Page 61 of Secrets of the Brother
Enzo.
My Enzo.
Letting go of him had been nearly impossible before. I didn't know how I was going to manage it now. Before, what we had was like an ideal version of dating, almost a fantasy. I had often even wondered if it had been real.
But now? Now I knew what I felt for him was real.
And raw. And intense. And painful.
Only real love hurts like this.
Before, I had held him up in my mind as this ideal boyfriend, an almost girlish blend of bittersweet memories and myth.
Now he was a flesh and blood man.
Now I knew what it felt like to have him press his weight down on me, to feel him move between my thighs…to be inside of me.
I closed my eyes.
Even now I could almost imagine the scent of his cologne.
A warm hand closed over mine.
My eyes sprang open.
Before I could react, a strong arm wrapped around my waist as a body stepped close.
Enzo whispered darkly in my ear. “Miss me, my treasure?”
My lips opened, but no sound came out.
He raised our clasped hands to his lips and blew out the taper. We were surrounded by a soft swirl of smoke and the lingering scent of sulfur, the signs of a demon’s entrance.
I finally found my voice. “What are you doing here?”
His fingers pressed into my side. “I’ve come to hear your confession,” he ground out.
My brow furrowed. Then realization dawned.
My conversation with Milana. It must have gotten back to Enzo.
Madonna santa!
My gaze flashed up to the sightless eyes of the Madonna statue.
Even she could not help me now.
I spun around to face him, knowing outrage would be my only defense.
I jutted my chin out as I tilted my head back. “What a pity to learn that even Milana Carbone, who once hated your family as much as I do now, has fallen prey to the Cavalieri curse. It didn’t take long for your family to turn her into a deceitful bitch willing to do your bidding.”
His jaw clenched as he bared his front teeth. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, little girl. So I suggest you tread very carefully.”
I backed away from him.
Unfortunately, his imposing form was blocking the main exit to the church, so I had no choice but to move further into the dark interior.
A quick glance over my shoulder showed that we were alone in the gothic, cavernous space. The widows having completed their task of decorating the altar.
