Enzo’s apartment isn’t just some loft. It’s a newer high-rise with a garage, a pool, a gym, a private park, and maid services. I know this because I’ve seen this building before, standing tall amongst old architecture like a glass tower, basking in the sun’s attention. I Googled it when Josh and I decided to move in together, but of course, the monthly cost was way out of our budget. 

We pull in front of the building, and Charlie keeps the engine ticking as we step out of the car and enter the lobby. My heels tap across the marble floor, my arm hooked through Enzo’s as he leads me past a reception desk and to the elevator. My heartbeats mimic each step I take, and I’m glad we’re not holding hands since my palms are too sweaty from being anxious.

I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever awaits in his loft.

The elevator doors close gently, and the numbers glow above them as we ascend and pass each level. The closer we get to the top, the faster my heart drums. Before I know it, the doors open and reveal the inside of Enzo’s loft, where evening moonlight spills past a wall of windows and casts blue shadows across the expensive furniture. 

“After you.” He motions.

Taking a quiet, deep breath, I step inside, and lights flicker above me. Enzo sets his keys on the entry table, and as he walks ahead, the living room illuminates to life, too.

Motion sensors. Fancy.

He goes to the wall of windows, his hands in his pockets as he admires the view. “Come take a look.”

I go to him, and he claps his hands, which causes the lights to go out. I laugh, “A clapper? I thought that only existed in infomercials for old people.”

“I am old.”

“No, you’re not.”

He places his hand on my lower back and points at the cityscape that twinkles like rolling hills of stars and reflects off the marina, where the lights from the Bay Bridge pulse. 

“I like to stand here and drink my coffee in the morning. It puts me in a good mood,” Enzo says. “And at night, I have cognac to relax.”

“I bet it’s amazing to wake up to.”

“It is. However, this isn’t why I brought you here.” Stepping away, he says, “We’re going to the garage.”

“The garage?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He opens a small drawer in the entry table and pulls something out that he tucks into his pocket. “Let’s go.”

It doesn’t take long for the elevator to descend, yet I spend the entire time wondering what Enzo has up his sleeve—or rather, what’s in his pocket. He stares at the floor, his arms folded with a little smile on his lips. I stare at this profile, studying the faint lines around his eyes when he’s happy and the peppering of grey in his sideburns. Enzo is one of the most handsome men I’ve met. Even his presence is attractive. 

It’s the way he stands with perfect posture that makes his chest stick out, but not in a ridiculous way. Instead, it quietly says, you will notice me when I enter a room. It’s how he brushes his tattooed knuckles across his jawline when he’s in deep thought and stares into your eyes as if every word you say is something he needs to learn and commit to memory.

But mostly, it’s the way I feel safe around him. 

The elevator doors slide open, and Enzo places his hand on my back as we step out. It shouldn’t surprise me that each car we pass looks expensive, and I bet his is just as extravagant.

“Which one is yours?” I ask.

“This one.” He smiles at a silver Shelby Mustang. 

It looks like the one from the movie Gone in 60 Seconds with Nicolas Cage. My jaw drops as I run my fingertips across the hood.

“Wow.”

“I like to take her out on Sunday morning drives,” he says proudly. “She’s my baby.” 

“I’ve never seen an old muscle car in such pristine condition before.”

“I take good care of what I love. But I didn’t bring you down here to show off my car.”

“No?”

He reaches into his pocket, and the red Mini Cooper beside us releases a honk, its headlights blinking twice.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s cute.” I peer into the tinted windows and step back. “But I can’t imagine you driving around in a small European car.”

“That’s because it’s not mine,” he says and tosses me the keys. “It’s yours.”

I nearly fumble as I catch them. “Wha-what?”

“Go ahead. Take a look inside.” 

“Enzo…” I shake my head. “I can’t accept this.”

“And I can’t accept you getting mugged again. This is to keep you safe. So you don’t have to take public transportation anymore, and it’ll get you around the city.” 

