Page 37 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
He dresses with the kind of unhurried grace that makes it impossible to tell if he's at peace or preparing for war.
A shirt is pulled over those scarred shoulders, slacks are hung low on his hips, bare feet are silent on the hardwood.
He doesn't look at me before slipping out of the room.
The door shuts softly behind him, and the moment he is gone, I exhale a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, allowing the quietness to settle over me.
The adrenaline has left my limbs, but not my mind.
Thoughts clamor in the space he left behind.
Guilt. Longing. Terror, dressed up like anticipation.
I pull the sheets tighter around my chest and stare up at the ceiling, tracing the dark ribs of exposed beams, the strange hush of a home that has seen too much and still speaks in silence.
He left the lamp on beside the bed, a pool of amber casting gentle shadows across the room.
The rest of it stretches out in dusky corners and sharp furniture, all dark woods and clean lines.
There is nothing soft about this place.
No plush rugs or scattered books, no idle clutter, no warmth for the sake of comfort.
It feels like a room built for function, not belonging.
And yet something of him clings to every surface.
I sit up slowly, letting the sheet fall to my lap.
My thighs ache in ways I can't explain, my lips still swollen from his kiss.
I reach for the robe that hangs off the edge of the bed, a black silk number, plain and masculine, worn at the collar.
It smells faintly of his cologne, sharp and dry and threaded with an undertone of pine and rain.
My throat constricts painfully, but I wrap it around myself anyway, tugging it closed and tying the belt tight before stepping onto the cool floor.
Padding toward the window, I part the curtain just enough to see the estate grounds.
Floodlights spill over the distant drive, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn.
Beyond it, only the black line of trees.
I imagine slipping out into that darkness.
I imagine running.
And then I laugh, because where would I go?
Where, once my family catches wind of my pregnancy?
The sole reason I'd come here was to see if I could give Enzo a chance.
"Hard to understand that if he's never around for anything except sex," I mutter to myself.
My fingers twitch.
I walk past the window and run my hand over the tall dresser by the wall.
