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“Why are you with Molly?” she asked.
“Serendipity,” I said.
“Enzo…” Hope dragged out my name in a way that would make my Aunt Mona proud.
“Just happened to walk by and catch Fabiano Genovese giving Molly a hard time. Gentleman that I am, I had to intervene,” I said.
Hope laughed. “You, a gentleman? Wait, don’t answer that but put Molly on the phone.”
I handed Molly the phone. She looked like she wanted to pummel me with it, but instead she glared at me as she lifted the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Hope…” She blinked, her face twisted. I couldn’t quite make out what Hope said, but it was clear Molly didn’t like it. “But, Hope…I don’t want him to.”
She blew out a harsh breath and then frowned, her forehead wrinkled with annoyance.
Fuck, what was it about this girl? She was full-on pouting. That shit usually pissed me off, but with Molly, it attracted me that much more. I needed to leave this girl the fuck alone.
I made no attempt to move.
“I know, Hope. But…fine—but you owe me.”
Molly sighed as she hung up the phone, then pushed it toward me.
“Let’s go,” she said.
She started walking and didn’t look back. I matched her step for step but didn’t try to talk. Molly might have pushed me into traffic, and seeing her little pissed-off face was enough of a prize for the day.
Fifteen minutes later, we turned on her block. Molly stopped in front of her building and then finally looked at me.
“I’m home. Thanks, Enzo. Not nice to meet you and I hope I never see you again,” she said as she gave me a little finger wave and walked up the wide concrete steps.
I let her get up two before I called out. “You forgot something.”
She spun, then looked down at me dramatically. “Make it quick. I’ve had quite enough of you.”
“You’re going to get a lot more,” I responded.
There were nine specific inches I’d dreamed about giving her over and over and over, but that could wait for the moment.
“What does that mean, Enzo?” she asked.
“I told them you’re mine. Now I have to prove it.”
THREE
Molly
“What does that mean, Enzo?”I said.
I tapped my foot on my steps, annoyed that I was so close to my apartment and away from Enzo, but he’d found yet another way to slow me down.
I couldn’t help but think of my poor grandmother. How many times in my twenty-five years had I cornered her with one scheme or another? The woman had always said I’d send her to an early grave. A piece of shit drunk driver had beat me to it, but I’d given it a good shot.
Hopefully Enzo wouldn’t be as much trouble to me as I had been to her.
“It means exactly what I said,” he said in that stupid deep, gravelly voice of his.
I raised a hand, at my wit’s end.