“I…” 

“Don’t overthink.” He closes the distance between us and folds my fingers over the keys. “Take it. Please.”

“Alright,” I whisper, staring into his eyes as tears sting mine. “Why are you so kind to me?” 

Enzo’s brows crease. “Because you deserve kindness.”

I drop my gaze. “Men usually aren’t kind to me unless they want something, and it’s usually sexual. Once they’re satisfied, they move on. Even my ex-boyfriend, Josh, said he needed more than a sexy girlfriend.” 

“That was a shitty thing for him to say.”

“People don’t see me. They never care to look deeper.”

“What do you mean?”

“Growing up, people always said I was pretty but not smart. A nice girl, but not someone to take seriously, and in high school, guys had a running bet of who could take my virginity first, but I had no idea until after my boyfriend told all of his friends that he popped my cherry.” I stop to wipe my eyes. “He won the bet, and for an entire year, jokes were made about my body. When people look at me, they don’t see me. They only see someone they can use.” 

“Mara, where is this coming from?”

I stop pacing and peer at him through soggy lashes. “I know we made a deal, but are you using me? Will you toss me aside once you’ve gotten what you wanted from me?”

“What do you think I want from you?”

I dart my gaze. “Sex?”

“No. That’s not what this is about.” He steps closer and lifts my chin. “Am I attracted to you? Yes. You’re stunning. From the moment I saw you, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, but let’s be real. I’m too old for you. So, I expect nothing other than what we agreed to.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Never, ever think you owe me your body. This car is a gift because I want to protect you. Period.”

I search his eyes, and the pitter-patter of my heart eases. “You’re telling me the truth.”

“Of course I am.”

My chest swells with hummingbirds, and I engulf him, my arms weaving around his torso with a squeeze. It catches Enzo off guard, but then he wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on my head. 

We both exhale.

My heart does pirouettes. 

And I think I’m falling in love with him.

◇◇◇

The dinner Enzo has taken me to is a charity event, but not just any event. According to him, this is a who-is-who, where rich people open their wallets to make themselves sleep better at night. They mingle and puff out their chests while boasting about their successful businesses and congratulate one another, but then talk shit behind each other’s backs.

Another difference in this event is that I’m not the only arm candy parading the room with an older gentleman. However, my date is the handsomest.

Our champagne flutes have run empty, so we meander to the open bar for a cocktail.

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned,” Enzo tells the bartender. “What about you, Mara?”

“Not sure. Maybe something… fruity?” 

“Hmm.” He taps his chin. “She’ll have the lychee martini.” 

“Lychee?” I say.

“You’ll like it.” Enzo winks, but then the smile fades from his eyes. “Shit. My ex is coming this way.” 

“Having a good night?” Evelyn says, her voice like a purr that makes my ears twitch as she purposely wedges between Enzo and me to grab a cocktail napkin.

When the wives talked about her that night at House of Prime Rib, I imagined her as botoxed as them. However, she’s far from plastic, with a golden complexion that says she takes good care of her skin. Caramel waves frame her hazel eyes and cheekbones and cascade down her toned arms that a personal trainer probably helped her sculpt. I hold my breath. 

She’s a damn goddess.

“Evelyn,” Enzo exhales as if he’s already exhausted, yet the conversation has just begun. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

She smirks. “Don’t be silly. You know Graham is a top contributor and has always made more money than you.” Her gaze rolls over me, amusement at the edges of her eyes. “And who do we have here?”

“Mara Santiago,” I introduce myself. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’ve heard so little about you.”

“Yet I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” I laugh and reach for the drink the bartender is handing me. “I’m half your age and dating your ex-husband. That’s hot gossip for your group, isn’t it?” 

“She’s spicy, Enzo. Watch out. I hear ballerinas sleep their way to the top.”

“Evelyn,” he warns. “That’s eno—” 

“That’s rich coming from a woman who cheated on her husband multiple times,” I say. 

