Page 21 of The Masked King

“Are you really that desperate?” The question comes out of nowhere.

“I must be.” It’s a sobering thought. I’m not the person I was before I met Demi, and I’m not sure I even recognize myself anymore.

“Enzo?” Gio’s eyes are narrowed in my direction.

The faces come into focus around the polished table reflecting glasses of iced water, and they’re all staring at me as if I just announced my intention to fuck off the no-touch rule and fuck Nyx till she can’t remember her name.

No. If I’d said that, half of these men would be smiling so broadly I’d be able to see their gold molars.

Gio blinks, his expression returning to neutral. “Time to wrap up, gents.”

He stands, shakes the hands of each man in their designer suit uniforms as they thank him for his honesty and insight. It’s all bullshit. Giovanni always gets what he wants without making it appear to be so. While they accept the crumbs he tosses their way and congratulate themselves for cultivating a prosperous business relationship with a man who clearly has a special talent for increasing profit margins out of the ballpark.

I’m already at the door when Gio stops me. “Enzo, we’re not done.”

He might not be, but I am. I literally don’t have the bandwidth for business decisions, not today, not when I’m starting to question my entire life to date.

“I have somewhere to be.”

My eyes meet his, and I don’t get a hint that he knows about Bianca, although Gio is a pro at masking his feelings in the right environment. It’s only when he’s with Megan and the twins that the façade slips and my brother, the family man, re-emerges.

A client shakes Gio’s hand, demanding his attention, and I grab my opportunity to leave.

I get as far as his PA’s office when Megan reverses out of the elevator with the twins in a double stroller. She swivels the stroller around so that it’s facing the right way, and her face lights up when she sees me.

“Enzo! Where have you been? It feels like we haven’t seen you in ages.”

Her British accent gets me every time. It’s like a familiar perfume that conjures up a vivid memory, or a song from your childhood that your mom taught you to sing. It reminds me of Demi every goddamned time, because if it wasn’t for Megan, Demi and I would never have met.

“I’ve been busy.”

She pushes the stroller closer, leaning over the twins and saying, “It’s Uncle Enzo. Remember him?” She giggles, her eyes gleaming when she looks up at me. “You should come for dinner one evening. I’ll make a cake.”

Megan worked in a boutique bakery in London before she met my brother. She now has a tiny bakery of her own in Brooklyn, a blink-and-you’ll-walk-straight-past-it café, with barely enough space for two small tables inside, but a permanent atmosphere of frosting and glitter that is gradually earning her the reputation she deserves.

She gets me with cake every time.

And she knows it.

“Soon.” It’s an asshole copout, and Megan deserves better.

But she’ll ask about Demi in that soft voice she reserves for the children and anyone in need of a hug, and my heart will crack open all over again remembering evenings spent together, the four of us, drinking wine, playing cards, and laughing like we’d all won at this game of life.

“Enzo.” Megan’s shoulders drop. “I know you still miss Demi. I miss her too. But please don’t shut us out. We’re family. We care about you, and we want to⁠—”

“It’s fine.” I cut her off. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

I see the hurt in her eyes, and I do nothing about it.

Valentina rocks forward in her stroller seat and grabs the leg of my pants. She’s a mini version of Megan, with huge eyes and an easy smile. I crouch in front of her, and her brother Fiero instantly shrinks back in his seat, half-hiding behind the frame separating the two of them.

I point to Valentina’s soft toy, which looks like a squashy marshmallow. “Who’s this then?”

“Gabby.” Valentina has no confidence issues. She looks me straight in the eye and hugs the soft toy harder.

I turn to her brother. “Where’s your teddy, bud?” He sinks even further into the seat and lowers his eyes like he’s waiting for me to go away.

The instant I stand up, Fiero sits forward and studies me like I’m a creature he’s never encountered before. The strange uncle who never visits and when he does, he smells of liquor and aftershave.