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“Like me?” He laughs, a genuine sound I rarely hear. “No. She’s worse. But I think you’ll like her.”

“And your cousins? How many do you have?”

“Only three that matter. Matteo, Rafe, and Remus.” He navigates through a yellow light, his driving as precise and controlled as everything else he does.

“Matteo and Rafe,” I squeak. “Please tell me they’re not the ones from—”

“The interview,” he finishes, shooting me a wolfish grin. “Oh, that’s them, Toy.”

Well… fuck. A flush creeps up my neck.

“They weren’t actually looking when I fingered you,” he adds. “Both of them were facing away.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay then,” I agree, trying to ignore the nerves dancing underneath my skin. As I look out the window, I suddenly realize the familiar streets of Georgetown have disappeared and we’re heading toward the highway. “Wait, are we going right now? I haven’t packed anything.”

“I packed for you.”

I blink at him. “You what?”

His thumb resumes its small circles against my thigh. “Everything you’ll need is already on my jet.”

“Your jet.” I repeat the words numbly. “As in… do you have a private jet?”

“Did you think we were flying commercial?” There’s amusement in his voice now, rich and dark.

I stare at his profile—the straight line of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his dark hair curls slightly at his collar. Of course Enzo has aprivate jet. Of course he packed for me without asking. Of course he orchestrated everything without giving me a chance to say no—because with him, I never really want to.

“How long are we staying?” I ask, my voice smaller than I intended.

He glances at me. “Through Christmas. Maybe longer.”

A cold weight settles in my stomach. “Christmas?” I twist my hands in my lap. “I usually spend Christmas with my parents. My mom texted last week, and I already told her I’d be there.”

His answering growl vibrates through the seat, and I feel it hum against my spine. “They don’t deserve you.”

The silence that follows his outburst seems to stretch into infinity. The only sound is the soft purr of the engine and the rhythmic click of the turn signal as Enzo merges onto the highway.

“No,” I agree, finally able to stitch words together. “But they’re my parents.”

His eyes are still on the road, but his jawline has hardened. “Then I’ll come with you to your parents’.”

I stare at him, speechless. Enzo, in my childhood home. Enzo, sitting at my family’s dinner table. Enzo, meeting my horrid parents… whelp.

“Unless you don’t want me there?” His question sounds casual, but I know better. There’s an edge beneath the words, a trap waiting to be sprung.

“I want you there,” I say quickly, and to my surprise, I mean it. “I just… didn’t think you’d want to come.”

His hand moves from my thigh to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, grip firm but not painful. “Where you go, I go, Toy. That’s how this works.” His thumb brushes against my skin.

My heart stutters, a traitorous little lurch I can’t control, and I find myself leaning into his touch, craving the certainty of belonging to him.

I still haven’t told him that I’m his, not unless he’s using orgasms to force the words from me. I meant what I told him two weeks ago; until he shows me who he really is, I can’t belong to him.

But every day, he gets one step closer to me uttering the words he’s longing to hear.

Chapter 41

Lorenzo