Page 41 of Corrupted By the Capo

“Is your family willing to risk a war over a hundred grand?” Enzo asked.

“None of your concern. Just hand over the cash,” Fabiano said.

Enzo was silent for a moment, but I easily pictured his face.

“You mean to tell me they’re willing to take the risk but don’t want to own up to it? Exactly what you’d expect from a Genovese,” Enzo said.

Fabiano growled.

“I can take a souvenir. Is that what you want?” Fabiano said.

“Take the blindfold off,” Enzo said.

The blindfold was gone, and I blinked, my eyes burning as they tried to focus.

I glanced over and saw Nico—waiting. In front of him, Enzo.

I wanted to throw myself in his arms but stayed still, torn between my heart, that wanted comfort, and my head, that demanded distance.

“Fabiano,” Enzo said.

“What?”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Enzo said.

In the next breath, he reacted, lifting the gun at his waistband and pulling the trigger.

Fabiano fell down. Crumpled like a paper doll.

“I just needed him to hear that before he died,” Enzo said. Then he looked at me, completely unbothered by the dead man ten feet away from us. “Why’d you leave the restaurant?”

I glanced at him, looked at Fabiano’s body, then looked back at Enzo.

He hadn’t hesitated. And I should have been focused on that.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Enzo?” I said.

“Molly, I drugged you. I’m an asshole. You gotta get over it,” he said.

I thought I had wanted that. But hearing the words unleashed a terrible anger.

“Enzo,” I said as he rubbed my wrists, frowning at the marks there. Then I glared at him. “I want to slap the hell out of you. But I won’t. But take me home—and stay out of my sight.”

“Fine,” Enzo said.

The ride to my apartment was tense, thick with anger.

"You can go now," I said when we reached my apartment.

He acted like I hadn’t said a word.

“Fuck off, Enzo,” I growled when he followed me inside.

He didn’t move an inch.

I was suddenly exhausted and decided to ignore him. Practically an impossibility—but somehow, with Enzo in my space, making it seem much smaller, I managed.

And he didn’t even try to speak to me again—something I was grateful for as I lay in bed.

---