DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

Frankie

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“Here, let me grab your bag,” Enzo said, reaching over me to retrieve the duffel-I’d hurriedly packed-from the trunk.

“It’s fine,” I protested, but it came out more forceful than I’d meant it to be. After all, I knew he was just trying to help, but everything that’d happened today had set my nerves on edge, and the last thing I wanted was to be coddled. At one time I may have appreciated Enzo’s fussing over me, but not anymore. I didn’t want to depend on him or anyone else, they’d just let me down.

“Sorry,” I said, “it’s just… I can do it myself, okay?”

“Okay,” Enzo said cautiously, eyeing me as I hoisted my bag from the back.

He led me up the walk to a small house just outside of Seattle. I was suddenly struck with the realization of how much we’d grown apart over the past six years. There was a time when we knew everything about each other, down to what kind of toothpaste the other preferred. I hadn’t even known he’d moved out of his apartment in the city, let alone bought a house. It broke my heart all over again knowing how close we had once been and how quickly it all fell apart.

“When did you get this place?” I asked as he guided me through the front door.

“Few years back, not here much though,” he said offhandedly.

He wasn’t home often? Was he staying with someone else? Did Enzo have a girlfriend I didn’t know about? I’d have to look into his credit card statements and see if I could find something. I’d forced myself not to use my skills to snoop through his life for the past several years, but I wasn’t sure I could stop myself this time-not with the possibility of Enzo spending his time with another woman.

“Stop,” Enzo ordered, interrupting my thoughts.

“Stop what?” I asked, thoroughly confused. We hadn’t even gotten up the small staircase to the main level of the house yet. I had no idea what I could have possibly done wrong already.

“I can see the gears turning in your head. I’m not here often because I spend a lot of time either at the hotel in the city or at the compound.”

“Oh,” I said lamely, I didn’t have anything else to say in response. I couldn’t argue that I wasn’t thinking about where he was staying when he wasn’t home. He knew me too well. We may not have discussed the finer points of our personal lives in the past few years, but Enzo still knew me better than anyone else. Time or distance didn’t matter-not when someone knew your soul.

“And no, I’m not seeing anyone,” he added under his breath as he took my bag and led me the rest of the way into the house.

“I didn’t ask,” I snapped back, instantly cringing at my sharp tone. It made me sound defensive and gave way too much insight to my actual feelings on the subject.

“You didn’t have to. I knew that’s what you were wondering. Here, you can sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch. Sorry it’s not much, but I don’t have a bed in any of the spare rooms or anything.”

“I can take the couch; it’s your bed,” I argued, only for the sake of my own sanity. Even if I stripped off all the blankets and washed them, I knew as soon as I got into that bed I’d be surrounded by his scent and I’d never get any sleep.

“Franny, please don’t fight me on this, okay?” He sounded exhausted. For the first time, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes-he wasn’t sleeping. Maybe this whole stalker thing was wearing on him more than I’d thought.

“Yeah, okay,” I relented.

“All right, I’ll let you get settled. I’m going to order a pizza,” he said moving to leave the room.

“Hey, Enzo,” I called out after him.

“Yeah?” he asked turning to me in the doorway.

“How’d you know?”

“Know what?”

“What I was thinking about…before,” I hedged, not wanting to come right out and admit I was curious about his romantic life, because I didn’t have any right to be.

“Because it’s what I would have been wondering if you’d said something like that to me,” he said with a tight-lipped smile before heading back down the hallway from where we’d come.

I watched his back until he disappeared around the corner. My nose started to tingle and hot tears pricked my eyes. No matter how angry I was with him, watching him walk away always broke my heart all over again. I was confused, angry even. What gave him the right to say something like that to me? He’d made his choice a long time ago. Had he changed his mind? He wasn’t allowed to change the rules on me like that.

“What are you doing?” Enzo’s voice came from somewhere behind me, making me jump.

“Dude, what the fuck? How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?” I yelled, swiveling around to give him a piece of my mind. But I stopped dead in my tracks. My throat was suddenly dry and I couldn’t swallow. He was hanging in the doorway. At least it looked like that. His arms were raised above his head, his hands resting on the top of the doorframe as he leaned into the kitchen. He was shirtless-again. His tan skin taut against bulging muscle. His jeans were slung low on his hips revealing a happy trail that made me anything but. Remembering my annoyance, I flicked my eyes back to his face ready to read him the riot act only to see an infuriatingly sexy grin gracing his lips.

“I’m making dinner,” I snapped turning back to my chopping.

“Is there a special occasion?”

“No. It’s been two solid weeks of pizza and takeout. I just wanted a decent home-cooked meal. I don’t know how you can eat the way you do and still look like…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish my sentence and give him any more reason to keep that smug look on his face.

“Look like what?” he pressed, and if I knew anything about Enzo, it was that he was a persistent fucker and wasn’t going to let it go.

“Healthy. With the way you eat, I’m surprised you’re not sporting a beer gut,” I said evenly, picking up the cutting board and dumping the onions in the pot.

“I work out,” he said simply.

“Mmm hmm,” I murmured looking around for the olive oil, finally finding it in the cupboard above the stove. “Jesus, seriously who puts shit above the stove? It’s like putting stuff in the cupboard above the fridge, only a giant can reach that high,” I complained straining to reach the bottle. Suddenly, he was at my back, one hand braced on my hip as he reached over my head and easily pulled the bottle down.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered in my ear as he placed the oil on the counter before stepping away. I instantly missed the warmth of his body pressed against mine. My skin broke out in goose bumps as I instinctively remembered another time when his body had been pressed against mine like that; except back then, there had been significantly less clothes involved. Bracing my hands against the counter I took a deep breath.