Page 73 of Enzo

“All those rumors…” I didn’t want to call him a liar, but I’d learned that there was almost always an ounce of truth amid gossip.

“Amadeo sometimes uses my name when he messes around with women.”

“Oh.”

“Of course, he won’t anymore. I don’t want any misunderstandings to lead to you feeling disrespected.”

My lips curved into a smile and my heart resumed its racing.

For him.

28

ENZO

New Year’s Day. New beginnings. A new chance to get it right.

I intended to get it absolutely right. It had been eight days since we got married—four days since I followed my wife back to Sicily—and it was hands down the best fucking thing I could’ve ever done.

We’d started scouting available properties, but we didn’t rush. This little cottage that sat on the cliff overlooking the sea was all we needed right now, especially because it made Penelope happy. I wasn’t in a position to ask for anything more.

My eyes found my wife on the swing on the other side of the terrace with an e-reader in her hands and a blanket over her legs. She must be reading another one of those books on how to kill your husband, except something told me this one had some R-rated content, judging by the crimson stain on her cheeks.

We were getting to know each other. We slept in the same bed, and while it was killing me that I hadn’t fucked her again, I was determined to let her take the first step. Taking it slow was the least I could do.

“I win,” Amara exclaimed with a huge smile on her face.

“You’re a quick study, littlest one,” I stated. “I’ll have to make sure I never play cards against you.”

Amara jumped to her feet and whirled around, grinning happily, but the suddenness of her movements must’ve been too much because she stumbled. I was out of my seat in a heartbeat, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Penelope ran over from the swing.

“Are you okay, Amara?” I asked her, scanning her face for clues.

“You can’t be jumping,” Penelope scolded softly, holding her sister by her shoulders.

“I wasn’t jumping,” Amara replied quietly. “And I didn’t fall.”

“Because Enzo caught you.”

“Don’t tell Mama and Papà,” Amara pleaded. “They’ll panic and take me in today. It was just a bit of clumsiness.”

I eyed the girl, my heart squeezing in my chest. It was hard to tell whether Amara’s health was worsening or if the treatments were helping. She was often pale and frail-looking, but the inner strength that shone in her eyes managed to fool you into believing she was all right.

“We should have you checked out,” Penelope argued. “Just to be safe.”

“I agree, Amara. We’ll make the quick drive to the hospital and continue our card game while we wait.”

She shook her head fiercely, glaring at both of us. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” my wife asked tentatively.

Amara pushed her away and propped her hands on her hips. “No, I won’t go.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Penelope reasoned.

“I’m sick and tired of doctors and needles. I won’t go.” She stomped her foot with a strength I hadn’t seen before. “My next appointment is in two days. That’s when I’m going.” She whirled around and started walking away, but then abruptly stopped andglanced over her shoulder at us. “And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll disown you.”