Page 35 of SINS & Lies

Then he sweetens the deal. He nods towards the car, where the girls are still bouncing around like it’s an amusement park ride. “Hurry before you miss out on the best show in town.”

My hesitation fades away. Fair play isn’t in this man’s vocabulary. Enzo knows exactly where to strike, aiming a cherub’s arrow right at my vulnerable soft spot, hitting dead center.

Slowly, I sit beside him, and feel a little like a puppy being trained.

For a moment, we sit in silence. Then my nerves get the better of me and I speak. “You’re good with kids.”

“I had babysitting duty a lot with Trinity.”

“Trinity?”

He nods. “My sister.” He gestures his cigar toward the car. “They remind me of her,” he remarks, settling a hand on my knee, the possession of his touch potent.

I’m pretty sure the book of Enzo isn’t cracked open very often. My hand smoothes over his. “I’d love to hear about her.”

He blows out a long strand of smoke. “Once, Trinity had the brilliant idea to ‘decorate’ our dad’s brand new Mercedes. Nothing says Happy Birthday like a bedazzled steering wheel and a fire-engine red nail-polish happy face on the dash.”

My hand squeezes his. “Your father must have been furious.”

He shakes his head. “My father had this remarkable way of not yelling. He just gave us that disappointed look. And made me clean it up, of course.”

“Why you?” I ask, fascinated by a D’Angelo family story that seems so...normal.

“Because I was responsible for her. I’d give anything to have that time back.” His lips tip down, the look in his eyes full of sadness and regret. “I’m still responsible for her.”

I nod. “I get it. I’d do anything for Riley.”

He withdraws his hand from mine, and it’s as if he’s suddenly partitioning parts of himself off. I feel all the walls go up between us, and all I want to do is tear them back down.

He leans back, losing himself in watching three little girls engrossed in pretending to drive around town. “The point is kids will be kids,” he mutters with so much regret I know not to pry.

If this really is the last time we’ll see each other, I don’t want it to end like this. I try to lighten the mood. Gently, I elbow him in the ribs. “I’m surprised the Chicago god of war is this easy going under the circumstances.”

A small smile lifts his lips, but he doesn’t look at me. “You know my nickname. Finally got around to googling me?”

“I figured it was only fair, considering you seem to be stalking me.”

“How else am I supposed to find out your preferences in porn?” He puffs a circle of smoke through the air.

I lower my voice. “What makes you think I watch porn?”

“Everyone watches porn.” His smile is short-lived as two women rush up the street, frantic as they start calling for their daughters.

The girls quickly hop out.

I jump to my feet. “It’s fine, Ms. Adams and Mrs. Lee. The girls were just playing.” Calmly, I introduce Enzo. “This is?—”

“We’re so s-sorry, Mr. D’Angelo,” Mrs. Lee stammers, huffing and hastily pulling little Annabelle’s death grip away from the steering wheel. Once dislodged, she shields her protectively.

It’s obvious they know who he is. It’s painfully obvious that I’m the only person in Chicago who failed to recognize him on sight.

Meanwhile, Ms. Adams attempts to retrieve Mackenzie, who defiantly clings to Enzo’s lower leg, refusing to let go. “I want to play with Zo!” she protests, her tiny fingers gripping him tightly.

Her mother, visibly mortified, apologizes profusely as she gently pries her daughter’s hands from around his thick calves. “I am so sorry,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Try picking up your kids on time,” he scolds with the gentleness of a grizzly bear. “This woman is not your babysitter.”

These women are practically bowing as they depart, and it’s irritating. “I’m happy to watch them after school.”

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