And Enzo turns to me, seeing there is nothing he can say to make me change my mind.
“Behave,” he says, kissing Liesel on the forehead like she’s his.
Chills of jealousy course through my veins. It was just a friendly kiss on the forehead, probably to try and persuade Liesel to be nice to me more than anything else.
Enzo looks to me, and I know he wants to kiss me on the lips to show Liesel just how much he’s taken by me, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he kisses me identically to Liesel. On the forehead, but he doesn’t tell me to behave. In fact, his eyes tell me to give her hell.
I smile. I know he wants the two of us to get along, but I can’t, not until I understand what Liesel means to him.
The men reluctantly disappear, leaving Liesel and me alone.
“Change into your swimsuit and meet me upstairs in five minutes. I’ll make sure Westcott has plenty of coffee to help you deal with the bags under your eyes. You want to hear my story. You’ll get everything you want. And you are in desperate need of a tan. Your skin is far too pale,” Liesel says.
I freeze, looking at Liesel truly for the first time. She’s already wearing a gold and black bikini with a see-through white sarong around her hips. She has a full face of makeup, and her hair is curled in thick blonde ringlets. Her hair was darker the last time I saw her
, but now she’s dyed it a lighter shade of blonde. And to top off her look, she’s wearing heels. Fucking heels! Why? We are on a yacht in the middle of nowhere, not going to the Met Gala.
But reluctantly, I agree. I haven’t swum in the pool or laid out at all since we got in the yacht. If I’m going to understand this woman, then I need to do it on her terms.
And the only way I can truly understand Enzo is to know more about his past. Enzo will never face the fact that he needs to heal as much as I do, but maybe Liesel will be able to tell me how to repair him before it’s too late.
16
LIESEL
I SIT down on the lounger looking up at the sun. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. This should be my heaven. Sunning myself on one of the most expensive yachts in the world. Instead, it’s my hell.
Because the only man I’ve ever loved is here with another woman. A woman he could love if he ever let himself love again.
I hate her. She’s competition. And she could destroy Enzo.
But I also love her for loving him. I can’t fault her for falling for him. I did. Enzo isn’t easy to love. He fucks up as much as he does right. But when he lets you into his inner circle, nothing can feel better than being protected by him.
Kai obviously loves Enzo. It’s easy to see. I understand the feeling. I’ve been in love with him since we were fifteen. And the one month I got to date him was the best month of my life.
My heart broke when I realized I loved him and he could never love me back—that’s Kai’s fate. Loving a man incapable of love.
I’m not much of a saint. In fact, I’m the opposite of a saint. I have a law degree, and instead of helping the innocent, I work for big banks ensuring they, and I, get richer. I like money. Enzo has given me plenty to live off of, but when the love of your life has been taken from you, you find other things to pretend you love to occupy your time. And I love the thrill of chasing money, pretending that fancy cars, high-end clothes, and big condos are what get me up in the morning. That somehow those things will love me back.
“What can I get for you, Miss Dunn?” Westcott asks as he stands over me.
I shade my eyes to see him. “Coffee for Miss Miller and a pitcher of mimosas.”
He nods. I’m surprised he hasn’t already brought me a mimosa. It’s what I’ve had every morning here so far as I sit by the pool by myself, with Zeke or Langston stopping by every once in a while to give me an evil look like I’m the bad guy.
They may have decided Kai has the best chance at getting to Enzo’s heart, but they forget, I used to be her. I used to be the best and worst thing for Enzo. And all it did was rip out my heart and make Enzo put up more walls, ensuring no one ever gets through.
“Is this seat taken?” Kai asks.
I shield my eyes again as I look up at the scrawny woman standing in front of me. She’s wearing a simple black bikini that looks like it came from Target, it’s definitely not designer. She doesn’t have any shoes on, and she’s wearing a baseball hat to shade her eyes.
She has jet black hair. I have blonde.
She’s a bit of tomboy; I’m a princess.
Her body is covered in scars; my body shines from all the plastic surgery I’ve gotten to hide mine.
We are so different, yet exactly the same. Both broken and hopelessly in love with a man who is more broken than either us. Because his emotions run deeper than either of us have ever felt.