Let Me Love You

The dining room table was covered in platters and dishes, and everything smelled amazing. Not that I could take credit for anything other than the salad. I was pretty sure Mrs. Costa didn’t trust my culinary skills.

At the feel of a warm body behind me, I closed my eyes, knowing it was Enzo. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tight to his frame, setting his chin on top of my head. “You okay?”

I wasn’t sure how much time we had alone before everyone joined us, so I shared my wine-induced thoughts. “Your mom hates me.”

“No way. She loves you.” He was quick to respond, but he wasn’t in the kitchen while his mom had given me the third degree, and I’d nearly caved to the pressure and shared the real reason we were in New York.

“All I know is that she doesn’t want me with you.” Not that she said that, but that’d been the vibe.

He turned me around and snatched my cheeks. “She doesn’t want me with you, that’s the issue. You’re a Romano, remember? My parents promised to protect you and Natalia. That’s all. And she thinks I’ll break your heart.” Worry lines cut across his forehead, and then he frowned. “My sister thinks the same.”

“She told you that?” I lifted my brows in surprise.

He let go of me and backed away, his eyes going to the entranceway as if checking to ensure we were still alone. “I came to see you earlier, and I overheard her talking to you. She doesn’t think I love her.”

Before I could respond, Isabella and her boyfriend came into the room, along with Mrs. Costa. “Looks like your dad will be late. He said to eat without him.”

Enzo let go of a deep, gruff breath. He must’ve been eager to talk to his father and let him know what was going on. Given his father’s past, maybe he could help.

“This is Pablo,” Isabella introduced him, and Pablo stepped forward, taking a bit too long in admiring my dress, and before I knew it, Enzo stepped around me, blocking my view of Isabella’s boyfriend.

“Your ears aren’t the only thing you’re in danger of losing,” Enzo sharply warned, and Isabella grabbed Pablo’s arm.

“He’s an artist. He’s just admiring beauty, and Maria is stunning.” Isabella’s excuse didn’t seem to do anything for Enzo, so I came by his side and gave Enzo a gentle nudge, hoping to redirect his focus.

“My girl is right.” Pablo smiled. “She’s an understanding woman. I paint women in the nude all the time. It’s just art.” He held open his palms as his gaze took a slow journey over my body again. “I’d love to—”

“If you say you want to paint Maria, I’ll fucking kill you,” Enzo remarked in a low, cutting voice.

“Enzo,” Isabella snapped. “Seriously? Why do you have to be such a dick?” She released Pablo’s arm and left the dining room, and their mom held up her hand, probably a directive to Enzo not to follow her. Not that Enzo would leave me alone with Pablo.

Isabella’s mom went after her, and Pablo’s shoulders shrank without his girlfriend there to protect him, and he stepped back—right into a wall of three other intimidating men.

Startled, Pablo turned to see Constantine, Alessandro, and Hudson there.

“What’s wrong?” Hudson was the first to ask, and he turned to the side, his attention lingering in the direction Isabella had run.

I walked my fingers up and down Enzo’s spine, hoping to calm him. He was wound tight for so many reasons, and the artist was about to get the brunt of all his anger.

“He wants to paint Maria naked,” Enzo said as Pablo twisted back around to face him.

“I’ll paint you both. I don’t care. A beautiful body is a beautiful body.” Pablo’s tone was borderline panic now. “Your sister lacks curves. Not much up top, either, if you know what I mean.” He held open his palms, eyes set on my chest as if he were considering touching me. Was the man insane?

And that had Enzo snapping. He reached out and circled Pablo’s throat with his hand.

“Let him go,” Constantine abruptly ordered, and it took Alessandro and Hudson prying Enzo away from Pablo to get Enzo to listen.

“You can’t choke every man who looks at me,” I reminded Enzo, then peered at Pablo as he held his throat. “But you are kind of an asshole. And Isabella deserves better.” I stepped forward. “So,” I began, nearly snarling, and my protective instincts kicked in, “if you don’t want these guys killing you in your sleep tonight, I suggest you apologize to Isabella and then leave.”

