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“So sorry, sir. My apologies,

you are quite right. My world revolves around you and you alone. Nothing exists but you. I shan’t forget ever again.”

His laughter fills the car. Why can’t he react the way I expect him to? “Missed you too, Chloe.”

I scoff. “You wish. I think it’s more that you’ve gone one whole night without one of your girlfriends. Don’t try and slot me into their place. I have a little more respect for myself for that.”

A dark chuckle pulls my eyes from the street outside to him. Those black eyes, glittering obsidian, meet mine. Ah damn it, I’m wet all over again. How the hell does he do that? “More respect than a mutual understanding of one night of pleasure. No lies, no promises we both know we won’t keep. How is that not respectful?”

“First off, I’m worth more than one night. How is it respectful to not even truly know a woman before you fuck her? You can’t know someone after a few hours. I think it’s gross. While you might think the woman is fine with it, deep down she’s hoping you’ll want more, that you’ll think she’s worth more than one night. And what’s more, I’m pretty sure you know it. But you get to hide behind the fact you said the right thing and she agreed. It’s all bullshit. No, I’ll skip all that. I have two vibrators, I’m good.”

He has no response; satisfaction fills me at shutting him up. When we go inside, I’m surprised to find the top of the piano filled with six different sample paint cans and six small paintbrushes. There are also two different bags of takeout from a sushi place I love.

“I want to paint a few samples first before we eat so it has time to dry. Then once we’re done I can see which color I want.”

I nod and start popping off the tops of the cans. Enzo grabs two paint cans and brushes and goes into the living room. I take two of each and follow him. The colors he picked are different than what I thought he would go with. One of the colors I have is a maroon, the other a hunter green. He has a slate blue and deep ocean blue. We paint a large block of each color. By the time I finish with my two squares, Enzo is already back with the other two colors, a dark yellow and a red a shade lighter than the maroon. Satisfied, we take the time to put the tops on the cans and the small paint brushes in a paint pan.

He grabs the bags and I follow him into the dining room. Setting down the food, he checks his carryout box then slides it over to me. Opening it, it’s my usual order of shrimp tempura and a salmon roll with a side of spicy mayo. We eat for a few minutes without talking.

“Sorry, I forgot drinks.”

“It’s fine, no big deal. How did you know my order?”

A shoulder lifts. “I didn’t. I asked them if they knew your order and they did. Dante mentioned you two going to lunch at the restaurant before.”

I search my memory. “We haven’t gone there in like a year. You remembered it from a year ago?”

Another single shoulder lifts. “I have one of those memories. It’s one of the things that’s helped me get where I am today.”

His attention is on his food, and his cell phone. This is crap; I have gotten what I wanted. My rude words offended him enough to push him away. Except...it’s as if the sun has disappeared entirely. “What made you start a hedge fund?”

Enzo’s eyes are fixed on his phone. “I wanted something different. Are you done?”

I look down. Even though I have half of my roll left and only ate one of the large shrimp, I’m done. “Yeah.”

I start packing up the remnants of the food and toss it in the trash. Enzo has left the room; I find him in the living room studying the dried paint blocks. “I think I’ll wait until we meet with the architect on Monday. I don’t like the dark blue is all I know for sure.”

“Okay. Should I call in an interior designer for this? I’m—”

A firm shake of his head. “I’m tired of interior designers. I don’t want someone coming in, at least not yet. If it gets to the point I’m not happy with it, I’ll call someone in.”

He’s not even looking at me. I’m frustrated with him, and with myself. “Enzo, look, I get that there’s a...I don’t know, chemistry or some sort of attraction or whatever, but it’s not—I don’t want to get involved with anyone, and you and me, let’s face it, it would be a disaster.”

Oh shit, it’s back the heat is scorching me from the inside out. The asshole knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Anyone at all? Because you hate men. Why is that exactly?”

“I don’t hate men. I simply have yet to meet more than a handful that weren’t complete and utter fuckers.”

“Because your dad left you and your mother, and your grandfather, despite owning half of Boston, didn’t help your mother leaving you both homeless. Two men screw you over and the rest of the male population has to pay for their sins?” He’s edging closer, too close. I back up, intent on keeping space between us.

“Oh please, it was a little more than that, although they showed me you don’t need a man to be happy. I like my life the way it is. I’m not interested in changing it for anyone, it doesn’t matter anyway. In a few weeks you’ll get bored and move on to the next woman, a prettier one who makes way more sense than me. I’m not interested in turning my life or myself inside out for a storm in a teacup.”

Shaking his head, he backs me up against the piano. I have nowhere to go, then he’s against me and I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m sinking into him, my body at war with my mind. His hands go around my waist then lift me onto the piano; oh, this is much better. No, damn it. Shaking my head, I try to push him away, only my hands find his shoulders and cling. A chuckle blows over my neck and turns my bones liquid.

“A storm in a teacup? No, I don’t think so. Not by a long shot.” A sigh comes from deep within his chest. His lips move over my ear as a hand goes into my hair. His grip tight, he pulls my head back, leaving my throat open to him. Freak, oh god I’m a freak; hot, wet heat floods my core. Soft, firm, his lips press against the thumping of my heart at the base of my neck. Velvet wet, his tongue glides over heated skin. A moan comes out of me; actual words are too hard to form.

Enzo presses into me where my legs have opened wide for him, and instantly my hips buck up to meet him, desperate for more. He’s driving me crazy as his lips feather over my neck, along my jaw, please. I drive my hands into his hair, soft, silky, and pull him down to me. I want to kill him when he laughs against my cheek. Then his tongue glides along the seam of my lips. I gasp at what I swear is electricity skimming along my skin. When his mouth covers mine, the world around us falls away. I fall, further and further into his kiss, into him, nothing matters, exists except Enzo. Deeper, enough isn’t close to enough I want more, I need more, I don’t even realize how frantic I’ve become until Enzo’s hands catch mine and bring them to his chest. He tears his mouth from mine, ripping a cry of agony from me.

“I know, angel, I know,” he whispers in Italian along my ear as his arms tighten around me. The trembling slowly dies away and is replaced with shame. I try to push him away. “No, none of that. Settle, Chloe.”


Tags: Fiona Murphy Dirty Billionaires Billionaire Romance