Evelyn’s smirk turns into a scowl, and she leans in. Enzo tugs her elbow, but she jerks free. “Listen up, you little cunt–”

“Evelyn!”

“You’ll find out soon enough that he cares more about work than you, and then we’ll see how long you stick around after his limp dick can’t give you an orgasm!”

She storms off, her shoulder shoving mine, causing my martini to slosh over the rim and splash my dress. 

“Bloody hell.” Enzo grabs a wad of cocktail napkins. “She had to come over here and start trouble.”

“I suppose I could have been nicer.”

“No, she knew what she was doing coming over here. She wanted to intimidate you.”

“Well, she definitely accomplished that with how beautiful she is.” I take the napkins and wipe the droplets on my chest.

“Exterior beauty doesn’t matter if what’s on the inside is bitter and hateful,” he sighs. “Let’s get you to the bathroom to wash the martini off your hands.”

He steers me around guests as we exit from the banquet hall and pass through a quiet sitting area to a corridor where the restrooms are. I push through the bathroom door and head straight for the sink, but catch my reflection in the mirror. Even though makeup covers the giant bruise on my face, it’s impossible to hide the stitches across my cheek, especially under these bright fluorescent lights. 

Frowning, I graze my fingers over the wound.

I look terrible. 

Evelyn is probably somewhere laughing with Duck Lips about how much Enzo downgraded. I close my eyes and shake my head. Their opinions don’t matter. 

Shutting off the faucet, I dry my hands and leave the restroom. I’m almost to the sitting area when I hear Enzo arguing with a woman, but it’s not Evelyn. So, I pause in the hallway to listen.

“You tell your uncle to back off,” the woman says, but Enzo scoffs.

“I am not his keeper, and he is no longer part of your sketchy world.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know he’s scheming to take back the territory, and I cannot have him interfering with everything I have in motion.”

“Augusta, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Enzo says, and I peer around the corner. 

Confusion fills me. I’ve seen the woman before. She comes into the club and sits in the VIP section like a queen looking down on the peasants in her kingdom. Her name is Augusta Abramovitz. She and her sister Jocelyn are heiresses who live in a mansion in Golden Gate Park. 

“You’re such a handsome liar,” she says. “We both know your uncle never left the mob life, and he thinks he can push me out of the way?” she laughs. “This city belongs to me. I control it. No one will follow him.”

“Then take that up with him and leave me out.” Enzo brushes past her, but she blocks his path.

“He’s interfering with my plans.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Enzo says.

“It’s an everyone problem, and he needs to back off from Lucas!” she hisses.

“Who?”

Goosebumps spread across my limbs faster than wildfire. I shake my head. Lucas is a common name. So, I can’t assume she means my brother.

“For the last time, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Enzo says.

Augusta looks down her nose at him despite Enzo being taller. “There is a serial killer out there, and I need Lucas focused on finding the piece of shit. Having a murderer on the loose negatively impacts Rohan Reddy’s campaign for mayor, and I’ve invested a lot of money to get him elected. So your uncle needs to stop interfering!”

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Because Lucas is your little girlfriend’s brother,” Augusta says, and I suck in a breath. Enzo reels back in confusion.

“My Mara?” He points to his chest. “You’re talking about her brother?”

“Yes! What other Lucas is there? And ever since she was attacked, Lucas has been distracted with finding the asshole, but I need that boy focused. Otherwise, the entire campaign will go to shit. So you need to tell Sammy Fucking Costello to back off.”

“Wait a damn minute!” Enzo growls. “What does my uncle have to do with Mara’s brother?”

“He wants Lucas to believe I had Mara attacked. He’s intentionally distracting him and trying to turn him against me!”

Enzo’s expression turns deadly as he narrows his eyes at her and steps closer. “Did you have her attacked?”

“No. But your uncle did.” 

All of the blood rushes from my head to my heels, and my legs sway. 

What did she just say?