Page 34 of Enzo's Vow
I opened the passenger door, ushered her inside with a foreign gentleness at odds with my inner turmoil, then jogged over to the driver’s seat. Determined to get back to the villa, back to safety, to where we’d be able to change into dry clothes, I revved the engine. From my peripheral, she shivered in her seat. Her soaked summer dress stuck to every curve and dip, a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.
I sucked in a sharp breath, the scent of ozone and churned earth heavy in the air. Already frustrated with the woman, now her saturated body threw in another form of frustration. A dangerous heat flickered in my gut, a primal urge I couldn’t afford to acknowledge. I forced myself to look away, focusing on the road, but the outline of her curves burned behind my eyelids. I gripped the wheel, knuckles aching as I kept my sights on the slick asphalt.
“Enzo, please.” Her small, hesitant voice lashed at my conscience.
The wipers struggled to clear the windshield, barely making a dent in the downpour. “I believe you.” The words tasted like ash. Not a lie… and that’s what shook me. The tremor in my hands wasn’t from the cold. It was her. This woman was a loose thread in my carefully woven control. My outburst set us back to square one. Did she worry I’d exact revenge on her parents?
She bit her lip, staring out at the bleak scenery.
Oh yes, the notion troubled her. I’d broken the fragile trust she’d reluctantly given. Minutes crawled by in silence on the drive back, tension thick in the air. “Gemma,” I softened her name, ebbing my earlier fury. “Idobelieve you. But understand my predicament when I found the beach empty. I thought something bad happened.”
She turned, a tear tracing a path down her cheek. “You did?”
I nodded and concentrated back on the road. “I told you I have enemies, right? I thought… never mind, it’s over now.”
The villa finally came into view. I parked in the driveway and rushed to help her out of the car. We dashed through the house, up the stairs to her bedroom.
I returned from the en-suite with a towel to find her standing by the bed, teeth clattering and hugging herself. First, I wiped the moisture from her face and neck, then gently doused her head, the thick, fluffy material already dampening in my hands as I massaged her scalp.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“What?” Rain pelted the balcony doors, verifying the storm prevailed.
Her mouth stretched into a full-blown smile. “I can’t stop picturing you chasing my hat.”
My snort encouraged her to chuckle. “There’s nothing funny about that hat, Gemma.”
“It was funny.” She persisted and poked my arm.
I shook my head in a firm no.
“Admit it, Enzo. It was.” Her lips pouted with scrunched humor, highlighting the teasing sparkle in her eyes.
Her insistence tightened something in my chest, a feeling I neither expected nor welcomed. The woman in the report proved to be far more resilient in real life. I looped the towel around her neck and jerked her closer. Her damp hair stuck together in thick cords, and her sodden clothes left her shivering. “Go have a hot shower, then meet me downstairs. You will eat, no arguments.”
Her mirth vanished. “Again with giving orders, really?” She clutched the towel I’d wrapped around her shoulders and blew out a sharp breath.
My glare should have been warning enough, but I repeated, my voice edged with steel. “I’m in no mood to argue.”
She smacked her hands on her hips instead of relenting. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.”
“Gemma,” I chided again, my teeth sinking into the soft flesh of my bottom lip until I tasted copper.
Her gaze narrowed in sharp perusal. “I said I’m not hungry.” She spun on her heel, her back rigid, and marched to the bathroom. The en-suite door slammed shut, the sound echoing her simmering anger.
I restrained myself from kicking in the door.Control. Stay in control. I stormed down the hallway, cursing under my breath, all the while set on charging back up here with a sandwich. If she refused to eat, I’d force every crumb down her throat.
I bumped into Giulia on the staircase. “Enzo. Quick.” She clung to the rail, breathless, but relief softened her features.
Had she searched the entire place for me? “What’s the matter?”
“Signore Gallo is on the phone.” She thumbed behind her. “He says it’surgente.”
Gemma’s father? I raked a hand through my wet hair. We’d seen each other a few hours ago. Did his health take a turn for the worse? I raced into the dining hall and snatched the phone on the hall stand. “Gino?”
“Enzo?” The old man’s heavy accent rang higher in pitch. “Please tell me Gemma’s all right?”
The sheer panic in his voice sent a chill down my spine, so much so I reminded myself I’d just left Gemma. Perfectly fine. Stubborn as usual, but still fine. “Of course she is. She’s upstairs in her room.”
