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It’s Enzo. His presence is large and overwhelming. I’ve recently developed this interesting ability to sense them, whenever they’re nearby. It’s kind of unnerving.
Right now, I can tell he’s next to me, and that he’s radiating hostility.
Shit.
I inch backward, painfully aware of what happens to men who get too close to me around them.
Jimmy doesn’t understand.
He tries to come closer, and I push at his chest, warning him to back off.
“Christina,” Enzo says, interrupting us before Jimmy can move back to me. He doesn’t sound happy.
I cringe. Here we go.
Enzo steps right behind me and places his hand gently on my hip and pulls my back against his front. To an outsider, it might look merely like a protective gesture, but as my ass brushes against his cock, I know it’s anything but.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says.
His fingers dig into the skin around my hips, and I have to resist the urge to wiggle against him.
Jimmy hasn’t done anything wrong. Not exactly.
Under different circumstances, I might have actually enjoyed his company. But I can tell our interests in one another are not the same. He hasn’t said anything weird, per se, but I’m getting a strange vibe from him.
I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry with men.
“Come on,” Enzo says, firmly. It’s a command, but instead of bristling, I’m perfectly happy to follow. This time.
“Bye, Jimmy,” I wave.
Enzo practically drags me away and I have to focus on not stumbling over my feet. He guides us expertly through the crowd to our table.
I shiver from the sudden warmth of the room. And maybe in relief, too. At least I know what I’m getting into with Enzo and Nico.
But, as I gaze out at the expertly set table, I suddenly feel out of place. No one has briefed me on the expectations for manners here.
I’ve never been to an event this fancy.
Which fork do I use? What happens if I offend someone? What is more offensive to them: murder or lack of social grace?
It’s not until we’re next to the table that Enzo speaks again.
“Stay here,” he says, another order. “I’ll be right back.” He grumbles something beneath his breath as he walks away and I look back at him curiously.
People tend to react in one of two ways to Enzo. A large number avoid him, or even cower in fear when he approaches and others are visibly relieved when he passes.
It’s a strange thing to witness. But his brooding vibe also attracts a lot of attention. I don’t miss the way some women gaze after him longingly.
I straighten the napkin across my lap, mimicking the behaviors of those well-mannered people around me. Why so many forks?
The dining area is packed full of elegant people in black tie attire, and even though I’ve practically grown up in this town and around these people, I doubt any of this will ever feel normal. Or acceptable. Even now. Now that I’m a part of this… strange underworld.
Orchestral music plays softly in the background as the final guests filter into the room.
Enzo is the first to take his seat next to me. I school my face, but it’s hard to hide the fact that I’m grateful for him being next to me.
I’ve given up trying to deny it. Having him around makes me feel safer. More comfortable.
