Page 44 of Tainted Princess
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Francesca
Enzo didn’t get back to the condo until after four in the morning.
When he left me in the parking garage, I was pissed as fuck, but on some level, I had understood. I mean, this was new to both of us, and I was just as uncomfortable as he was.
But after spending the day together, I had thought we were at least reaching some sort of almost acquaintance status. Maybe even friendly, on the verge of possibly being sort of friends…ish?
Who really knew?
Whatever I had thought we were achieving, apparently, I had been wrong, because when myhusbandfinally came to bed, crawling in between the sheets just as the rest of the world was getting ready to wake up, he smelled like tequila and cigarettes, and dare I say it, women’s perfume.
I didn’t want to be mad. I hadn’t even thought to ask Enzo if he had a girlfriend before I was forced on him and he on me. Maybe he had a whole rotation of girls that he kept on speed dial.
Fuck. What if he had a kid? Was I a stepmother and I didn’t even know it?
No, I really didn’t want to be mad. But that didn’t stop me from seething on the inside.
These thoughts swirled around in my brain, getting more and more ridiculous the longer I laid next to his passed-out form, and by the time five am rolled around, I drug my ass out of the apartment and down to the gym. After putting several miles on the treadmill and sweating out the better part of a bottle of wine that I put away by myself last night, I realized that this whole thing was a lot more complicated than I anticipated.
I decided to put Enzo and his life out of my mind for the time being and focus on what I was trying to do for myself. After I hopped out of the shower, dressing and getting ready all while a snoring Enzo was dead to the world, I reached out to Lexi. She was busy today, but I arranged to meet her for breakfast tomorrow to work out some of the plans I had for adding to theTaste of Edenline up.
Just before noon, I got a text that my Range Rover was ready to be delivered, and I made arrangements to meet the sales guy down in the lobby later. The timing couldn’t have been better because my order at the print store was ready for me as well, and that was just the sort of thing I needed to brighten my admittedly shitty morning.
I was putting on my jacket and getting ready to leave when the bedroom door creaked open and Enzo stumbled out into the living room, looking rough. He had two days’ worth of stubble, his dark hair was standing up in several directions, and he was still dressed in the clothes he had passed out in. He eyed me; the look he gavemyclothes and jacket full of accusation.
“Where are you goin’?”
“Out.” This was becoming our thing.
He glared, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“You got a date or some shit? What are you all dressed up for?”
I looked at what I was wearing; it was my standard uniform of black dress pants and a sweater set, this time in a royal purple with pearl buttons. “This is what I always wear.”
Enzo scoffed. “Yeah, babe. I know. You have, like, nine of the same outfit.” I frowned at that, hating that he was right. “Still doesn’t explain where the fuck you’re goin’.”
“I just have to pick up a few things. I’ll be back to make dinner.” He continued to stare at me, his eyes like a stormy sky.
Finally, he ran his hand over his hair, stretching his back as he did so, which caused his t-shirt to rise up, showing me a sliver of firm, tanned skin at his waist, the bronze hue only marred by the delicious trail of dark hair leading down.
I clenched my jaw and pretended I didn’t want to see more.
When Enzo lowered his arm, I snapped my eyes back to his, but it was too late. He’d caught me looking and he didn’t seem pleased by the fact. Hunching his shoulders, Enzo crossed his thick arms over his chest before he replied.
“Forget about dinner; I have to go into the office soon. I’ll be late again.”
“I could swing something by for you later if you want,” I offered. It was something I remembered my mother used to do. She would always make a plate for my father and take it to him if he had to work late. It made them both so happy.
“Don’t bother,” he said flatly, turning to the bathroom. I heard the shower start, and though I couldn’t see him, I did see when the shirt he had been wearing flew out of the doorway and landed in a heap on the living room floor. “In fact,” he called, his voice raised over the sound of the water, “I probably won’t be around for dinner all week.” I was still standing there, fuming at the direction this conversation had taken, when he stepped back into the living room.
At which point, all my angry thoughts flew out of my head.
Because there he stood before me, his shirt off and pants undone, a dark, tattooed god.
I knew Enzo was fit, having glanced at his shirtless form in the reflection of the window the other night, but I had had no real idea of just how cut he actually was. The man was chiseled perfection. His broad chest was covered in scrolling tattoos, the black ink swirling along the planes and valleys of his pecs before trailing down to frame his perfect six pack abs. As I looked closer, I could see the swirls weren’t random at all. They were actually tree branches, all stemming from a large and intricate trunk he had going up his left side. The branches were naked of leaves and spreading across his entire chest and up his throat. It was an interesting design, and I found myself staring. Again.
