after this.
CHAPTERFIVE
SHYANN
The moment I hit home, I take my clothes off and jump in the shower in hopes of washing away those hateful words Enzo threw at me. If I were the type of person to cause violence, I would have kicked him. Maybe I should have. Then again, it goes against my belief in hurting another person.
Once I finish a quick shower—I dry off and put on a pair of panties and bra. As I start drying my wet hair, I hear the sounds of a motorcycle pulling into my driveway. My body tenses and I run the brush through my hair, unsure of why a motorcycle would be here. Who it could be? I already know the answer, but why did he?
Tossing my brush down, I pick up a tee dress, one that comes mid-thigh, and start for my front door. Halfway there, I hear him pound on the door.
I take a breath to steel myself against whatever he’s here to say. That and against how beautiful he is and how I thought something could one day be. Though I know, it’s stupid. Still, a girl can have hope. Right?
Slowly, I open the door and find him glancing around at all my plants. His head whips in my direction. “Can I help you?” I hope my voice didn’t waiver in hiding my hurt.
“Can I come in?” he asks, raspy and gentle in a way I don’t remember from our night together.
“Um, why?” I throw the question back at him, furrowing my brows and crossing my arms under my breasts. I don’t miss the way his eyes drop to my chest before coming back up to lock gazes with me.
Instead of answering me, Enzo moves into my space. His hands plant themselves on my hips and push me backward while he steps into my house. He walks us far enough that he’s about to close the door using his foot.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, steeling myself for whatever he could possibly be about to do. “I already told you at the clubhouse . . .”
“I came to tell you I’m sorry,” he interrupts me.
“What?” I whisper, eyes widening in surprise. He doesn’t take me as a man to apologize.
“Not gonna repeat myself, baby,” he murmurs, pulling me closer.
I uncross my arms and plant them against his chest. “Great, you apologized. Now you can leave.”
“I fucked up with you at the clubhouse.”
Without taking his eyes from mine, he guides me backward further into my house . . . like he knows where he’s going.
“What are you doing?” I demand, my chest rising and falling heavily.
“Making it up to you,” he responds, his deep husky voice sending shivers of longing down my spine.
“You don’t have to do anything.” I shake my head in denial, curling my fingertips into his shirt, holding on tight.
“Know I don’t have to, but you see, on the way over here, I made a decision,” War proclaims, sliding a hand up from my waist to wrap his fingers in my hair.
