Page 3 of Corrupted By the Capo

It was time to go.

I pressed my hands together in a tight clasp. “Well, sounds like you two have a lot of catching up to do, so if you don’t mind…”

I went to step around Enzo and was stopped by a strong arm around my waist.

I tried to think of a time when another person had so effortlessly halted me, and I came up short.

I’d been five-eight in the fifth grade and only got bigger and taller from there. But Enzo didn’t seem to have any trouble stopping me in my tracks when his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place effortlessly, like I weighed nothing.

One second I was moving, the next I was pinned to him, my side flush against his hard chest, the place where we touched electrified.

“Excuse me?” I said, glaring at him, my face no doubt twisted.

He chuckled, the sound rich, amused, and far too attractive.

“Don’t be coy, doll,” he said.

As he spoke, he pulled me even closer, sealing my side against his. The suit he wore probably cost more than the entire animal shelter. Tailored within an inch of its life, the fit so perfect, it could only have been made for him. The black fabric had a subtle sheen, and his white shirt looked extra crisp against his tan skin.

He looked, smelled, and felt like money.

He made me want to lean into him.

He felt…good. I hated how solid he felt. How much I wanted to touch him even though my brain screamed danger.

Instead I tried to pull away…and got absolutely nowhere.

“She belong to you?” Fabiano said.

I was so intent on asking Enzo what the fuck he was doing, I had practically forgotten Fabiano was there.

His words drew my attention and my ire.

“I don’t belong to?—”

Enzo cut me off. “Yep, she does,” he said, his voice easy before it shifted into menace. “Which means this place is off limits.”

His voice was flat, final. Didn’t allow even a hint of debate.

Fabiano wasn’t fazed. “Are you trying to tell the Genovese what we can do in our own territory?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the Genovese or your fucking territory,” Enzo said, his voice dismissive and taunting.

I could tell it pissed Fabiano off, too, and seeing that irritation was enough to make me smile.

“This is my woman’s place, which means it—and her—are under the protection of the Morettis. Remember that,” Enzo said.

I started to interject. “I don’t?—”

“Let me handle this, doll,” Enzo said.

Doll.

He may as well have patted my head.

I looked at him, mouth gaping open.

He had shushed me.

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