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CHAPTER THIRTY

Enzo

A month later.

“Everyone’s going to be late for school if we don’t find Mama’s car keys!”

I chuckle at the commotion downstairs as Matilda races past the bedroom, eyeing me suspiciously. I shrug my shoulders at her, the picture of innocence.

“Ugh, it’s Dad!” she shrieks, racing into the bedroom and catapulting herself at me.

Alessia’s face pops out of the doorway seconds later. A long-suffering sigh escapes as her face drops in realization, but her eyes dance with laughter.

“Enzo!” she pleads, grabbing Matilda by the foot and hauling her off the bed. “Please give the keys back.”

I grin at my girls, one who calls me “dad” exclusively and one who can only bring herself to use my name, for now. They’re so different, so unique.

Matilda, with her rambunctious nature and restless energy, is all Valentina, while Alessia is more serious and intense. She also has the driest sense of humor, just like Alexandra did. Yet, they’re mine.

Valentina appears in the doorway, slanting her eyes at me in mock annoyance. She juts her hip out, resting her hand there, and taps her foot impatiently.

“Enzo, I swear if you have?—”

“Oh, these?” I ask innocently, pulling the keys from Matilda’s jacket pocket. “How’d they get there?”

“What?” Matilda screeches, checking her pockets for more magical items. “How, Dad? How?”

“Girls,” Valentina laughs, striding over and snatching the keys from my hand. “Let’s go. We’re super late for school again … thanks, Enzo.”

“No one appreciates my humor around here,” I yell as they hurry out of the house. “No one!”

Luigi walks by at that exact moment, raising his eyebrows at me, and I grin sheepishly. He pauses in the doorway, studying my lazy, pajama-clad pose on the bed, and shakes his head.

“You need to work on your delivery,” he finally says with a smirk and turns his attention back to his phone.

Oh sure, now that his brother doesn’t want to murder me anymore, it’s all let’s-bully-Enzo-but-with-love around here.

I close my eyes and think about how much life has changed in the last month.

Ever since the yacht incident, Valentina, the girls, and I have been inseparable. I even moved onto the Rossis’ compound to spend more time with them, much to Luigi’s annoyance.

As for Lev Rossi, well, whatever Valentina said to him must have opened his eyes. She drank half a bottle of wine, locked herself in the bathroom, and called him one night, intent on setting everything straight.

Somehow, that prompted Rossi to reach out to me.

“Enzo.”

“Lev, it’s been a while.”

“Let’s just say the past is in the past and leave it at that, shall we?”

“Sounds good to me, Dad.”

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

It wasn’t an emotional conversation, but it was something. I leap out of bed, excited to get my day started. By the time Lenny comes home from dropping the girls off at school, I’m a ball of nervous energy.

My shaky hands encircle her waist, and I pull her into a deep, long kiss.

“Enzo,” she pants, pulling away. “What are you doing? I thought you had that meeting today?”

“Nope.” I grin, pulling her back to me. “I have much, much better things to do today than sit in an office with ten stinky dudes talking about murder.”

“I can’t imagine anything better than that.” She laughs, burying her nose in my sweater. I’m wearing my most embarrassing Christmas sweater, even though it’s almost April, and I can see Lenny eyeing it.

“You like this?” I ask, modeling the sweater as if it’s a bespoke suit.

“I hate it,” she says. “But it suits you.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” I say, shooting her a wounded puppy dog look.

“Oh my god, Enzo, just tell me what we’re doing today before you drive me insane!”

“We’re…” I stop, pausing for dramatic effect. Lenny groans, running her hands down her face in annoyance. I lean in close, pressing my lips to her ear. “…hanging out.”

“I want a divorce.”

“We’re not even married.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She brushes me off, ducking under my arm and heading to the coffeemaker. “I’ll marry you, then divorce you. It’s what you deserve for getting my hopes up like that.”

“What’d you think I’d say?” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “We’re going house-hunting?”

She makes an angry little sound and ignores me, busying herself with grinding the coffee beans. I know Lenny is dying for us to buy our own place and start a new life, but I don’t want to rush into it.

Well, I didn’t—until Lux sent me a listing for a beautiful powder-blue Victorian house for sale in an amazing suburb just across the bridge.

That kind of sold it for me. But Lenny doesn’t know that.

I chuckle happily and pull the beans out of her hands.

“Come on,” I tease. “I’ll buy you a coffee. Don’t be mad at me. You love me, remember?”

“Sometimes I question it, honestly,” she grumbles, but I can hear the laughter in her voice. I drag her outside and we slip into my new family-friend vehicle.

We’re both quiet as we drive through the city, lost in our own thoughts, dreams, and hopes. After almost losing everything, life feels wonderfully abundant with possibilities.

As we drive into Redmill, a quirky, lively suburb close to downtown, Lenny relaxes. She’s not the biggest fan of surprises, so seeing our favorite neighborhood probably makes her feel more comfortable.

Little does she know, she’s in for a huge surprise.

I park at Etta’s Diner, our favorite breakfast spot, and she’s out of the car before me, bounding up the stairs. When I duck inside, trying to avoid the early spring rain, she’s already seated at a table, browsing the menu.

“Hungry little monster today, aren’t you?” I muse, sliding in across from her.

“Someone kept me up all night, if you remember,” she answers, not even looking at me.

Oh, I remember. The intense, vivid memory of Lenny on her hands and knees in front of me, trying desperately not to scream in pleasure and wake the whole house, knocks the wind out of me.

I try to control the desperate, unhinged urge to bend her over right here on top of the pancakes, but I refrain.

“What are you thinking about there, my love?” she asks innocently, batting her eyelashes at me.

“Sausage or bacon?” I ask. She nods at me, completely unconvinced.

