Page 34 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

LUCA

M y youngest daughter stormed past me, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. She only ignored me when she was mad mad.

“Hello to you, too, Princess Amara.”

She still refused to look at me. “I’m going to my room.”

I sighed and was about to follow her when I spotted Penelope and Enzo. Oh, how the sight grated on my nerves.

Despite seeing them getting along.

Despite my youngest adoring him.

Despite my sons trailing after him like lost puppies.

“What did you do?” I directed my question at Enzo, because he was the only one who could have fucked up.

“Everyone seems to have a skibidi toilet idea!” Amara shouted from the top floor.

I dropped my head into my hands. I couldn’t deal with the truly bizarre lingo of this young generation.

“I don’t know what that means, princess. If you need to use a toilet, please do. We don’t need to announce it.”

“No one understands me!”

She stomped her foot, the little thump traveling down the foyer, and then shuffled away.

Narrowing my eyes on Enzo, I growled, “You’re going to pay.”

For what, I didn’t know, but whatever this “skibidi toilet” situation was, it was surely my son-in-law’s fault.

Penelope came to the rescue, of course. “It wasn’t Enzo’s?—”

“My office. Now.”

Enzo regarded me with a carefully guarded expression, but Penelope held nothing back.

“Papà, I love you, but you can’t boss us around like this.”

My lip twitched, fighting a smile.

I still remembered how skittish she’d been when we visited D’Arc—the school she’d studied at in the States until taking her studies remote to be here with us—for the first time, but look at her now.

I couldn’t help but be proud of her. She’d been slowly but surely spreading her wings, and it was a beautiful sight.

Maybe I’d done something right in my life.

“Can you two step into my office, please?” I gritted, forcing a wan smile on my face.

Penelope returned it, and I commended myself for my acting skills. “Of course, Papà.”

Enzo said nothing as we crossed the marble foyer and made our way toward my office at the back of the house.

Once inside, I went to the minibar and poured three glasses of brandy, handing them each one.

“I’ll take it, but I’m more of an umbrella kind of girl, you know,” Penelope rambled, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed at the brown liquid. “I’m guessing there are no pina coladas or mojitos here.”

“You guessed right, sweetheart.”

My gaze strayed to Enzo and shock rendered me immobile. His eyes were on my daughter, watching her with obsession and wretched longing that I was all too familiar with.

A deep breath spilled out of my lungs, but I couldn’t say I was surprised. Penelope had this calm, contagious energy that captivated those around her. Nonno used to claim she inherited that from my mother and Nonna.

“What can we do for you, Luca?” Enzo asked, his attention on me again. “It’s late, and we’d like to watch a movie before bed.”

Christ.

The little shit was putting me in my place. I didn’t know whether he had a death wish or deserved my respect for it. I decided it was best not to dwell on anything today.

There was enough shit going on as it was.

“What’s going on with Amara?”

Penelope swallowed.

Enzo answered. “She got a bit overexcited and stumbled trying to stand too quickly.”

“Lost her balance, basically. No big deal,” Penelope added.

“It did almost look like her knee gave out when she lost her balance,” Enzo amended. Penelope shot him a pointed look and he shrugged. “I’m sorry, mia anima . If it was my kid, I’d want honesty.”

Pen pouted. “She said she’d disown me.”

“You didn’t spill the beans, I did. Your papà will tell her so.”

My daughter nodded in relief, and a part of me wanted to shake some sense into her. She was supposed to make this guy work for her trust! Hadn’t I taught her anything?

“I’ll go check on her.” Penelope got up, put her untouched glass on the desk, and slipped out the door in search of her sister.

The moment it shut behind her, I pinned the bane of my existence with a death glare which he met with a raised eyebrow. Dammit .

“Any other questions, Luca?”

“You’re awfully cocky. It must be a family trait.”

“And you’re terribly annoying, which isn’t a family trait, considering none of the other DiMauros possess it.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“I don’t know. Was it?” he asked as he sipped from his glass, his bored expression briefly hidden.

“I don’t like you.” It was a fucking lie. The asshole was slowly growing on me. “I don’t like that my daughter is your wife. I don’t like that she’s living with you in that cottage rather than under my roof.”

He brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off his pants. “I won’t take that personally.”

“You should.”

“No, I really shouldn’t, considering you would dislike any man your daughter brought home.”

“But she didn’t bring you home, did she?”

“With all due respect, Luca, Penelope is mine, and nothing you do or say will ever change that. I’ll never give her up. However, it would be prudent of you to notice that it wasn’t me who set this arrangement up. It was you and my father.”

This fucker must have a death wish—one I’d be happy to grant for him.

Your daughter won’t forgive you, my mind whispered.

Enzo just stared at me for a moment, then smiled, like he knew what I was thinking.

“Penelope and I were innocent bystanders,” he continued.

“I honestly don’t give a shit whether my father initiated the business deal you two thought to achieve with this marriage arrangement, or you did.

Pen and I have come to terms with it, we’re getting to know each other, and we’ll make this marriage work for us.

Neither you nor anyone else will stand in our way. Capisce ?”

I had the awful feeling that I was doomed and both my wife and my daughter were going to laugh their asses off as they watched me go down.

I needed another drink.

“By the way, father-in-law,” Enzo said, all serious-like. “I want to offer any help you might need with running your business, legitimate and otherwise.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why would I need help?”

“You want to spend more time with Amara.” Well, shit.

No use pretending otherwise. It killed me missing even a second with her.

“Damiano and Armani are still teenagers,” he added.

“They’d help, but let’s be real—they’d need a babysitter more than they’d ever qualify as help . Penelope and I can step in.”

He was reasonable and generous. Fantastic . I stood no chance in this arrangement from the get-go; I was just too blind to see it.

I studied my son-in-law with begrudging respect, considering his offer.

Was I really about to take help from my supposed archnemesis? Apparently so. Maybe I was turning soft. Or, more likely, I was tired.

Hell, I might even like my son-in-law.

Dio, aiutami .