Deluca

FIVE

Eleanor woke up the next morning pretty early, but there was no sign that Francesco had even been in the room the night prior. Eleanor attempted to absorb her disappointment, but it worsened once she realized that the house was empty. Downstairs on the counter in the kitchen, Eleanor found a note on the table explaining the absence.

The house felt larger with no one in it, and everyone one of her footsteps echoed. Still, it hadn't felt as strange as it had before. She imagined herself waking up every day calling a place like this home. While she had always called it a castle, Giuseppe had been sure to correct her by saying that it was a villa.

Eleanor made herself a cup of coffee, enjoying the silence in the house. It didn't get quite often, and with family arriving every day and taking up yet another room. She let her mind travel to Francesco from the night before. He was someone who made her incredibly curious.

It was like he was a puzzle; one she had been putting together piece by piece until she got the whole picture. In moments that they were alone, she saw him open up the most. She wondered if anyone else noticed how his brow was always furrowed when he was around a crowd of people.

She knew they hadn't noticed how calm he appears when it was just her and him alone in a room together.

Eleanor admired the home for a moment before she heard the front doors opening, ruining her twenty minutes of peace. Eleanor walked to the foyer expecting to see a familiar face, but the man who stood there was certainly not familiar.

He stood tall in the foyer, his muscle built as though he spent large amounts of time a day working on them. He had hair that was cut and styled short. In his hand had been a duffle bag and he was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt.

What stood out the most was the long scar that started at his hairline and ran down to his jaw, making him look even more intimidating than the arms filled with tattoos.

When he noticed Eleanor, he gave her a charming smile, "Great! Someone is here to make me a drink."

"E-excuse me." Eleanor stuttered, wondering who this man is.

He walked over to Eleanor in two large strides before offering his hand, "Enzo Vidal, the Best Man." Eleanor looked at his large, calloused hand before giving him another untrustworthy glance, finally taking it, and shaking it.

"No one told me you were coming."

Enzo walked past Eleanor into the kitchen, setting the bag down on the marble countertop, causing the contents to rattle.

"I didn't tell anyone I was coming." Enzo sat at one of the stools, "You going to make my drink?"

Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest, "It's nine o clocks in the morning."

"And it's three in the morning in New York, where I am sure I would be drinking three fingers of Jose Cuervo right now."

Eleanor smirked at him, realizing that while his appearance was intimidating, he had the most familiar personality out of everyone that she had met so far. Eleanor walked over to the cabinet where the liquor was stored and began to make him a drink.

"Luckily for you, this is my favorite drink too," Eleanor said, pouring them both a drink.

Enzo accepted his glass and immediately drank it, before slamming down the glass for another.

"Who would've thought Giuseppe would know how to pick a woman," Enzo commented as he watched Eleanor pour.

"Oh," Eleanor said, "So you know this is all a lie?" Eleanor slid him the glass but this time, Enzo wasn't so eager to drink it.