"Enzo's Girl" |18+| Book 2 - Mafia in love

Chapter | Six

"Coming, Mamma," I tell her, and I walk to the bathroom to wash my face and my hands, and before I exit I glance once more at my reflection in the mirror.

I look pale and my lips are white and cracked and that makes me think I could use a little color, so I apply some blush and a pink lip gloss. Maybe a little mascara. Oh, and some perfume wouldn't hurt, right?

Feeling much better about myself, I walk out of the bedroom and get downstairs to the dining room where dad and Enzo are helping mom set the table for dinner.

"I thought she was going to bring Emillia to you," dad says while placing the plates on the table and Enzo bringing the glasses.

"I thought so too, but... she changed her mind at the last minute," Enzo replies with a sigh. "So, I advanced my trip here. Businesses have gone slow lately so..." he continues talking with dad, a fine line showing up between his frowned eyebrows.

"Who's Emillia?" I asked, stealing a cracker from the bowl my mom is bringing in, trying to look relaxed although the mere sight of Enzo makes my heartbeats go wild again.

"My daughter," Enzo replies, and I freeze, searching for his eyes to ask a 'what the hell!' but his eyes keep avoiding me, acting all cool and distant.

It seems like Enzo from the airport has been just my imagination.

I turn around and pretend I need a glass of water. Disappearing in the kitchen, I'm grateful for escaping that stiff tension out there.

My breathing is heavy, and I grab the kitchen island, leaning my entire body weight on my arms, waiting for my racing heart to slow down.

He has a daughter, so a woman in his life would be the next most natural thing, right?

"She is five," Enzo suddenly says, standing in my back and I jump out of my skin, turning around and meeting a brick chest right in my nose.

"What?" I mumble, lifting my frowned gaze to his face and there it is again, the lust in his eyes while staring at me.

"Emillia. She's my daughter. She's five years old, and her mother and I have never been together. It was just one drunken night mistake," he clarifies, and I don't understand why he feels the need to do it.

My breathing stops in my throat and I struggle to ease the growing anxiety keeping myself silent, though trapped in his stare.

"I don't care!" I spit at him, angry and overwhelmed by the desire I feel for him, turning me into a madly jealous woman with burning cheeks and eyes spitting fire.

I move out of the kitchen before he has any chance to reply, brushing myself against his arm, and leaving him behind.

Soon we've started dinner and I keep silent all along. They have been talking and talking about things from their past, catching up with news and stories I've never heard about.

We really look like a family around the dinner table.

Mom and dad are jovially talking, and the three of them are caught in stories of their past while I don't say a word, keeping myself away from their recollections and immersed in my own thoughts and the confusing attraction I feel for Enzo.

Each time I hear Eno laughing loudly, I steal a glare at him, following him leaning against the backrest of his chair, shaking his brawny chest and wide shoulders, which I shamelessly admire.

I've hardly eaten anything, playing with my food mostly, head leaned against my palm.

"Eve sweetheart, are you okay? You barely touched your food," mom says, breaking my thoughts.