Page 23 of His Little Angel

Enzo.

Everything in me—mind, gut—goes straight to nope. It’s almost funny. Before, my head and heart were always at war over this man. Now they’re united.

I let it ring out.

It rings again.

And again.

Each time, I stare at the screen until it goes dark. I don’t pick up. My phone lights up again, but this time it’s Veronica. I swipe to answer—she never calls unless something is seriously wrong. She’s competent enough to handle almost anything on her own.

“Hello?” Her voice comes through in a high-pitched, trembling whisper, like a girl in a horror movie. “Mila—Mila, thank God. I—I don’t know what to do. He’s not acting normal.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

There’s a shuffling sound, and for some reason I imagine her ducking into a corner. “He’s tearing everything apart. He’s like a demon, Mila. I’ve never seen anyone like this. I’m scared.”

I’ve never been more confused in my life. “What? Why would he—”

“It’s you,” she blurts. “He keeps saying your name. I think he’s losing it.”

I rub my forehead, trying to make sense of it. A kiss. One stupid kiss. One he already dismissed like it meant nothing. Why is he acting like it’s the end of the world?

“Veronica, breathe, okay? He’s just… overwhelmed. Or stressed. Or—” I trail off, because I have no idea what he is. “He’ll calm down. Just keep some distance. Don’t—don’t get too close to him while he’s like this.”

“But why over you?” she whispers. “What did you do so I know never to do it? I’d pee my pants if he ever got this pissed at me.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I snap.

In the background, something crashes loud enough that Veronica squeaks.

“Veronica. Who are you talking to?” Enzo roars.

He sounds… wrong.

I feel for her. I’m miles away and terrified—how must she feel? She’s probably thinking of quitting.Oh no.Please don’t quit.

“I—I was just—um—I—” Veronica can’t even form words.

“Mila,” he says, like he already knows. “Give me the phone.”

“No—sir, I don’t think—”

My chest tightens at the way she’s trying to protect me. I need to tell Enzo to pull his head out of his ass and stop scaring her—he won’t find a better assistant. I’ll tell him later, professionally. When he’s calm.

“Give. Me. The phone.”

There’s rustling, then a small yelp before the line shifts.

“Come back,” he orders.

My pulse spikes. “No.”

“You don’t get to say no to me,” he growls, completely unhinged. “You come back. Now.”

“Mr. Morelli, I’m not doing this,” I say—and hang up.

I choose myself.