Page 47 of Bellini Bound

Shaking off the total embarrassment of the brief encounter with my husband, I went back to cooking, praying the whole time that someday this would get easier, though I was not foolish enough to believe it was possible.

Who knew you could get cabin fever in a dwelling this size, but here I was, ready to climb the walls as the days dragged on.

Enzo had never explicitly said that I couldn’t leave, but he also hadn’t been forthcoming about the mysterious security threat that had brought him back to the mansion. So it stood to reason that I might be a little hesitant to venture outside the gates, which on my darkest days had felt designed more to keep me in than intruders out.

And while people might look at my size and assume that I lived a sedentary lifestyle, I couldn’t stand to sit around and do nothing. When I’d worked in the ER, I was on my feet for twelve hours straight, constantly on the move. My body craved a level of activity it wasn’t receiving, and if I didn’t get some exercise in soon, I might actually lose my mind.

Since I didn’t own formal workout clothes, I was forced to improvise. Electing to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting tank top, I made my way to the home gym located on the first floor.

But my steps slowed when I heard loud, heavy metal music pouring from the open door to the room that served as our personal fitness center. Creeping closer, I peeked inside and about damn near swallowed my tongue.

Enzo was in there, his shirtless torso slick with sweat as he used only his arms to heft his massive frame even with a metal bar over and over. I was practically mesmerized, watching the muscles of his back twist and bunch, my gaze trailing lower to the twin dimples resting above the waistband of his black athletic shorts.

My first thought should have been that he was going to rip his stitches open, but instead, I found myself wondering if he was strong enough to lift his own body weight, maybe he was capable of lifting mine without getting a hernia.

Suddenly, I was assaulted with images of a different kind of workout that would leave us both sweaty and breathless.

“Allison.”

Lost in my sexy daydream, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the husky rasp of my name.

Willing my racing heart to settle and the flush in my cheeks to dissipate, I locked eyes with Enzo from across the room. His feet were back on solid ground as he ran a towel over his face.

“S-sorry.” I stumbled over the simple apology. “I didn’t realize you were in here. I can come back later.”

Backing away, I didn’t make it two steps in my retreat before he called out, “I was on my way out anyway. The room is yours.”

“Oh. Um, thanks.”

Enzo grabbed his phone from a padded bench and pressed a button that silenced the music. Then he was moving in my direction, and God help me, I could barely breathe as his masculine scent washed over me when he squeezed past where I stood on the narrow threshold.

Then he was gone, taking the brain-clouding pheromones he produced with him, and I let out a frustrated groan.

Why in the world couldn’t I shake this physical attraction to a man that, by all rights, I hated?

“More mimosas, ladies?”

“God, yes.” I handed my empty champagne flute to the waiter in exchange for a full one.

Summer politely declined before turning to me with a laugh. “Cohabitation not going well?”

I shot her a glare. “This is the first time I’ve left the house in two weeks. Don’t ruin it for me.”

She held up both hands. “Sorry. Just thought you might need to vent, given how fast you’re sucking down the alcohol at 11 AM.”

Groaning, I let my head fall back. “He’s there. All. The. Time.”

My brunch companion snickered. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s generally how it works in a marriage.”

“Yeah, well, not our marriage,” I huffed.

“Owl-lee!” Serafina cried from her highchair, trying to get my attention.

Leaning over in my seat, I cuddled the baby girl, breathing in her sweet scent. “I’m right here, little love.” Pulling back, I sweetened my voice. “It’s just that your uncle is. Driving. Me. Crazy.” I booped her button nose, and her delighted squeals carried across the restaurant, garnering more than a few looks of adoration from fellow patrons.

Summer placed a plate containing cut-up fruit in front of her daughter. “Is he still acting like a jerk?”

I blew out a heavy breath. “No.”