Page 32 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

PENELOPE

W hen we reached the door of the guesthouse, Enzo stopped, but before I could question him, he bent down and scooped me into his arms.

“What are you doing?” I squealed when he resumed his stride as if I weighed nothing.

“Carrying you over the threshold,” he said seriously. “I should have done that yesterday.”

I let out a strangled laugh.

“Like park in front of your garage and then carry me in?”

“Exactly.”

I chuckled, but a part of me got all warm and gooey. “Don’t be silly. Men don’t carry their wives across the threshold anymore.”

“I don’t care what other men do, mia anima .” I really loved it when he called me that, now that I’d made a concerted effort to move forward from all our drama. And combined with the possessive way he was looking at me, the roughness of his voice sent electricity charging down my spine.

Once inside the cottage, he didn’t put me down.

Instead, he carried me like some absurdly romantic tourist souvenir, parading through the rooms with casual pride.

The front door opened into a hallway that led into a living room, where aged terracotta tiles stretched beneath our feet and gauzy curtains billowed lazily at the windows.

Wicker chairs and mismatched cushions gave it that charming, curated-by-nature look.

It smelled faintly of lemons and old wood.

We moved through a narrow archway into the kitchen—a cozy, rustic space with stone countertops, copper pots hanging above the stove, and a bowl of limes sitting ripe on the table.

The bathroom came next, all cool tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Finally, we reached the bedroom. Moonlight filtered through wooden shutters, casting slatted patterns across the white linens of the one, modest bed.

The walls were bare except for a single framed print of the Sicilian coast, slightly crooked.

“One bedroom,” he finally said, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “One bed.”

“I’m claiming it!”

“Good,” he drawled. “Now, I need a promise.”

“Don’t push your luck, Italian.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t remind me I was also half Italian. “Promise me no matter how mad I make you, no cats.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t bring an EpiPen?” I fluttered my eyelashes innocently. “That was dumb, you know,” I said, patting his chest.

“Penelope,” he growled, exasperated.

“Okay, okay. I solemnly swear I won’t allow any cats around you.”

“Much appreciated,” he retorted dryly. “I’d rather not die anytime soon. At least not until I get to taste my wife one more time.” My cheeks reddened, and he trailed a finger down the length of my neck. “You blushing is the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Clearing my throat, I tilted my chin toward the bed and said, “Now about the one bed?—”

“I already told you, nothing has to happen, but we sleep together.”

It would seem he was dead serious.

“It’s a hardship,” I said, sighing.

“It doesn’t have to be. It can be all pleasure.” His voice held dark promises, and I clenched my thighs together in response. He held me so close I could smell his aftershave, and I wanted to bury my nose in his neck, to get lost in him.

But I had to stay on track. It was important we be honest with each other, now that we’d agreed to give it a real shot.

Because, sure—I wouldn’t mind sex with Enzo.

He’d already shown me what I stood to gain from it, so long as I replaced my memories of the masked stranger with the man standing before me, but I didn’t want to give the impression that every wrong could be righted with sex.

I wanted us to take it slow, but not too slow.

Because I’d waited too long to get laid, and now that I’d tasted pleasure, I craved it. I wanted to try it all.

Inhaling a deep breath and digging deep for the courage to speak my truth, I finally said, “I want to get to know you better. To be… romanced.”

He shrugged, like it was the easiest request he’d ever heard. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

I opened my mouth when a sound interrupted.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Who could that be?” I pondered. We’d just left my parents, and I was certain they wouldn’t check up on us so soon.

“That would be our things,” he stated confidently, then made his way to the front door.

“Put me down, Enzo.” I wiggled in his arms, but he held a firm grip on me. Almost as if he were worried I’d bolt. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

He considered me for a heartbeat, two, then reluctantly set me on my feet.

I took a step forward before reaching back and slipping my fingers in between Enzo’s. He stilled, his grip tightening. He lightly smacked my ass and we headed for the front door. The door swung wide and a familiar figure stood on the other side, suitcases tumbling from his arms.

“Amadeo, what are you doing here?” was Enzo’s greeting.

He didn’t answer, his gaze falling to our connected hands before returning to look at his older brother.

“I’m your delivery boy. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

I dropped his hand and we moved to help him, all three of us fumbling to get the bags inside.

Once they were all stored in our temporary bedroom, I headed down the hall, Amadeo trailing behind me as he lit up a cigarette.