Pablo backed up, bumping into Alessandro, who did some ridiculous but cute kind of growl, and then Pablo took off after Isabella.

Enzo spun me around, clearly not giving a damn we weren’t alone, pinning me against his chest. His brows slanted as he held the sides of my arms. “What you said . . . that was hot as fuck.” Then he bent forward and captured my lips with a searing kiss.

But seconds later, his mother interrupted our moment. “Lorenzo Costa, what do you think you’re doing?”

Enzo took his sweet time peeling his mouth away from mine, and then he released my arms to face her. “Is Izzy okay?” he asked instead of acknowledging his mother’s question, and I knew my cheeks had to match my dress.

“I highly doubt it, since from the sounds of it, Pablo is threatening to break up with her because of her crazy family.” She cut her hands in the air and began yelling at him in Italian.

Hudson looked at me and shrugged, and oh . . . Hudson. It just dawned on me we’d yet to say hi, and the last time I saw him was in his office where we’d been exchanging banter six years ago before Enzo had kicked him out.

He nodded a small hello as if registering the same thought himself, and then he tipped his head to the side, suggesting we leave since this seemed to be a family fight.

We stepped out onto a balcony just off the dining room, and I spied two guards down below, walking the perimeter of the property near the water.

“You remember me?” I asked Hudson as he grabbed hold of the railing, and his eyes went to the cloudy sky that hid the last bit of sunlight as night loomed in the distance.

“I do.” He looked at me from over his shoulder. “I also know you’re the woman who’s been driving Enzo nuts the last two years in Charlotte.”

“Have I now?” I chuckled. “Why do I feel like that’s a guess? I doubt Enzo would tell anyone that.” Well, would he?

“They’re Constantine’s words. But Enzo talks to his brothers regularly.”

Oh. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised by that. Maybe it was the fact he never told me they had heart-to-heart talks like I did with Natalia.

“Sorry about your ex. I heard he was the cause for this morning’s scare.” He let go of the railing, fully facing me.

“Yeah, I’m still not sure how to wrap my head around that. He’s my daughter’s father, but you saw Enzo with Pablo just now . . . I don’t know what he’ll do to—”

“He won’t. I’m sure he wants to, though,” he cut me off. “But hurting your daughter’s father would hurt your daughter. And from what Constantine’s said, Enzo loves that little girl like she’s his own. He’d never do anything to hurt her. Or you.”

I wanted to believe him. But did he not see just how quickly Enzo had gone overboard in choking Pablo?

“Pablo deserved that,” Hudson said, and I was beginning to wonder if I was truly that easy to read. Did I have a thought bubble over my head? “Pablo’s on something. High as a kite.”

“Wait, really? How could you tell?”

“Pupils blown and stupidly honest.”

Right. Wow. “Well, I suppose he did more than meditate in the pool house.”

“Bella has horrible taste in men.”

“Bella, huh?” I stared at him with curiosity. “I’ve never heard anyone call her that.”

The side of his lip hitched as if fighting a smile, but instead, he shrugged.

“You know,” I began, unable to stop myself, “my brother-in-law was the only one to call my sister Talia. And now they’re married. Maybe—”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” he interrupted, smiling now. “And no, she’s too young for me.” He slid a finger beneath his chin. “Don’t have a death wish, either.”

“Fair enough.” I peeked back through the french doors into the dining room, but it was empty now. Maybe the guys had gone after Isabella to apologize? I doubted it was to stop Pablo from leaving. “How’d you meet the Costa family?”

“I moved from Texas to New York when I was sixteen. I met Constantine in high school, and we became friends.”

“You’re the same age?” It was hard for me to imagine Hudson over forty, but then I remembered the brief timeline Enzo had provided, so I supposed it made sense.

“Yeah. Over-the-hill. Officially,” he said with an easygoing smile.

“And you were close to Bianca, too?” I regretted the question immediately, since his lips flatlined, and he faced the water and white-knuckled the railing.

