Page 9

Aria Bianchi

Enzo looked at me every day like he had a million things he wanted to say, but he always walked away before he spoke. The tension between us was palpable, and I wondered if we’d ever have a conversation that didn’t feel tense and pulsing with unanswered questions.

I hated him because of the things he had done.

He hated me because of my father—a father who I, too, hated.

But today was different.

Today, I walked into my room and found a bathing suit and an elegant, bejeweled coverup hanging from the canopy of my bed. A note rested beneath them, my name written in a sprawling script that must have been Enzo’s handwriting.

Jaimie will bring you to the beach at five-thirty sharp. Wear this.

No frills or additional words. That wasn’t his style. He only offered a demand that he expected me to follow.

Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed doing the opposite of what he wanted. I would have burned the note and refused to wear the outfit, but…

This was my first chance to build a true rapport with him, and I needed to take advantage of it. I needed to see beyond the monster and allow him to see me as something other than my father’s protege. I needed him to see me.

* * * *

When I walked down the boardwalk and turned toward a private, roped-off section of the beach, my eyes immediately drew to Enzo’s figure. With the sun behind him, only his large silhouette was in view, but there was no mistaking the brute of a man to be him. Standing tall and confident, he leaned into the table as he watched me approach.

When I shifted, and the angle allowed me to take in the finer details of his appearance, I found myself almost breathless. I didn’t know why the interest overtook me at that moment, but I had never seen him look like this before.

His button-down shirt was untucked from his dress pants, the top three buttons undone. He looked looser than usual, and his hair shifted with the breeze to drive it home. His eyes didn’t have the same hardness as usual. A dulled edge still rested beneath his expression, but I didn’t think that would ever fade. Not with me, at least.

Shivers went up and down my arms, despite the warmth of the summer evening.

When I noticed him taking me in, another bunch of shivers erupted. His eyes lingered on a few notable parts that the bathing suit and coverup showed. It wasn’t the kind of garment I would have chosen for myself, especially not with the amount of skin it revealed, but it certainly seemed to catch his attention.

Good. I needed positive attention if I ever wanted to learn anything about Enzo Rissi.

“It’s beautiful here,” I remarked, looking over the water where the sun shined in the ripples. “I’ve never been to this beach.”

He nodded and gestured to a dining chair that seemed to balance precariously on the sand. I took my seat, and he immediately followed.

His movements were just as stiff as usual, and I wondered if he tried to use his clothes as a ruse. Or maybe he didn’t know how to loosen up around me yet. Then again, I wasn’t sure I had ever seen the man relaxed in all the years he had pranced through the media.

“You’ve lived in New York your whole life and never came here?”

“Too close to Russian territory,” I replied with a shrug.

He nodded and reached for the biscuits in the center of the table.

“Is this a date ?” I asked teasingly. It sounded like I was trying too hard, but I put on my best smile and leaned forward. “I didn’t take you as the kind of man who would wine and dine his wife.”

He slid a manilla envelope forward. “Jaimie gave me some information that I figured you would be interested in seeing.”

Every muscle in my body went stiff.

“Jaimie… told you?” I asked hesitantly.

“Jaimie is working for me right now, so yes, she informed me of your request.”

I knew how this looked. It had to look bad. He already didn’t trust me, and to learn that I was trying to contact my sister, a known traitor… how long had he known? I wondered if Jaimie went straight to him after I asked her to check on Noemi. Was that why he hadn’t spoken to me over the last week?

“It’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I think?”

“I’m not colluding with the Russians,” I told him. His expression gave away nothing as a sharp breeze sent the corner of the tablecloth whipping in the wind. “I haven’t even paid her to go. I didn’t think she was already on the job.”

“She’s been paid.”

She’s been paid?

“By… you?”

He nodded and pushed the manilla folder even closer. My fingers trembled as they hovered over the heavy paper, full to the brim of information. If there was something incriminating here, it would ruin my chances of being successful. Enzo would never trust me. Not if he suspected I was working with Noemi.

I peeled open the unsealed envelope and knew that Enzo had already sifted through it by his scrutinizing expression.

As I began removing the documents, I found photographs of Noemi, some at Anton Petrov’s side and others in the company of unrecognizable men and women. She didn’t look sad. In fact, her eyes shone with carefree happiness.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen that in her eyes.

I was much more accustomed to anger and insolence shining in her expression. This… this was so much more than I could have hoped for.

I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. “She looks happy.”

“Keep going,” Enzo demanded.

I did. I went through more photographs—dozens more. Then, I found a single piece of paper at the back of the stack. I recognized her handwriting immediately. A sticky note rested on the top page in an unknown handwriting. Jaimie’s, I assume.

I contacted the subject and told her Aria wanted to ensure she was safe. She was alone, and she wrote a note on the spot. The subject was informed of Aria’s safety and given my contact information to follow up if necessary.

