Chapter 20: The shadow after sunrise

The scent of jasmine lingered pretty faintly across the air, though the sun had begun stretching slowly across the morning sky.

Sherry stirred slowly, her lashes fluttering open against buttery morning light spilling languidly through gauzy curtains in a hazy daze.

The Sheets felt overly starched and weirdly pristine on her side, still eerily cold beneath her fingertips in the morning's dim hush. She stretched out a trembling hand instinctively in the air.

Utterly devoid of content or meaning, an eerily silent space exists. Her heart twisted slightly inside her chest suddenly.

She sat up quickly with a silk robe slipping off one shoulder and immediately sensed something was off.

Silence fell heavily over the room, not with peaceful serenity, but weighed down by something deeply unsettling that lurked just beneath the surface.

Her gaze swooped erratically toward the open wardrobe with astonishing swiftness. Bare hooks dangle listlessly.

She blinked vigorously and turned abruptly toward the luggage rack with sudden fervor. Their luggage was all packed tightly already.

Unease prickled slowly up her spine, and her heart pounded furiously. Was he abandoning the ship or merely taking a leisurely stroll outside, perhaps with some furtive glances over his shoulder?

Enzo strode in looking polished and commanding, already wearing a dark, tailored shirt clinging tightly to his lean frame with sleeves rolled up.

His hair got slicked back rather neatly, and his jaw seemed unusually sharp today under harsh morning light.

He appeared utterly resolute like some guy having made numerous crucial decisions before even having a cup of coffee that morning.

Something about his stride seemed confident yet restrained enough that air rippled noticeably around him the moment he strode into a room.

His presence swallowed attention whole with an almost ferocious intensity and seemed utterly insatiable.

The soft thud of the door behind him echoed like a countdown, and Sherry felt an intense burn of unspoken things pressing heavily against her chest.

His gaze roved around a room once before settling on her and lingering with icy calculation rather than warmth, as though she was simultaneously a fragile entity and a lethal presence.

Sherry rose from bed with a silk robe whispering against her thighs as she clutched it rather tightly, her fingers curling into the fabric like some armor.

She stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, her heart pounding fiercely beneath a flimsy silk barrier with frantic, irregular beats.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice still pretty hoarse from slumber now sharpened by rising unease and growing apprehension very quickly.

He looked at her for a beat, unreadable.

"Why are our bags packed?"

He looked at her for a beat, unreadable. Then his tone softened, though his eyes remained guarded. "Get dressed. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Her voice caught. "Where?"

He moved toward the window, drawing the curtains wider. "Tokyo. We have a three-day business meeting. And on the third night, there's a formal dinner party with some of my partners."

Sherry blinked, stunned. "Tokyo? Just like that?"

"You'll be safe there," he said carefully, his back still to her. "This place is compromised."

And suddenly, the memory of last night slammed back into her. The stranger-his eyes cold and cruel, the sharp edge of his threat slicing through the warm, balmy air.

Enzo's sudden appearance, the explosive violence of his protection, and the way he carried her back like she weighed nothing. How his silence afterward had chilled more than comforted.

She hugged herself. "You think the attack...?"

"It wasn't random," Enzo said, his voice harder now. "It was a warning."

"From whom?"

He turned back to her, his eyes dark. "That's what I intend to find out. But first, you need to be out of reach."

Sherry nodded slowly, the vulnerability in her belly tightening like a knot. "I'll get ready."

He gave a short nod and turned to leave-but paused at the doorway.

"And Sherry?"

She glanced up.

"You look shaken, but you're not broken. Don't let fear write your story."

Her chest rose with a trembling breath. "I won't."

An armored black SUV awaited them at the villa gates, flanked by three other vehicles.

Guards clad in sharp black attire, sporting earpieces, stood vigilantly on alert, scanning every nook of the property with keen eyes.

Sherry slid silently into the back seat beside Enzo. She attempted hesitantly to ask about the sudden escalation, but his hand reached quickly for her firm, warm grounding.

He said, rather bluntly, "We're not taking any chances whatsoever."

The drive was smooth, albeit pretty tense under the starry night sky at the private airfield. Silence fell heavily.

Enzo stood murmuring Italian phrases under his breath, issuing clipped instructions in quite powerful tones on his cell phone suddenly.

Sherry gazed out a window, trying desperately for solace amidst swiftly passing palms and a gilded horizon glowing faintly there.

Morning's beauty felt contrived, like some half-baked set dressing for a theatrical production she hadn't been privy to auditioning for.

Their private jet gleamed on the tarmac like a silver bullet. Guards swarmed around the perimeter as they boarded quickly under heavy security.

Sherry felt regal, almost majestic, yet simultaneously like a bullseye on her forehead under intense scrutiny.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She sank into a butter-soft leather chair inside the jet while Enzo poured a glass of orange juice for her very slowly. She whispered thanks under her breath.

Inside the jet, she sank into the butter-soft leather chair while Enzo poured her a glass of orange juice.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He watched her for a long moment, then sat across from her, laptop in hand.

Sherry studied his straight posture, the faint furrow in his brow, and the quiet but clear tension in his jaw. He was pulled back again last night after saving them from unknown people, constructing walls just when she thought he was ready to let them crumble.

Was this how it would always be? Hot, then cold. Possessive, then distant.

She sipped the juice and whispered, "Was the honeymoon ever real to you?"

His eyes flicked up to her, something unreadable flashing behind them.

He didn't answer.

They landed in Tokyo to a blur of camera flashes and tight security. The moment the jet door opened, the sultry humidity of Tokyo summer swept over them. Black cars waited. More guards. More eyes.

Enzo placed a hand on her lower back as they walked toward the convoy.

Her skin tingled for a long time afterward, and contact had been fleeting. Sleek glass buildings towered above them, surrounded by neon signs and filled with the sweet scent of cherry blossoms and lurking danger.

Stepping into it felt eerily like sinking into some profound dream or fiendishly clever trap.

Their car wove haphazardly through bustling streets toward REX Tower, a posh high-rise property owned by Enzo quite lucratively.

They bypassed lavish hotel check-in and rode the elevator straight up to the penthouse suite, his oft-used private residence whenever he visited Tokyo recently.

The luxurious suite boasted floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Tokyo Bay and a shimmering private infinity pool under the starry night sky.

Sherry sauntered over, pressing fingers gently against the cold glass. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

Enzo carried their bags inside the penthouse, loosened his collar, and came to stand beside her.

"I bought this building four years ago," he said. "But I've never stayed more than two nights."

She turned to him. "Why?"

His jaw tightened. "Because luxury doesn't distract me from war."

She flinched. The air between them thickened. She wanted to reach for him. But he turned away first, shrugging off his jacket.

"Rest tonight. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

He walked toward the bedroom, then paused.

"I had new security protocols implemented. No one enters this floor without my approval. You're safe here."

Sherry swallowed and nodded, but as she stared at the back of his suit disappearing through the door, she couldn't help the bitter taste coming up to her throat.

Safe? Maybe.

But trust?

That was slipping further away every hour.