After we’ve filled up on too much greasy breakfast food, I suggest a walk, and Lenny readily agrees. The light morning showers have died down, and the sun is back out, making it feel more like spring.

We stroll down the streets, hand in hand, admiring the colorful vintage homes. When we get to the adorable blue one on Maple Lane, I stop and check out the For Sale sign stuck in the front lawn.

“Look, Lenny,” I point it out. “This one’s for sale!”

“It’s dreamy,” she breathes, checking out the ornate wooden details and perfectly eclectic landscaping. “But it’s probably a bajillion dollars.”

“I don’t know,” I say, flicking the wooden sign. “Says they’re having an open house today. Should we check it out?”

“Enzo, don’t tempt me.”

“Come on.” I pull her down the brick path, my heart already soaring. She loves it.

When we get to the front door, I make a big show of ringing the doorbell as Valentina peers into the windows.

“It’s empty,” she muses, leaning back into me. “They must have moved out already. Maybe we missed the open house?”

“Oh, rats,” I say, acting disappointed. “We probably did.”

“Oh well.” She sighs. “If it was meant to be…”

“It was,” I whisper, pulling the keys from her jacket pocket.

“How do you keep doing that?” She laughs, shaking her head, but not fully understanding.

I slide the key into the door, and she panics for a second until the lock clicks and the door floats open.

“No,” she breathes, whipping her head around to stare at me, mouth open, eyes wide.

“Welcome home, Lenny.”

“Enzo, you asshole!”

“Not how I want to be thanked, but from you, I’ll take it.” I laugh.

She races through the house, checking out the floor plan, marveling at the historical accuracy, and opening every closet. When we step into the backyard, she bursts into tears, and I have to pull her up into my arms.

“It’s perfect,” she sniffles against my chest. “The chicken coop, the rose garden, Enzo… it’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” I say softly.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to propose right now too,” she jokes. “My heart won’t be able to take it.”

My hand instinctively floats to the little round velvet box in my pocket, and she catches my movement. I burst into laughter and pull it out, sinking to one knee.

“Lenny, I don’t think I need to recite a poem for you to understand what I’m doing here,” I say, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice. “And you know I don’t get poetry anyway.”

She laughs through her tears, nodding along and sinking to her knees to join me. We probably look insane, down on our knees in the wet grass.

“But I get you,” I continue, searching her eyes for her answer. “And I think that’s all that matters. Can we do this? Finally?”

“Yes,” she breathes, falling into me and crushing her lips to mine. “Yes, yes, yes.”

We roll around in the grass, lost in the headiness of finally being able to live out our happily ever after. She straddles me, leaning in to kiss me again, and I almost rip her clothes off right then and there.

Thinking better about giving our new neighbors a show, I scoop her up and head to the house instead.

“The ring!”

“Oh shit,” I laugh, setting her down. I dash back to the grass and grab the little box.

Lenny stands on our new porch. The sun streams down, making her eyes sparkle even brighter, and I fall a little bit in love all over again.

“Get your married ass inside, woman,” I command, my voice low and dangerous.

“Engaged,” she calls back, skipping into the kitchen. I watch her retreating form, knowing I’ve condemned myself to a lifetime of insatiable lust.

If I don’t have her right now, I’ll probably implode.

She’s studying the kitchen counters when I meet her inside, examining the intricately carved wooden drawers.

“You understood the assignment,” I whisper hoarsely, sliding up behind her and pinning her to the counter. Her arms fall forward, bending her body in half, and she tries to swat me, but I grab her wrist, taking away control.

“Enzo,” she whispers, desire seeping into her voice. “We can’t do this here.”

“Why not? We own it.”

“There’s not furniture,” she groans as I press my raging hard cock against her. Too many clothes, too many layers. Need skin. Now.

“When has that ever stopped us before?” I laugh darkly, slipping my hand around to unfasten her jeans.

“You’re insane.” She shakes her head, whipping me with her hair. I inhale deeply, savoring that familiar, exotic scent of Valentina.

“Do you enjoy it?” I growl into her ear, shoving her jeans down. Mine quickly follow suit and she gasps as my cock nudges against her, throbbing and ready.

“Enzo, stop talking,” she moans, sliding herself back and forth on me. I let my head drop back, savoring the feeling of being desired by Valentina, of being loved so deeply.

When we’re both shaking from need, I slide inside her, groaning at the warmth and wetness that greets me. She slumps against the counter, breathing hard.

I pick up the rhythm, going slow and deep, stretching out the pleasure. My phone rings, lost somewhere on the floor, and she moans, turning back to look at me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I grunt, pushing in deeper. She starts to protest, and I know her mind just jumped into mom mode, worrying that something’s wrong with the girls.

“Fuck me hard and fast, Enzo Cavalli,” she cries. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

No need to tell me twice , I think as I slam into her. She cries out with pleasure and begs for more, urging me on by meeting my movements.

We go wild, feral, hoarsely whispering platitudes of love and pleasure. She screams my name when I sink deeper.

I feel her tightening around me, gripping my cock as her own pleasure cascades down into something more intense and euphoric. The smell of her sweet perfume and the feel of her soft skin on mine push me over the edge.

“Lenny, I can’t hold on…” I manage to choke out before I feel her exploding around me, cruising that high that I need so badly.

I let go as well, slumping on top of her and covering her shoulders with kisses.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she finally mumbles, laughing to herself.

“Which part, exactly?”

“All of it.” She grins, elbowing me off. When she spins around, she pulls me into a deep, tender kiss. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

“Good thing you just agreed to marry me then.” I smile back, bringing her fingers to my lips. She watches the movement, admiring the sparkling vintage cushion-cut emerald on her finger. “Did I do good?”

“So good,” she breathes, tugging me in for another kiss.

I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve this woman—this life, honestly—but I’ll take it.