I peeled back the sticky note and began reading words that had come straight from my sister. She insisted she was safe. She was happy, and she was being treated well by Anton. She said she couldn’t discuss politics without meeting me in person, unable to risk information falling into someone else’s hands. But she said every effort was made to ensure Livia, Evelina, and I were safe.

I clung to each word as she detailed Anton’s grief after losing his friend, and at the end, she said that he was not interested in initiating a conflict. As far as they were concerned, they got the necessary revenge with Uncle Mauro’s death. She said that the only person he wanted to see dead was our father, and then she explained why in a brief summary of what had happened during their last encounter.

I reread the words twice.

I hadn’t known any of that. I had feared that Anton had learned her identity and taken her. I didn’t know that he had been protecting her.

“She’s safe,” I finally said. “And my father has been lying to everyone about the Russians to fuel our distrust in them.”

“What do you think about that?”

I think Dad has always been a hateful, lying, deceiving, backstabbing piece of shit. I think he will get what’s coming to him, and I won’t feel the slightest bit of remorse. He lies to cause chaos and distrust among our people, and he always manages to come out as the savior and the good guy when he’s the opposite.

I think he’s been sewing distrust between our people and everyone else who could one day take his power.

“I’m happy she’s safe,” I responded tersely.

He blinked, likely expecting me to say more.

“That’s all?” he pushed.

“I would rather talk to my husband about things that matter. You will never trust my sister because she decided to stay with Anton Petrov, and you’ll always hate my father because… well, probably because he’s an asshole and a heartless leader who deserves hatred. Regardless, I’m with you now, and I’d rather not dwell on our past when it will do nothing but separate us.”

Enzo leaned back and crossed his arms, and I wanted to scream when he showed nothing but cool indifference in his eyes. I clearly wasn’t getting through to him, and I doubted I would this evening. Not after the way we started.

I was beginning to think that no amount of pretending and scheming would get me what I wanted. What was the point in trying when he wouldn’t let me in?

“You know what,” I said, standing and shaking my head. “Thank you for the view and for paying Jaimie for me. But I would rather not stay in brooding company for my evening. If you’ll excuse me.”

I made it four steps before his hand wrapped around the crook of my arm. I stopped, but I didn’t bother looking at him.

“Stay,” he declared.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

I didn’t know what to expect, but his deep chuckle rumbled down my spine. “You want to talk about things that matter? Stay and tell me about yourself.”

I finally turned into him, and my chest brushed against him as I threw my shoulders back with a false bravado that I didn’t feel. “You want to know more about me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

The breeze blew his scent toward me. One of leather and something earthy. Something masculine and deep. Rich. Even though his house swam with diluted versions of that smell, I couldn't put my finger on the exact cologne. I wasn’t even sure if it was a cologne, but it should be. It was too intoxicating to belong only to him.

I forced myself not to breathe in the scent again as I placed both hands on my hips.

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m just a measly mafia princess, don’t you remember?” I shot back.

His smirk turned into a frown. “I don’t think you’d survive being cooped up in a house without a purpose.”

He was right. The prospect of being locked away for my entire life had always terrified me more than anything else. I wondered if he could read that or if he was guessing. “I studied law at Colombia.”

His eyes widened just enough to show his surprise. “You passed?”

I huffed a laugh. “I graduated top of my class. Photographic memory, remember?”

I tapped the crown of my head for emphasis.

“Why aren’t you practicing law?”

That… that was more difficult. “My father didn’t want me to sit for the bar, so I didn’t.”

“You don’t seem like someone who follows orders blindly.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I seethed.

“I’m learning,” he replied. “Alonzo holds back your sisters in similar ways?”

“Only when it benefits him,” I stated. “Livia and Evelina are younger, so he hasn’t had to hold them back much. Livia just graduated high school, and Evelina… well, she seems content doing whatever she does.”

“What does she do?” he asked.

I shrugged. “She’s into art and creative forms of expression. She mostly keeps to herself. I think she’s done paintings for commission in the past. She’s really good.”

Thinking about Evelina had the barely-suppressed sadness filtering through the walls I had built around my heart. The reminder of her was enough to know why I was here. Why was I talking to him? I needed to know him, not the other way around.

I turned my attention to a server in a black suit and tie who left two plates on the table and nodded his acknowledgment before walking away. I didn’t bother looking toward the dinner.

“Are you going to offer anything about your life?”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, repeating the exact phrase I had said to him moments ago.

“Siblings,” I said, considering the previous topic. “Do you have any other than Vito?”

His expression darkened. “No.”

“I know that your relationship is strained—”

“I’m not talking about my half-brother.”

He didn’t even refer to him as a brother , just a half-brother. As if the other half of his heritage separated him from the man who had turned on the Rissis years ago and sworn himself to my father.

