Page 120 of Enforcer

“Just don’t do that shit right now, okay?”

“Do what shit?” He whirls around, nearly hitting me with his roller covered in Pacific Blue.

I dodge out of his way as he grins.

“TheSlatething. Where you know all the right things to say to fuck me up even more. Let me wallow, alright?”

He shrugs, returning to his wall once his roller is good and wet again. “It’s been six months. Nearly seven. How long do you think this wallowing will go on for?”

I grumble something under my breath as I go back to painting. Slate’s right; Brynne will murder us where we stand if she returns from walking with Lorenzo, and this room isn’t finished.

We promised it weeks ago but have been engrossed in keeping the peace with the Romanos after the truce and getting our house in order after the switch in power nearly a year ago.

Everything is falling into place.

Well, mostly everything.

“You sure we should’ve let Lorenzo go with Brynne? You know he drives her up the wall.”

Slate shrugs. “I can’t be in two places at once, and she’s determined to walk Nico right out of her stomach. I find it best to let her do what she wants.”

I smirk, knowing he can’t see me with my back turned. “Wise man.”

“I’m not trying to be wise; I’m trying to stay alive. She’s as good of an aim as any of my men.”

I laugh despite the seriousness of his words.

“I think you’re being an idiot, you know?” Slate says. He’s never been one to mince words. I don’t know why I thought he’d start now.

“You’ve said as much.” I sigh.

I replace my paint roller with the tray and stand back as I finish my wall.

“Both of you are being stupid.”

“Hey!” I turn on him, forgetting my place for a beat as I scowl at him. “Her fears are valid, and she’s been through a lot. While some of us barrel into the scary shit, others run from it, alright? You don’t get to say shit about her when you don’t understand her.”

His immediate reaction is anger; how could it not be, being who he is? However, he stows it, his eyes softening as he takes me in.

I scrub my paint-covered hands over my face. “I’m sorry, Slate. I don’t mean to be this way; it’s just… It’s like I’m not in control of my temper anymore. I’m sorry.”

He puts his roller into his tray, walks over, and claps me on the shoulder.

His dark brown eyes stare into mine. “You don’t give up on love, Dante. No matter what. Give her time. Give her space. But don’t give up.”

“We Riccis don’t give in,” I say, mirroring words he’s said to me a thousand times over the last few months of therapy and emotional breakdowns through my recovery.

Brynne walks into the room, her hands on the curvature of her back, her belly jutting out further than I thought the human stomach could stretch.

We both freeze as she assesses our work.

She moves around the room, and my heart races behind my ribs. It’s silly, really. However, she is a bit scary, if I’m honest.

“It’s great, guys. Thank you!”

The room gets lighter as we both sigh in relief.

Brynne eyes me as Slate cleans up the mess on the floor. Something about how she looks at me says she wants to say something, but how she sinks her top teeth into her bottom lip says she knows she needs to keep her mouth shut.

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