Page 75 of Come Take Me Now

“Sorry, not sorry,” I tease. “I just can’t get enough.”

“I know.” He slides his free hand up my side. “Me neither.”

“I made you a latte,” Enzo says when I walk downstairs the next morning. He’s sitting shirtless at the breakfast table with papers spread out in front of him and wearing those glasses again.

I walk over to the table and rest my arms on his chest from behind him. “Why are you working? It’s Sunday.” I knot my fingers together over his abs and kiss him on the cheek.

“Things are busy, but it’s nothing urgent.” A smile flashes across his lips. “I have another surprise for you.”

“Oh, God. The last one left me a little sore,” I say, twisting to sit on his lap.

He chuckles as he wraps his arms around me. “No, nothing like that. For now.” He pauses, and I squint at him. “I was thinking we could take a quick road trip to the coast. Hit the beach.”

I straighten up. “Oh! That sounds great, but I don’t have a suit here. We could stop at Target or something on the way,” I say.

“I got you something.” I hop off his lap, and he gets to his feet, walking out of the kitchen. A door opens and closes down the hall. He returns with a Neiman Marcus shopping bag.

“That looks fancy,” I say.

“I was there picking up a couple of dress shirts, and I saw this on a mannequin and thought it would look killer on you,” he explains. He hands the paper bag to me. “And it’s quiet luxe. I know your style.”

I run my fingers along the sharp top edge of the bag. “Everything about you is quiet luxury. Aside from your watch. You seem pretty proud of that.”

He purses his lips, fighting a smile. “It’s not so much the label but what it represents,” he replies, maintaining eye contact with me.

“And what’s that?”

“That out of all my cousins, younger and older, I’m the one in charge. I’m keeping the family legacy going and building wealth for future generations.” He sighs and grabs his phone, unlocking it with his thumb.

“You want kids really badly, don’t you?” I quietly ask.

His eyes flash up to mine from the phone screen. “Of course I do.” He turns his phone around to face me. “This is Nonno and me a few months before he had the heart attack.” There’s a picture on the screen of a younger Enzo with an older man by a pool, likely taken at Rob’s house. “He hated my tattoos, but he knew I was meant to keep TV going.” Enzo had fewer tattoos in the picture, only on his arms and chest. It’s weird to see his skin so bare, but I think I prefer the version of him I know. My eyes flick to his tattooed stomach and back to the screen. His face hasn’t changed much, but everything else has.

“You’re a lot taller than him,” I say.

Enzo nods but frowns, setting the phone down. “Yeah, I get that from my mom’s side.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“No, but it’s still a reminder. Anyway, this isn’t about me. Want to see what I got you?”

I stare into his eyes. “We can talk about her, you know.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I told you what happened, and I was better off being raised by my stepmom.”

I don’t respond. He’ll probably think I’m trying to avoid confrontation again, but this isn’t my business. I lower my gaze to the bag resting in my lap. I exhale and reach in. My fingers touch the slick material of a swimsuit, and I pull it out of the bag. The one-piece is stunning—white and strapless with cutouts along both sides of the bodice. “White looks beautiful on you.”

“Thanks.” I give him a small smile. “I’ll go try it on.” I brush past him toward the downstairs half-bathroom. I close the door behind me and drop my pajamas on the floor. I step into the swimsuit, pulling it up over my legs and torso. The material molds to me perfectly.

The stark white contrasts against my tanned skin. I turn to look at the back in the mirror, and I lift my hair out of the way. A gasp escapes me. Small, purple ovals are scattered across the back of my neck. I know the bruises are from round two last night. Enzo was rougher than usual and held me down onto the bed, but I loved every minute.

Well, I’ll need to keep my hair down for a few days.

I sweep my hair back over my shoulder to cover the bruises and open the door. Enzo’s waiting outside, and his eyes light up as he very obviously looks me over.

“Wow,” he says under his breath.

“It’s perfect,” I reply. I twist to show him the back, and his fingertips graze my shoulder blade. I instinctively wince at his touch, knowing those bruises are going to hurt if he brushes over them.