Page 6 of Enemy of Ours #1

They really capture a moment that most don’t bother to see in person, face-to-face.

Like how her cheeks are flushed from the walk around the park, or the vibrant red ribbon tied around her eyes that hides so much.

I want her to uncover just for me, sliding the silk away and letting me see her scars.

She’s still fucking gorgeous with or without the jagged tissue around her eyes.

Her face is usually stoic and expressionless when she’s out in public.

She considers it a shield so people don’t look past the mask they see.

I can understand that. I wear my mask every single day as the Don.

My favorite moments are the small twitches of her blush-pink lips when something amuses her before her mask quickly falls back into place, but the camera always catches it for me to admire.

“Good work as always, Vinny. Take the rest of the night. I’ll be here for a while.” I wave him off with a flick of my wrist while gazing up at the apartment building directly across from me.

I hear the soles of his shoes click on the pavement as he walks away and wait until the only things making noises are the cars driving past and the distant sound of horns honking and emergency vehicles.

New York is never quiet, but this part of town isn’t like others.

Sure, it’s still loud, and it always will be while living in a city full of millions of people stuffed together like sardines in a can.

But this part of the neighborhood is more luxurious; only expensive cars drive past, women in fur coats walk their little dogs in high heels, and the diamonds around their tiny necks sparkle off the pavement from the streetlights' reflections.

What can I say? I wanted the best for my girl. She’s safe here. That’s all that matters to me.

I can’t seem to stop staring at her face in today’s photo.

Her lips are turned down in a deep frown, and her eyebrows are scrunched together, disappearing under her ribbon.

She’s upset. I’m betting on it. I’ve studied her facial expressions enough over the years to know by now when something is bothering her.

It could be because that fucking day of the year is coming up, but that’s a month away.

One more month until she’s officially mine.

My Iris.

My stubborn, beautiful, intelligent, haunted Iris.

I sigh, flipping the folder closed. Shoving it into my car, I shut the door behind me and take off at a jog across the street towards her apartment building.

The Cunnington apartments of Manhattan. Like I said, only the best of the best for my girl.

I nod at Jack, the doorman, as he gently opens the lobby doors for me.

I like that man; he never asks questions but shows his respect by being discreet every single time I come and go.

It doesn't matter if it's morning or night. He never says anything but one word.

“Sir.” He tips his head in acknowledgment and shuts the door behind me as I stride towards the elevator, loosening my tie knot after a long day. I push the elevator button and wait for the doors to slide open while unbuttoning three loops of my long-sleeved dress shirt.

Just as the elevator doors ding open, I pull my cellphone out of my pocket.

I press the penthouse button without bothering to look, and the scanner instantly recognizes my fingerprint, a green light flashing in my peripheral vision.

I stare down at my phone screen and log in to my security app, pulling up the second set of cameras right away.

It’s just after midnight, and her penthouse is dark; the night vision is already kicked on.

My eyes scan over every detail of her home.

I'm always on the lookout for anything unusual, misplaced, or a sign of danger, quickly switching to the next camera until I find her bedroom.

She’s sleeping.

As I approach the fiftieth floor, my chest relaxes, and I lean against the elevator walls, watching as each floor number illuminates.

The doors slide open quietly and close just as silently behind me as I walk into her open lobby, rounding the small table where she leaves her purse and Sofia’s leash.

The sound of clicking nails on the floor alerts me to my second favorite girl approaching.

“Hey, Sofia. Come here, girl.” I crouch down, trying not to laugh as she eagerly wiggles her butt and leaps into my arms just like she did when she was a puppy.

“Are you keeping your mommy safe from all the idiots out here?” I scratch her ears as I talk to her, and I will deny it with my last breath if anyone accuses me of baby-talking our dog.

Yes. Our dog.

When Sofia was six months old, I bought her and waited for her to undergo intense training to become the best leader and guard dog.

Then delivered her to Iris’s door without her knowing where the puppy came from, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist Sofia.

She’s a good dog that is very protective of her human.

That’s all that matters in the end. With one final pat, I stand up and place my phone, along with my suit jacket, on the small table while slipping out of my shoes.

Quietly moving through the penthouse, I pass the living room, heading down the long hallway of doors before stopping in front of the half-shut one at the end of the corridor.

I quietly open it more, slipping through, and immediately look towards the king-size bed that comforts my whole world in its layers of blankets and cloud-like mattress.

The glow from the moon shines through her windows, the curtains wide open so nothing obstructs my view of perfection.

I gaze at her bedside table and see the half-drunken cup of tea that she takes nightly.

It helps with her nightmares, and a bonus for me is that it knocks her out.

I’ve been able to visit her over the last few years without her knowing.

It really only started with a small dosage to help keep the nightmares of that day away, but I saw an opportunity the moment I realized she was sleeping peacefully all through the night.

I know her hearing is extra sensitive, so the first time I sneaked into her penthouse, I hardly dared to breathe in case the smallest noise would wake her.

When she didn’t, I took it as a sign I was meant to always watch over her.

I would look at her from the foot of the bed, quietly talking to her until I decided to sit next to her sleeping side and gently pull her into my arms. It was as if she had always belonged in them. She was a perfect fit.

“Mmm. I hate you,” she mumbles in her sleep, hooking her arm over my stomach and her leg over mine as she rubs her nose back and forth over the exposed skin of my upper chest.

“I know, Kitten. I’m not going anywhere, though.” I whisper back, hiking her leg further up my thigh until it’s around my hip and I can feel her warmth seeping through my pants.

My thumb smoothes over the skin of her leg, climbing higher as her heat seeps into me, her pussy covered by a tiny piece of silk but warming my cock through my trousers.

She doesn’t know it, but she dresses in my shirts at night.

She has a whole closet full of them, allowing her to smell me even when I'm not around.

The soft cotton fabric covers her perfect breasts, just thin enough for me to see her nipples poking through.

They graze my side as she shifts in her sleep to get more comfortable.

This is honestly my favorite part of the day.

I live and breathe for these moments.

A soft, warm, sexy-as-fuck body cuddles up to mine every night without her knowing.

I really need to give Inga a raise for slipping the drugs into her nightly tea.

Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be able to hold her in my arms and touch her body.

She’d put up a fight, knowing it’s me who warms her bed each night, but I love my kitten’s claws.

I never doubted for a second that she wouldn’t lose that stubborn streak of hers, even when her sight was stolen from her. She’s a fighter.

My girl.