Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Fuck, she’s telling the truth: Enzo is the middle kid and his older brother is his father’s right-hand man and his little sister, Kate, hangs out with their cousin, Bianca, getting into clubs and bars that she otherwise wouldn’t be permitted to step foot in since she’s only seventeen.
“I give off middle child vibes?” he asks and then they both laugh.
“Hey, I do, too. But I have an older sister and a younger brother who can do no harm. I love my sister, but she’s little Miss Perfect in my father’s eyes.” I know that’s a lie, but it’s a good one. She’s mirroring herself to Enzo’s real life, making him feel closer. Damn, she really is good.
Enzo orders another drink and they carry on the conversation. Mira tells him how overlooked she felt growing up and how even now she feels like her family looks down on her.
“I can relate,” Enzo says, clinking a glass down on the table. “You gotta take it to extremes to show you’re worthy.”
Silence fills the airspace and I inhale, waiting for Mira to talk. “What kind of extremes?”
“The kind that lets them know you can take care of shit.”
“With the bakery?”
“Yeah. It’s a cut-throat business.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that regular folk don’t know about,” Mira goes on. They start talking about something else, and Enzo seems a little agitated the entire time, rushing through dinner but ordering two more drinks.
Finally, the bill comes, he pays, and he tells Mira they should “get outta here”. It’s another nice night and it’s going to be rainy the next few days, as Mira pointed out, so he says they should take a walk. A phone rings as they get outside and Enzo mumbles something we can’t make out.
“More problems with the bakery?” Mira asks a full minute later.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Oh, good. Where…where is this bakery? Maybe I can grab a muffin in the morning sometime.”
“It’s too far for that.”
“Oh, okay.”
Fabric rustles against the wire. “Don’t cross your arms,” I whisper to Mira.
“I do have to go take care of business,” Enzo starts, “but I have some time. Let’s go to my place.”
“It’s okay,” Mira rushes out. “I want to take our time so let’s do it next time.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill,” Enzo says and my blood instantly starts to boil. “I have some time to kill and I’m stressed. Don’t you want to help ease my stress, baby?”
“The guy’s a fucking creep,” Diego grumbles, shaking his head. “Can your girl handle this or do we gotta get her out?”
“She’s not my girl,” I shoot back. “But she’s got this.”
“Let’s walk this way,” Mira tells Enzo and everyone in the van holds their breath, waiting.
“Isn’t that them?” Evan asks, pointing at one of the cameras.
“It is,” Diego answers and I look over. There are cameras on every side of the van, and Mira knows roughly where we are parked. Is she walking this way on purpose?
“Do you need to answer that?” Mira asks just so we know his phone is ringing again. “Sounds like you have a real work issue going on.”
“Nah. I’ll call them back,” Enzo tells her.
There’s about a second and a half glitch between the live-stream audio and the camera footage.
“Matt, let’s slow things down,” Mira says and then the mic picks up more rustling or fabric. I blink, heart rate spiking, when I see Enzo step in front of Mira.
His hands land on her waist.
Oh, fuck no.
“Matt,” she says in protest and brings her hands up, trying to push him away.
“Come on, baby.” Enzo steps in and I’m already pulling my headset off, ready to jump out and take the motherfucker down. Because no one touches Mira and gets away with it.
Chapter
Twenty-One
MIRA
Idon’t know how I’m going to get out of this one unscathed. Or, rather, how I’m going to push Enzo back, tell him that I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole if I was paid a million dollars, and then want him to see me again.
“Baby,” he tries again and my stomach churns. I’m not his damn baby. “Let’s go back to my place. I’ll treat you right, take care of some business, and then we’ll go shopping in the morning. Anywhere you like.”
“Oh wow,” I say, hoping I can stall him by talking. “That’s so generous of you.”
“I’ve been told I’m generous in other areas, too.”
His hands, which are already on my waist, tighten as his fingers press into me—painfully. He takes a step forward, trying to press against me.
Suddenly, a car door slams and the sound of footsteps fills the air. A group of passersby gasp and Enzo turns. I use the distraction to break away, seeing a man in dark clothing sprint toward us. He pulls his shirt up, covering most of his face, and dark shadows are cast over his eyes. I should be scared, yet for some reason I know right away that it’s Mason.