Page 79 of The Devil

I nod quickly as I take a step deeper into the room. There’s so much luxury, I don’t know where to look first.

Cream leather couches stand by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a river and part of the city.

I move a little closer, but when my stomach drops and my head feels woozy, I quickly move away and walk to where Enzo has just finished pouring the champagne.

I once had alcohol at a party when I was seventeen. It was beer, and it tasted how I’d imagine farts would taste.

Enzo holds a glass out to me, and when I take it, he picks up his own and says, “Here’s to the rest of our future.”

Our future.

I sniff the glass, and when it doesn’t smell like beer, I take a tentative sip. A fruity flavor bubbles over my tongue, making my eyebrows lift.

Enzo tilts his head, his eyes roaming over my face. “Is this your first time having champagne?”

I nod, then take a bigger sip.

“Go slow. You didn’t eat much at lunch, and you’re small. I don’t want you to get intoxicated.”

“Okay.”

Just as I take another sip, Enzo says, “We’ll stay here tonight. There’s only one bed, but–”

Hearing we’re sharing a bed, I choke on the champagne and it sprays everywhere. Some of it goes down my windpipe, and when I start to cough, it sounds like I’m dying.

Enzo rips the glass out of my hand and sets both down on the counter, then he begins to slap my back.

“Breathe through your nose,” he orders.

I do as I’m told, and it helps to get some air into my lungs before I’m able to clear my throat.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse. I look at the mess I’ve made and dart around the counter to look for towels, but I only find a box of tissues. I grab a few, and when I spin around to clean the floor, Enzo takes them from my hand and begins to pat my chest.

“Don’t worry about the floor. I’ll have the hotel send up a cleaner,” he says while tossing the tissues on the counter and pulling me toward the restroom.

He switches on the faucets, and like an idiot, I stand and watch as he washes my hands for me. He even dries them, then he takes hold of my chin and tips my face up.

“Before you choked, I was going to say that even though there’s one bed, nothing will happen that you’re not ready for.”

My eyes lower to his chest. “Why didn’t you ask for two beds?”

“And miss out on the chance of holding you while we sleep?”

I’m not shutting an eye tonight.

I’m instantly anxious, and when Enzo takes my hand again and pulls me into the bedroom, my heart sets off at a crazy pace, and I begin to sweat.

“Get on the bed,” he says, his tone gentle but demanding.

I toe my sneakers off and watch as he lies down. When he pats the spot beside him, I reluctantly climb onto the soft covers.

Enzo’s eyes burn on me until I lie down beside him. Every muscle in my body is tense, and I wrap my arms around my middle.

For a few seconds, it’s quiet, then he says, “See, nothing bad is happening.”

He places his hand, palm up, on the covers, and I stare at it for a moment before I move my arm and lay my hand in his. I watch as his fingers link with mine, and the same tingles from earlier spread over my skin.

“Do you only watch those programs in your spare time, or is there something else you like to do as well?” he asks.