“You grew up with him,” I reminded him. His stare remained blank. “I just told you everything about my own siblings. You and Vito shared a father. He may have some Bianchi blood in him because of Aunt Lia, but you have something in common. Tell me something about him.”

“You likely know more than I do since he’s been working with your father.”

I exhaled and rolled my eyes at the clear dismissal.

“Fine, then. Your brother is off-limits.” I considered another topic of conversation that could be at all useful. “How long have you been working for your uncle?”

He just stared at me, intently.

I repeated it. “How long have you been working for your uncle?”

“How long haven’t I been working for him is the better question,” he mused. “What about you for your father?”

“Never,” I replied immediately. “None of us ever wanted to be in a life of crime. We were all thrust into it, and we … survive, I guess?”

“You don’t sound fond of him.”

We both knew the “him” he spoke of, and I opened my mouth to confirm, but…then I realized… He hadn’t answered my question. Not really.

“You’ve learned a lot about me. But you haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

“No, I haven’t,” he confirmed.

“How about this? An answer for an answer?”

His eyes narrowed, and his eyes drifted down my body once again in an intimate way that had goosebumps covering my arms and legs. “I have a better idea.”

The predatory way his eyes drifted before locking on mine had my breath seizing in my throat. “What is it?”

“One answer for one piece of clothing,” he replied. “I believe that gives you… three questions?”

I had so many options. So many ways I could play this. Ordinarily, I would have turned him down and tried again later. But the lack of tension between us was new. Different. I didn’t know when it had faded, but I felt almost comfortable standing here and speaking to him.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and reached for one of my shoes. “I count five,” I corrected as I popped the buckle from one heel and then the other. I tossed them to the table and glanced at him. “You owe me two answers. Oh, and you’re wearing too many layers if we’re playing this game. I’ve already answered over five questions. I’m being very generous with that estimate, just so you know.”

He licked his lips before nodding and peeling off both shoes and both socks. Then, he reached for the hem of his button-down shirt and pulled it over his head, exposing me to a chest I had seen and admired once before. Up close, though, the patchwork of tattoos had me reaching a finger out and tracing them.

“Why a dog?” I asked, running my finger over a black tattoo across his chest.

“I had a corgi as a kid.”

“That’s it? Did your corgi have a name?”

“Muffin,” he replied dryly. I gaped. “Are you going to pay for a third question?”

I blinked. Then, I blinked again, wondering if I had heard him right.

I made direct eye contact as I grabbed the hem of my bathing suit cover-up and pulled it over my head. It dangled from my fingertips as I revealed more of my body to him than I ever had to another man. The bathing suit was nothing more than patches of material across my body, but I didn’t give myself a moment to feel self-conscious.

“Why did you go through with this marriage when it’s clear you don’t want it either?”

I expected my words to wipe the haze from his eyes, but it didn’t. He stepped closer, moving as if he lacked control of his limbs. He wrapped an arm around my hips and pulled me into his chest. I gasped as my soft body met the hardness of his. It was impossible not to notice the full length of him pressed between us, barely concealed by the hem of his shorts.

“Why do you think I don’t want this?”

“You… you told me that you didn’t do commitment. You said…”

I could hardly find my voice with him so close, smelling so good. God, he had no right to make me feel this way when I had spent my entire life hearing rumors of his brutality. But the man who had lived with me for a week—the man who held me in his arms—showed no sign of that brutality. I knew it lurked beneath the surface, but there was so much more .

He shook his head. “I don’t do love. I’m married to you because it is mutually beneficial, but we’re still married. I didn’t lie during my vows, Aria. I will be loyal to you as long as we are married. You are mine , and nothing is going to change that.”

I parted my lips to say something, but a sense of reckless abandon filled me. He was my husband , for God’s sake. If I wanted to kiss him, I could do that. Nothing was holding me back.

So I did.

I leaned forward and left a lingering kiss on his lips before pulling away. He didn’t allow me to go more than an inch before grabbing me and pulling me back into him.

Never in my life had I felt so much passion and desire behind a kiss. My stomach dropped, and the world around me became an afterthought as his lips—his touch—burned through me. I went loose and warm deep inside myself. My entire body fired up with the sensation of him merely kissing me, and my breath picked up at the thought of doing more and going further.

Maybe it would be okay.

If he could make me feel this way with a kiss, I didn’t even want to consider what else he could draw from me.

He pulled back slowly, and I felt the restraint in each motion. I exhaled a shaky breath, unwilling to admit how deeply that kiss had consumed me. How much I longed for more.

“Love is the only thing off the table?” I asked, my voice shaking in a way I didn’t intend.

“Yes.”

It was a relief that he wanted nothing from me. I couldn’t imagine betraying someone physically and emotionally, and that’s what would happen if we let this intensity grow.

I was entirely sure of one thing, though. Enzo Rissi was not entirely a monster, as no monster could make me feel like this.

I couldn’t get his taste out of my mouth.

And I couldn’t get him out of my head.