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She shrugs a shoulder. “Not that he remembers, but yes.”
That line throws me off. “Why wouldn’t he remember?”
She pauses, her eyes flickering with old memories. “It was a very long time ago. And a lot has happened between now and then. But he always loved to cook. Something his Nonna taught him.”
“Nonna?”
“Grandmother.” Her smile turns wistful, almost sad. “They were very close. He wasn’t always the ruthless monster that manages to make headlines.”
It’s hard to imagine all the layers that make up Enzo D’Angelo, or how far I’d have to drill down to find the real him.
I don’t just want to know. I need to know. Savannah Whitaker warned me that Enzo had exactly one person that was important to him, and that was himself. She also said he hit on her and that Enzo is handing me back by the end of the week.
My head screams for caution, but my heart—the one that’s been shattered so many times it can’t take another blow—whispers that Enzo is worth the risk. A safe haven in a tumultuous sea. And deep down, a good man.
Which, admittedly, might be a stretch. Enzo is still a lethal mafia king notorious for everything from being a player to a psychotic murderer.
Seriously, no one wants to be on his bad side.
And the idea that Enzo deeply, truly cares for me might be my ridiculous heart living way too long in the cold and mistaking that first ray of sunlight for . . . love.
Still, when it comes to Enzo, I can’t help it. My heart overflows with hope. How can it not? He rescued me from Andre and sent Riley halfway around the world just to keep her safe.
He didn’t have to do either of those things. Yet, he did.
Plus, I’m pretty sure that whatever came out of Savannah’s mouth was pretty much straight-up dog shit, but that’s just a memo from my gut.
Like Alice in Wonderland, curiosity gets the better of me, and I dive in, headfirst, straight down the D’Angelo rabbit hole. “What’s salvataggio?”
Dory’s expression shifts slightly, a guarded look crossing her face. She eyes me for a moment, then grabs one of the cannolis—the white chocolate hazelnut one—and eats as she talks, keeping her voice down. “I think it means ‘rescue’ in Italian. But in Enzo’s world, it’s more complicated than that. It’s about saving what’s important, sometimes at great personal cost.”
“Saving what?” I ask, nibbling on a chocolate chip one.
Dory leans in, her eyes darting around as if we’re in a spy movie. “In case you didn’t know,” she whispers, “their uncle is a total a-hole.”
Considering the man had me attacked and kidnapped while holding my douchebag stepfather’s debt over my head like a guillotine, I wholeheartedly agree. “A-hole of the century.”
Dory’s expression darkens, her eyes narrowing with a mix of rage and resolve. “Apparently, one of Andre’s latest monstrosities is trafficking women, and our boys here are determined to stop him. No matter the cost.”
Our boys repeats in my head, but so does no matter the cost.
I think back to the woman at the van, how desperately she clung to Enzo. What if she was actually thanking him?
Realization hits me like a punch to the gut, sharp and unforgiving. Maybe Enzo isn’t just a ruthless mafia overlord. Maybe, just maybe, he’s risking everything to demolish his Uncle’s human trafficking pipeline. Is that why he’s been gone all this time? To save the lives of fifty women?
Because my big bad Enzo D’Angelo isn’t just Satan incarnate, but an angel, too.
All the pieces start to fall into place, each revelation more staggering than the last.
His work with Dante.
Why he didn’t want me to see any of the photos.
Moving Riley to the safest place on the planet he could find.
Risking his own life to rescue me.
“Keeping them all for yourselves?” Enzo’s voice is a smooth rumble as he enters the room.