“Yeah, we were friends. The last memory I have of her was trying to get me to come to her monthly book club meeting. Pretty sure she was really trying to set me up with someone there.”

I thought back to Hudson’s bar, remembering all the books in his office. “Right, you’re a reader, too.”

He nodded without looking at me. “I should’ve just gone to her book club. Made her happy, you know? Instead, I now have to remember disappointing her as my last memory. How fucking depressing is that?”

I wasn’t sure what to do right now, but it didn’t seem appropriate to pat his back or hug him. So I whispered, “Try and focus on the good memories instead.” Wow, was that the best I could do?

My list of things I sucked at was growing. Couldn’t draw. Write. Act. Or talk poignantly.

I’m a good mom, I tried to remind myself. But was I a failure at that, too?

“Yeah, sure. Good memories. I’ll think about those,” he remarked flatly.

And damn, I knew that tone of voice. Cold and detached. Friendly Hudson was now gone, and I had the feeling the man Enzo had warned me to stay away from six years ago because he could only “fuck just to fuck” was about to show his face.

“I better check on them.” He gave me a tight nod, then bailed, leaving me alone on the balcony, and I rolled my eyes at how not-smooth I could be in conversations.

I shivered as the mild September breeze blew my hair in front of my face, and I swiped my palms up and down my arms over my sleeves to warm up.

“I’m sorry about that.” I flinched at the deep voice behind me, then slowly turned to face Enzo. He skimmed my cheek with the back of his hand.

“How’s Isabella?”

“Pablo left. He broke up with her, and now Izzy’s in her room refusing to speak to any of us.” He shook his head. “I can’t be sorry about it, though. He was a fucking idiot.”

“She just needs time and space. She’ll be okay.”

“Hope so.” He set his other hand at my hip. “Are you mad at me?”

“For going caveman on the guy?”

A slight smile tugged at his lips. “Is that what it’s called?” He grabbed my ass and squeezed. “I think I’m just a bit tense.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” I slipped my hands between us and set them on his chest. “I’m guessing dinner is canceled?”

“Unless you’re hungry, I was thinking we could talk before I go.”

I blinked in confusion, pulling away at his words. “Where are you going?”

“Let’s go to my old room.” He offered his hand, and I hesitantly accepted it, allowing the heat from his body to warm me up as we walked the length of the balcony to get to the bedroom.

Once there, he locked the french doors and closed the floor-to-ceiling curtains. Annnd we probably should’ve done that earlier when I was on his lap having him finger me into orgasming.

“Where are you going?” I asked again, hoping for an answer this time as I sat at the edge of his bed, willing my nerves to dial down. But it’d been a long day. The two glasses of Chianti were doing nothing to extinguish the anxiety coiled tight in my stomach, chest, and pretty much every part of my body.

He locked the bedroom door next, then stood before me. “Jesse located the man who should know who really killed Bianca. And we need to go to Syracuse tonight,” he finally shared, and that was a good thing, right? “The thing is, he’s in the CIA’s custody, which means we have to break him out. We won’t hurt anyone. Rubber bullets.”

I would’ve fallen onto my ass had I not already been seated. “But you could get hurt? Arrested?” A million other horrific things, too. And now my heart was racing ten times faster, and I could feel my pulse pumping all the way into my ears.

“I won’t. This isn’t my first time doing something like this.”

“First time breaking someone out of a secure location, or first time going up against the Central freaking Intelligence Agency?” My voice squeaked. High-pitched panic that I was incapable of hiding had my hands turning to nervous balls at my sides. I was going to visit this man in a morgue or prison, wasn’t I?

“Hey, it’s okay.” Enzo dropped to his knees before me. He snatched my fists as if they were fragile pieces of glass and covered them with his hands.

“Nothing about this is okay,” I cried, the shudder in my chest escaping through my voice. “Please don’t go.”

“Maria, I promise I’ll be fine, and I won’t hurt anyone.”

