Page 39 of The Bonventi Secret
It’s the first time he’s looked at me that way. It’s not a look of calculation, it’s a genuine look of interest, as in "I’m liking what I’m seeing" kind of look—and I like it.
"Feeling refreshed?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
I nod, unable to speak. The only thing I can think of is getting into bed, covering myself up, and having the lights go off so my eyes can stop wandering.
"Is everything alright? You seem a little tense," Enzo asks.
"I’m fine," I lie. "I’m just tired, that’s all."
I slide under the covers, my body tense as I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling. Enzo shifts beside me.
"Good night, cara mia," he says.
"Good night," I say back.
The light clicks off, plunging the room into total darkness. I hear Enzo’s breathing slow beside me, and I try to focus on anything but his presence. I reach up and fiddle with my skull pendant around my neck, the familiar motion calming my nerves.
Suddenly, I become acutely aware of the heat radiating from Enzo’s body. It’s then that I realize my mistake—I forgot to put up the pillow barrier.
My heart races. I should move, I think. I should grab a pillow and create that physical barrier between us. But my body refuses to cooperate. Instead, I find myself drawn to his warmth, like a moth to a flame.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Some of my barriers are starting to crack, crumble, and fall. It’s not just the physical barrier of pillows I’ve forgotten. It’s the emotional walls I’ve built around myself, the determination to hate this man who’s upended my life.
I grip my pendant tighter, trying to ground myself. But it’s no use.
My mind races, replaying every interaction we’ve had. The way he looked at me in the library earlier, the intensity in his eyes when we discuss literature, the gentleness in his touch when he steadied me on the stairs. I try to remind myself of who he is, what he’s done. He’s taken me from my life, forced me into this marriage. He’s a criminal, maybe even a killer.
But then I think of the library he’s given me, the way he listens when I talk about my research. The respect in his voice when he quotes authors I love.
I’m drawn to him in a way I can’t explain or control. It’s as if there are two versions of me now—the one who wants to fightand resist, and the one who wants to give in to this inexplicable attraction.
As I lie there, torn between conflicting desires, I realize that this is more dangerous than any physical threat. This emotional vulnerability, this growing attraction—it has the power to destroy me in ways I never imagined.
I should repair some of my barriers, but as I drift off to sleep, Enzo’s warmth seeps into my bones, and I’m not sure I have the strength—or even the desire—to do so.
ENZO - 14
Isit in the backseat of my black Bentley, staring out the window. The familiar streets of Chicago blur past.
"Ten minutes, Mr. Bonventi," my driver calls from the front seat.
I nod, though he can't see me.
And while tonight's meeting is important, my mind, however, is elsewhere. Livia's image lingers in my thoughts. I find myself wondering what she's doing at this moment, whether she's immersed in her research or exploring the depths of my library. Both are better than when she's out with Alex. Even though Alessandro is loyal, the idea of another man spending so much time with Livia makes me…" I clench my hand and take a deep breath.
For a distraction, I reach out and grab the small leather-bound book on the seat beside me. It's a unique collection of Victorian poetry, found by my rare books dealer, and one that I think Livia would appreciate. At first, I considered keeping it for myself,using it to impress her with a well-timed quote or two, but that would mean I am starting to care what she thinks of me.
Am I?
I loosen my tie slightly, feeling constricted. The Armani suit I'm wearing suddenly feels suffocating. I'm just not used to this vulnerability.
Forget it, I'll just give it to her as a gift.
The car turns onto a quiet side street, and I see the warm glow of La Sfera Nera's windows. My restaurant. A place where I feel in control.
But lately, with Livia…
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I have an important meeting ahead. I can't afford to be distracted by thoughts of chestnut hair and perfect, sun-kissed olive skin.
