Page 52 of Between Dusk and Dawn

I fell onto the bed, my eyes darting toward the window that faced the main house. He was there. I could feel it, sense it. I would deal with this in the morning, but tonight, I needed sleep.

Chapter Eighteen

Although I didn’t have a plan for her, I knew I needed to protect her. Being at my house, especially with the holidays looming around the corner, which meant my dad and Ember were bound to stop by unexpectedly—I didn’t want them walking in to see Madison Ryan, er, Solis…laying in my fucking house in her fuck-me lingerie.

Everything I did was to protect her, but she was too fucking stubborn to see that, so she was trying to wage some war with me that she would never win. I was always one step ahead of her, even if that step felt like I was standing on shaky ground.

I had one more day until the priest in Isles would file the documents. The light to her room was off. She had to be asleep, and it was taking everything in me not to go over there and feel the way her body molded into mine.

Enzo walked in and sat next to me, offering me a whiskey on the rocks.

"One day," he stated, and I nodded, knowing we were running out of time.

"I just have to rip off the Band-Aid and tell them I got married and have a wife. They will both have to learn to dealwith it." Enzo walked over to the small wet bar in the corner and poured himself a glass of whiskey, too.

I had no friends, a lot of rich acquaintances with power in a lot of places in the world, but no true friends. Enzo was the closest thing I had to a friend.

"How badly do you think she’s going to hate me? You’ve been with her for years." I took the glass up to my lips, sipping the chilled liquid, reveling in it, warming my veins.

"Oh, she’s fucking pissed and is one hundred percent plotting your demise in there." He gestured toward the barn house, a smile spreading into the dimples of his cheeks. "But she’s also going to eventually forgive you. I hope to God it doesn't take years again, but you two are connected in some way?—"

"Yeah, because she’s my wife now."

He smirked. "Of course, Boss." He splayed out in the velvet chair next to mine. "It’s the Irish you need to be worried about."

"I’ve been thinking about it. I have a plan…Somewhat."

Enzo cocked an eye in my direction. "Somewhat? The first time I think you’ve ever not had something concrete."

"Fuck. I know, but I think it’ll all come to fruition."

He lay back in the chair, popping open one of the cigar containers I kept for company. Italian men still preferred to live by their stereotypes and loved to roll up during business meetings.

Enzo was raised by the family, but his parents were never high enough in the hierarchy for him to have an edge up. When we were in the Alpha house together, I saw potential in him. He was always ready and willing to give whatever was needed for leadership. Since he was a year younger, once Enzo graduated from Isles, I gave him his shot. Over the years, he was tasked with my most prized and covert operation, monitoring my muse. Because of our constant communication, we’d developed this camaraderie over the years.

He rolled up a cigar, and I realized the uncanny familiarity between the two of us. We were both in all black like some fucking hot shots. We had longer black hair, but Enzo kept his cropped shorter on the sides and longer in the front. Enzo also had a few piercings in his ear and a nose ring—a little edgier than I could imagine myself.

He handed me the tray, and I declined, taking a sip of whiskey as I leaned back in my own chair.

"So…let’s hear this grand plan of yours."

I chuckled. "I know what you’re thinking?—"

He held up a hand to stop me, which normally I would take as a sign of disrespect but, because it was Enzo, I let it go…for now.

"I am not thinking anything," Enzo added. "Come on. Spit it out."

I sighed. I couldn’t just come out with it; I had no idea what the fuck I wanted to say. It was a half-ass plan, and that bothered the shit out of me.

"I am going to go over to his house tomorrow. Let him know I decided to marry someone I knew in college over the weekend. I will then go over to the Irish with a basket of apologies. Tell them there was some sort of miscommunication and I am, in fact, not an eligible bachelor. Then I will offer them your hand."

"Me?" Enzo’s eyes went wide, and he almost dropped his cigar on the ground. "You are using me as your pawn?"

I nodded. He thought about it for a second, taking a long drag of the cigar. "Lemme see her."

I got up and walked over, dropping her CV in his lap. "She’s good looking."

"I’m not doing you dirty, but with my dad giving me the family business, I want you to be my second, and therefore, it would be good for our image if we were both married. If you become my right-hand, then the Irish won’t be so offended."

---