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“I’ll take the chair,” he said.
I tried not to feel disappointed. Enzo was being a gentleman, something that, weirdly, didn’t surprise me.
Enzo gave me another soft smile. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ve slept on worse.”
I returned his smile and then walked away.
I paused in the doorway of my bedroom, hand on the frame.
“Enzo,” I called.
“Yeah?” He looked at me.
“Thank you.”
His eyes softened just enough to make my chest tighten.
“Anytime, doll.”
I believed him, more than I had any right to. More than I wanted to.
I didn’t sleep.
Not really.
At some point, I got up for water and found him curled in the chair, one arm over his chest, head tilted back.
The light from outside caught the side of his face, casting shadows over the sharp lines of his jaw. His expression was peaceful.
He didn’t look like the scary capo with the big gun.
He looked younger.
Tired.
Human.
I padded over to him. Close enough to hear the slow, even rhythm of his breathing.
He shifted slightly, lips parting like he was about to speak. I flinched.
But he didn’t wake.
Just muttered something low. A name, maybe. Or a prayer.
I didn’t know why I stayed and stared at him like a creep.
Maybe because it was the first time I’d seen him vulnerable.
Maybe it was the fact that he’d stayed.
Either way, I watched him until I could breathe again.
Then I went back to bed.
Realized that I’d felt safe enough not to check the door.
Realized that I hadn’t even thought of it.