“No smoking in here,” Enzo yelled after him.

My lips twitched, fighting a smile. I’d noticed he hadn’t smoked at the wedding or the reception, and he hadn’t even reached for his pack while we toured Naples.

“You should quit,” I quipped, heading into the kitchen. “Before it kills you.”

He chuckled, but the sound lacked any amusement.

“Fine, no cigarette. A beer, then.”

“I’d offer you something to drink, but we just got here,” I said, glancing at the end of the hallway where Enzo was attempting to fit all our things into the single closet.

Amadeo rubbed his jaw. “Glass of water, perhaps?”

I turned my back to him and stood on my tiptoes, struggling to reach the glass, when Amadeo’s body brushed against my back.

“You’re really short,” he remarked, putting the glass from the highest shelf on the counter. I sighed and filled it at the sink, handing it to him. “But size doesn’t really matter, does it?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You could have killed him,” he growled, bending his frame so his face was inches from mine. “If that EpiPen hadn’t been handy, he’d be dead right now.”

I inhaled slowly, trying to think of a response, when Enzo’s voice cut in, cold and deadly. “Step away from her, Amadeo.”

He didn’t move, his eyes narrowed on me. “He’s my family, you try that again?—”

“Finish that statement and you won’t like how this ends, Amadeo,” Enzo warned, his words like a whip through the otherwise silent room.

Amadeo straightened and put space between us. His eyes were darker than the midnight sky and his expression was blank, but there was an aura about him that promised retribution if anything happened to Enzo.

I didn’t blame him.

“I didn’t know how severe his allergy was, or I would have never done it,” I said slowly. “I’m more sorry than I can say, and I promise you, I’ll never…” I glanced at Enzo, foreign emotions swirling inside my chest. “I’ll never hurt him again.”

“Very well,” he agreed, then locked gazes with his brother. “I believe her.”

Enzo let out a sardonic breath. “I’m relieved, fratello .”

Amadeo grinned. “I know you are. And now that we have that squared away, I’ll be in touch. Whatever is going on with Popov, I want in.”

Then, seemingly satisfied with himself and us, Amadeo turned and left without another word.

I tossed and turned for most of the night, an unsettling ache keeping me awake. Or maybe it was the warm body pressed against my back and the strong arms holding me.

My eyes locked on the window that overlooked the cliffs and the moon reflecting over the sea.

I wondered about so many things. It turned out nothing was as it seemed. Not my parents’ beginning. Not this wedding arrangement. Not my husband.

Maybe we’d gone about it all wrong.

My papà’s main objective for the past twenty-one years was to protect me from the Marchettis, but maybe there was nothing to protect me from. Maybe years of resisting this had skewed my perspective on… well, everything.

Slowly, I glanced over at my sleeping husband and my heart began to skip, confusing me even further. In the romance novels I read, heroines fell in love at first sight, and although entertaining, I found it improbable.

But now… I didn’t know. Maybe lust and love were closely intertwined, hence confusing us into believing there was something there that didn’t exist.

I turned on my back and lay staring at the ceiling. It was safer than gawking at my husband, feeling the ache for him—literally and metaphorically—and not knowing the answer.

I let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s troubling you?” Enzo’s voice startled me, and I turned to see his eyes shining like embers, focused on me.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been sighing for the past ten minutes. Something is troubling you, and I want to know what.”

That makes two of us, buddy . I inhaled deeply but stopped myself before I could release it and prove his point.

“I have a c-confession to make,” I stammered.

“Let’s hear it.”

I closed my eyes and blurted, “I messed with the engine cutoff link on your yacht and might have damaged a spark plug.”

“Or two,” he surmised.

My eyelids shot open, but he didn’t seem angry at all.

“I’m sorry.” The sides of his mouth turned up in a half smile, doing things to my heart. “I seem to say that a lot, huh?”

He tilted his head, and I took that to mean he accepted my apology.

“By the way, did you know that you have a reputation as a Casanova?” I rattled on, “I might have even heard the word ‘manwhore’ once or twice.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think you paid attention to rumors.”

“I don’t.”

“But it must bother you if you’re bringing it up.”

I turned to my side, facing him. He mirrored my position. “I don’t want a manwhore for a husband.”

His burning gaze licked at my skin in the dark, raising goose bumps in its wake. “I haven’t touched a woman since I first crossed paths with you.”

“Yeah, you said that, but there have been rumors.”

His lips twitched. “I know.”

“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.