Page 85 of Vincenzo
AMALIA
“You almost ready?” Enzo calls out to me from the bedroom while I finish applying my lipstick. “Armando said Pedro will be there in an hour, right?”
“Yeah,” I call back out to him.
He steps into the bathroom and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, looking hot as all fucking hell in his black button-up and gray slacks.
His mouth is drawn up into a smirk while he peruses my body, taking in my black shorts, black crop top, and black blazer.
I smile and raise a brow at him in the mirror. “Yes?”
He licks his lips while taking a few steps toward me, then wraps his arms around my waist. “What time are we supposed to be meeting Armando again?” he whispers into my ear as he brings his lips to my neck, pressing featherlight kisses along it.
Closing my eyes, I melt into him. “In thirty minutes,” I breathe out, nearly dropping my lipstick in the moment.
“Mmmm,” Enzo hums in my ear, then bites it. “There’s a lot I can do in a few minutes.”
I squeeze my legs together at the idea of making Enzo prove those words to me, but this is going to be the best chance I get at taking Pedro out, so I can’t let anything distract me from that. No matter how much I want to welcomethatdistraction.
After applying one last swipe of lipstick on my bottom lip, I spin around in Enzo’s arms and wrap mine around his neck. “As much as I would love for you to prove yourself right, Miami traffic is terrible, so we need to leave… like now.”
Enzo lets out a disapproving moan, and says, “Fine, yes, you’re right. I just can’t help how fucking desperate I am for you.” He slides his hands to my ass and grips it firmly, hauling me into him. “I just want to be buried deep inside you all the time.”
“And you can be,” I say with a giggle. “As soon as I kill the fucking asshole who killed my parents.”
“Mmm, keep talking dirty to me,” he growls out, then presses a kiss to my lips. It nearly consumes me, making me forget the task at hand.
Enzo cups my cheeks as he asks, “Are you ready for this?”
I nod. “As ready as always. Getting revenge for my parents’ deaths like this is about as therapeutic as it can get.”
Enzo laughs. “Only people like us would think that, but I’m glad. You need this, and your parents deserve justice.”
I pause for a second. “I never thought I’d be in this position. It’s just a huge smack in the face that this man who’s supposed to be my family—this man who turned me into the person I am today—turned out to be the one who stabbed meandmy parents in the back. I feel so stupid.”
He lets out a breath and says, “You’re right. Itisa huge smack in the face. Trusting someone like that for so long and then finding out they turned their back on you, it’s not fucking fair. But you’re not alone in this, Amalia. Do not allow this person to make you feel inferior.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out, and say, “Yeah, I know you’re right. Shit happens—lifehappens—but I need to remember the people I do have and the ones I can count on.”
A smile tugs at Enzo’s mouth. “That’s it. Now, you ready to go take care of this dude?”
A smile forms on my face, knowing I’m finally going to get the justice my parents deserve. “Yeah. I really fucking am. Let’s do this.”
30
VINCENZO
“So, this is Diego’s place?” I ask Amalia as I drive up the stone driveway leading to a mansion that’s nearly the size of the home I grew up in.
“Yup,” she says, popping the P. “And before you ask, yes, he’s single, no kids—that we know of, at least—and he’s living in a mansion that has at least a dozen rooms and even more bathrooms. It’s obnoxious.”
The immaculate home is nestled among meticulously thought-out landscaping and perfectly lit up by exterior lighting under the night sky. Banyan and palm trees cover the perimeter, secluding it in its own little jungle oasis.
After parking on the side of the house where Armando told us to park to ensure the car is hidden, we get out, and I take in the faint sounds of motorboats coming from somewhere I can’t see.
“There’s a bay on the other side of the house. That’s one of the reasons Diego was so attracted to this place. He wanted the private dock that came with it,” Amalia says, reading my mind.
“This place is pretty fucking insane,” I say, realizing how different the living experience here in Miami is compared toNew York. “I love New York, but living in a place like this could tempt me to stray.”