“But you plan to torture this man you’re kidnapping from the CIA, right?” I couldn’t even swipe at the tears because he had such a hold on my hands, and I didn’t have the energy to pull away.

His quiet nod had my stomach turning. “You’re not just good with a knife in the kitchen,” I blurted, my irrational fears washing over me and coming true before my eyes.

He lowered his gaze to my lap, where he kept hold of my hands. “I’m good with my hands in multiple ways, I guess,” he said in a solemn tone. “I’d rather cook, though.”

Then slice and dice a man? Oh jeez. There went my stomach again. Tip-tilt-twirling around. “The middle of your story. Just tell me now. Please. Rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with, because I’m pretty sure I’ve already filled in the blanks myself anyway.” My gaze climbed up the ink on his exposed forearm, the one with the rosary inked there.

“How detailed do you want it?” he asked, an uneasy expression crossing his face.

“I, um, don’t need to know exactly how you killed that man. I’m guessing you made him suffer, though.” At his nod, my pulse climbed. “Just tell me what you think I need to know.”

“I can do that.” He looked up for a moment, as if searching for the courage to reveal his past.

I could feel his fear that I’d hate him afterward in the squeeze of my hands. See the guilt vividly in the lines of his face when our eyes once again met.

“The deal my brothers and I were offered to avoid prison time was with the US government,” he finally began. “I don’t even know the name of the group we worked for, but they weren’t CIA or FBI. Not the NSA or Homeland Security. And it doesn’t matter anymore, they were disbanded three years ago, and our contract was voided early.” He paused for a breath. “Those years after Bianca’s death, my brothers and I were basically unpaid mercenaries for the government. We were sent on ops around the world a few times a year but without backup or support. We were on our own if caught. My path also crossed with Jesse’s on occasion during that time.”

Well, that didn’t sound horrible. I could handle that.

“The thing is, we were really good at what we did. Really fucking good. And it was hard for us to look away when we saw injustices happening all around us. People going unpunished for crimes they committed because of legal bullshit. And as long as we did what we were told by the government, they didn’t seem to care if we went off on our own from time to time.”

“What do you mean? Like what your dad did in Italy?”

He offered only a tight nod, letting me know there were details I didn’t need to hear, and I wouldn’t want to, either.

“So when Natalia offered you the job at the restaurant, you took it because you were done with your government contract and . . . what? You decided to quit being a vigilante, too?”

“I didn’t like the person I was, Maria. The path I was on was a dark one. And I knew Bianca wouldn’t approve, so yeah, I decided to quit and leave New York. My brothers agreed to quit as well.” He let go of my hands and shifted back, sinking onto his heels, remaining looking up at me like a man searching for forgiveness. “It’s not like we went around killing everyone we deemed a bad guy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I wasn’t, but I can’t get that horrific image out of my head now.”

Sure, I loved the morally gray men in romance novels who’d burn down the world for the woman they loved. But that was fiction. Could I handle it in the real world?

“I’m sorry.” He set a fist at his side and pushed up off the floor to stand. “I can tell this is too much for you, and that’s why I didn’t want to make love before you knew the truth. I knew that you—”

“Stop.” I rose to stand before him. “It is a lot, you’re right. And I’m processing, sure. But don’t put words in my mouth.” I grabbed hold of his shirt, and his jaw clenched as he lowered his eyes to my hand. “But I need to know if there’s more to your story. Or any other half-truths. Lies?”

“Maria.” His hand tangled in my hair, cupping the back of my head, demanding my attention. “I’ve only truly lied to you once.”

“What was it?”

Bending in, drawing his lips closer, he exhaled a jagged breath over my skin. “That I could only be your friend.”

He wound my hair around his fist and tugged, drawing my lips up like an offering, and he waited to see if I’d take it or refuse him.

His focus ran down between us, blazing a trail of heat over my skin as he looked at me. Finding my eyes again, he rasped, “I told you before, you hold the power over me, so tell me what you want, Tesoro. Am I letting go of you, or are we making love?”