Chapter 80 Get Ready For Your Birthday
Rose
I spend the rest of the day answering emails and watching TV. By evening, I'm actively anticipating Enzo's return. This morning, I would have done anything to avoid him, thanks to our kiss last night, but now I have questions. Questions that require answers. As soon as I hear his footsteps, I get out of bed.
And I head for the door. When I open it, Enzo is leaning against the wall on the other side, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Hey," I say. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," he informs me.
I nod, despite the nerves clenching in the pit of my stomach. "Yeah. I need to talk to you, too. I wanted to ask about Denise."
A dark brown eyebrow rises. "Denise?"
"Yes. Your aunt. Did you know she was sick?" I asked.
"Did you see her?" He asked, too.
"Earlier today," I confirm. "I think she was going for a walk with Isabella. Enzo, she... she doesn't look well."
He sighs. "I know. Losing her husband was quite a blow to her. I tried to help her, but she doesn't trust me. A doctor came to examine her. I spoke to him once, and he told me she'd get better with time. I can't interfere beyond that. What did she tell you?"
I shake my head. "Nothing."
"Liar. She was probably talking about how undeserving I am of my position. It's funny because it's my fucking birthright," Enzo smirks. "Her husband and his brother were never meant to be in charge. They didn't have what it took, and they paid for it."
"Still, you can't blame her for how she feels," I mutter. "You killed her husband."
"He would have been dead anyway," Enzo declares. "All I did was speed up the process. If you ask me, I gave him a merciful death. Knowing your brother, he would have been tortured for a long time before they finally killed him."
I clench my jaw, trying my best not to think about his words.
"It makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?" Enzo asks.
A slight smirk appears on his face as he pushes away from the wall and stands before me. He's still wearing his suit, though he's taken off his jacket. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. I swallow softly as his hand reaches up, and he gently runs his hand through my hair.
"We kill people, Princess," he says quietly. "You were born into the Cosa Nostra. You should be used to it by now."
I look him straight in the eyes: "I'm not a killer. And I'll never be satisfied with what you do. The only thing I can do is ignore it."
He smiles. "Then you'll ignore it for the rest of your life. Too bad; I kind of wanted a wife who was a little more...supportive."
I look at him and pull away from his grip. His hand clenches into a fist, and he steps back against the wall.
"What did you want to talk about?" I asked him.
"Our kiss," he answers bluntly.
His expression doesn't even flicker. Meanwhile, my heart skips a few beats.
"What about it?" I ask in the most normal voice I can manage.
"I realized we didn't set any ground rules." He said.
"Ground rules," I repeat dryly.
"Yeah. In case you haven't noticed, darling, I value control. I fucking hate it when something throws me off. And our kiss last night..." He trails off. "I just want us to have a clear idea ofwhere we stand."
I hate the way he treats this. An arrangement. A business agreement. Which, after all, is exactly what it is. A pretense I'll have to commit to forever. It slips my mind for a moment. Anger flares in my chest.
I lift my chin, looking at him. "You don't need to worry about your precious control. And if you need ground rules, here's one: we won't kiss again unless it's in public, to prove the legitimacy of our marriage. Besides, you can leave me the hell alone."
Heat flares in his eyes. "Don't be angry, darling."
"Stop calling me that," I snap.
He runs a hand through his hair. "I didn't come here to fight."
"I know. You came to assert your precious control. Don't worry, I understand perfectly. What else would you like to talk about?"
I can see he wants to say something else, but he seems to be convincing himself not to.
"You received an invitation to La Mirage in a few days, right?" he asks.
"Yes. Why?"
La Mirage is an exclusive event held annually for New York socialites. As a member of one of the major Mafia families, I get an invitation every year. Although I usually don't go, mainly because a fight always breaks out before the evening ends.
Male egos can be annoyingly delicate. And putting most of New York's rich, powerful people in one room is bound to lead to some form of disaster.
"We're going together," Enzo informs me. "Our chance to announce our engagement."
I'm not in the mood to argue, so all I do is nod curtly. "Great. Is that all?"
"Uh-huh." He nodded.
"Goodnight, Enzo."
I turn to go back to my room, then stop, realizing something. Very carefully, I turn around. "One quick question, though: do you plan to remain celibate for the rest of your life?"
His lips curl into a smile. "And why the hell would I want to remain celibate?"
"We simply agreed to be intimate only when necessary and in public. I'm just worried that all this solitary activity might lead to some problems." I said.
"Don't worry, Princess," he says with a smirk. "I'm sure we can find a way to make this arrangement work."
I'm stunned by his answer. "What do you mean?"
He approaches me, and my breath catches as he gently brushes the hair from my forehead.
"Get ready for your birthday party, your brother is waiting for you, Rose."
He leaves, leaving me with more questions than answers. My lip curls in disgust. Of all people, my brother had to arrange my marriage to the most annoyingly obscure and obscure person in the world.