Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

I feel like I've entered the twilight zone or something. I'm in the home of a Valentino. I thought it would take months to get myself this close. I'm not prepared for it to be happening now. I know he just left the room to take a call from his father. I should try to listen, but the risk of getting caught eavesdropping this soon isn't worth it. I need to get him to trust me first.

Which is why, when he walks back into the kitchen, I haven't moved an inch. "You didn't get food," Enzo states. It's not a question.

"I'm really not hungry. But I appreciate the offer," I tell him.

Ignoring me, Enzo piles a bunch of bacon, sausages, and eggs on a plate. He then butters two pieces of toast, adding them to the top before setting it all on the table. "Come sit down and eat. You'll feel better once you do." He then turns back towards the stove and dishes up a second plate.

I lower myself into a chair, feeling all sorts of awkward. But when he sits across from me and smiles, something happens. My stomach flutters and my heart picks up speed. Not out of fear, out of excitement. Is it the thrill of the chase? I don't think so, and judging by the way my panties dampen, it's nothing but pure lust.

I'm lusting after a criminal. What was in that drink last night? I must be losing my mind.

I pick up a piece of bacon, because I need to do something with my free hand. My other one is still firmly gripping the scissors. I don't know what he's up to here, but I'd be a damn fool to trust a Valentino.

"Why did you help me last night? You don't even know me," I ask him.

"I'm an asshole, babe. There's no doubting that. But I'm not about to sit by and let any woman be assaulted. I'm not that kind of asshole," he says.

"Why did you take my picture? In that lecture hall?"

"I told you I was appreciating the art in the room." Enzo lifts one bare shoulder.

Where is his shirt? And why isn't it on?

"And I'm art?" My eyebrows almost hit my hairline.

"You, my piccolo ladro, are the single most beautiful thing I've ever seen. If that doesn't make you art, I don't know what does," he tells me.

I blink. Twice, then three times. Nope, he's still there. Sitting right across from me. His eyes searing through me like a flame, heating my body from the inside out. I can feel my cheeks burning up. And judging by the tilt of Enzo's lips, he can see my discomfort.

"I—uh, I'm not sure what to even say to that."

"You don't have to say anything. What are you doing tonight?" he asks.

"Studying?" My answer comes out as a question.

Enzo chuckles. "Let me take you out for dinner."

"Why?" I counter, my voice doing little to hide my shock.

"Because I like you, and you like me," he states.

Canting my head to the side, I glare at him. "What makes you think I like you?"

"The way your pulse speeds up when you look at me. The fact that you're squeezing your thighs together, trying to ease the need you're feeling right now. The redness of your cheeks. The way your breath has quickened because you know I'm right."

"Whether you're right or not is irrelevant. Bodies can be attracted to a person without the mind being the least bit stimulated. Just because my body reacts to yours doesn't mean I like you. I don't know you. For all I know, you could be a serial killer," I tell him.

"So you like what you see, then?" Enzo runs a hand down his bare chest with a smirk that I'm sure melts the panties off thousands of women.

I roll my eyes and push up from the table. "Thank you for breakfast, but I really do need to get home."

"Sure, give me a sec. I need to put on a shirt. If I go outside like this, I'm bound to get mauled." He laughs. "Although… I wouldn't be opposed to you mauling me." He jumps up and winks, while walking backwards out of the dining room.

As much as I try to fight the smile that forms on my lips, I can't. Honestly, the idea of mauling this man's body isn't unappealing. Unethical, maybe. But definitely not unappealing.

I can't go there. Can I?

I've never been tempted to get involved with a mark before. And I'm not about to throw my whole career away now because of some cocky, self-absorbed mobster. No matter how good his body looks. I bet he knows exactly how to use it too.

Nope, I'm not thinking about how good he is in bed.

Damn it, Kayleigh. Get your shit together. I mentally curse myself as I make my way to the front door. But before I can cross the room, Enzo appears, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Even fully clothed, he looks edible.

It's what he's holding that I'm more interested in, though. He reaches out his left hand to me. "You might need your boots. The streets of New York are no place for bare feet," he says.

I grab my shoes, pull my socks out of my pocket, and sit on the floor. Right here in front of him. When I peer up, Enzo is looking down at me, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes so dark I swear they're the entrance to an eternal pit of hell.

I don't know what his problem is. Ignoring the alarm bells in my head screaming at me to get up and move away, I continue lacing up my boots. Once I'm finished, I stand and dust off the back of my skirt.

"You okay?" I ask Enzo, who is still looking at me with a pissed-off expression on his face.

"Fine," he grits out. "Here. These are yours." He holds out his right hand. Both of my knifes resting on his open palm.

I take them from him. "Thank you." I dig into my back pocket and pull out the scissors I swiped from his bathroom. "These are yours. Despite what you think, I'm not a thief. I was never going to keep them."

"What were you planning to do with a tiny pair of scissors?" he asks with a raised brow.

"I woke up in a strange place. I would have done whatever I needed to do to survive if I had to," I tell him.

"Good to know. But, if you're going to use those on me…" Enzo nods towards the knives now firmly gripped in my hand. "Make sure you hit a good spot, because you'll only get one chance."