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Because you didn’t think he cared enough.
Well, now I know he does. Because he’s a psychopath.
But then things became tolerable. Then okay. Then, dare I say, good? We had normal conversations, we had amazing sex. We laughed. He came to me when he needed support.
If I try to leave and anger him, what will it be like when I come back?
Is it worth the risk?
That’s the life-altering question, isn’t it?
Is it worth the risk?
Well, I’m not going to be one of those girls who sits around wondering what to do. I’m not going to waste time, especially not since he already knows what’s up. I may as well go out there and tell him. See what he has to say, what he wants to do. What kind of bullshit limits he’s going to put on me now. I already have set mealtimes. Bet they’ll get worse now he knows I’m eating for two.
But what if he makes me get rid of it? What if he’s so furious it could be Rafael’s child he won’t allow me to keep it? That has me sick to my stomach. I take a few breaths and talk myself down. There is no way I’ll let him do that. No goddamn way.
But is that something I have to worry about? I don’t think so. Enzo said he wanted kids. This is what he wanted. A wife and kids. He won’t make me get rid of it.
With a sigh, I get up and head out of my room into the dark and quiet house. I check Enzo’s office and the bedroom—both are empty. I go to the kitchen. Empty. The next place I head to is the theater.
The soft sound of voices sounds from outside the room, which tells me someone is in there. Loud bangs and thuds tell me the voices belong to the screen and not people talking.
I push through the doors and step in. Enzo is sitting in the same place I saw him the first time I found him here. He doesn’t look up when I walk in, so I go over to him and sit down beside him.
He’s awake, eyes on the TV, expression blank. He’s staring at the screen, but I don’t think he’s seeing it. He looks the same as he did last night when I found him staring out the window, as if he’s pondering his entire existence. Maybe he is. How the hell do I know? I don’t know a damn thing about the guy—not really.
I don’t say anything for a long time, just watch the TV, the same as him. It’s a movie I don’t recognize, something that looks like it’s from the 90s. All the actors who are now old and wrinkly are in their heyday.
“I used to watch this movie with my father when I was little,” he says suddenly. “Me and my brothers. It wasn’t often we heard our father laugh, but something about Joe Pesci put him in a good mood.” He shakes his head. “I don’t get it. The man isn’t funny in the least bit.”
“I don’t know who that is,” I admit.
He points to the TV when a certain man pops up. “That guy.”
I look closer. “One half of the wet bandits?” I ask. His brow furrows as he looks at me. “Do you prefer the second one? You know them as the sticky bandits?”
He huffs out a humorless sound, and turns back to the screen.
Okay, note to self: No Home Alone jokes.
“For years, I never wanted children. Not in this life. Knew it wasn’t worth it.” Not worth the risk? “But then my father told me and my brothers, who shared the same opinion on getting married and having kids, that family was everything. That he needed more Bramantes to leave his legacy to. My father took family seriously. A hair on our head was never harmed by his enemies. Not once.” He takes a deep breath. “My father made that declaration years ago, and it’s always been in the back of my head, yet I never took it seriously.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I question. I’m not in the mood to hear his life story right now. I’m cranky and tired—and I thought we were fighting?
“I thought I’d get all of this without having to take a wife and a child. Didn’t think I needed anyone. Figured if I had to share what my father built with my brothers, it would be good enough for me. But…” He turns to face me, his eyes tired. “I went to the club. Paid a hefty amount to spend the night with a random girl for some fun, and instead, I found you.”
“You found me,” I whisper back, trying not to feel offended by it. But I am. Because what the fuck? Sorry, I ruined your life, Enzo, but mine is ruined too. Even more, honestly.
“My whole life, I’ve always thought things were good enough. Job is good enough. House is good enough. Car is good enough. Sharing my family empire with my brothers is good enough. But when it comes to you, Jordan, nothing is good enough.”
My brow furrows, and I give a slight shake of my head because I’m confused.
He continues. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you today. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the space you needed. And I’m sorry I took you as a payment, when I should have been man enough to take the risk and admit I wanted you. But your father? He’s still lying to you. Still keeping things from you. He wasn’t good enough for you, Jordan, and I couldn’t let that continue.”
“So tell me,” I plead, my bottom lip wobbling. Why the hell do I keep getting so emotional today?
“No.”
