4. Chapter Four

The key picking is about halfway done, as far as I can tell. There have been many men up on that stage already, each of them handsome as hell and seemingly satisfied with the woman they've been paired with. But not one of those men was Enzo.

He's still in the crowd, waiting his turn. And the kicker? Rafael is beside him. And not just in a, this is where I decided to stand way. But in a, we know each other very well type of way, which I find both interesting and intriguing. How well do they know each other?Are they friends? Business associates? Fuck buddies? Are they here together-together, or just together?

I find myself watching them more than the stage, half expecting to see them hold hands or kiss. Which would be so damn hot, if I do say so myself. Thanks, alcohol.

Pulling my gaze away, before I get security called on me for being a creep, I glance back at the stage just as a tall guy in a maroon suit walks up the stairs. He's a good-looking guy. Wouldn't be mad if he picked me.

No, you need to be picked after Enzo leaves.

Oh, yeah…I forgot about that. He can't know I'm here. I take another sip of my vodka. It's still my second glass and I've been nursing it. I don't want to get sick and not enjoy the night.

Fun. This is supposed to be fun.

"Next up on stage is Vincenzo Bramante," Damien, the announcer, calls.

I sigh in relief. Once he's out of here, I'll settle in more and enjoy the rest of the show.

I watch him like a hawk as he walks to the stage with long, confident strides. His charcoal suit hugs every inch of his body in the most perfect way, and I hate how good he looks. He's my father's friend! I can't check him out. But god, he's so fucking hot.

I shake my head and take another sip of my drink, fixing my hair around my face so if he scans the crowd, he's less likely to notice me.

A few more minutes and he'll be out of here with one of these girls, and I won't have to worry about him for the rest of the night.

The seconds tick by like hours as Enzo digs around in the bag, trying to find the perfect key. My breath hitches in my throat when his hand is free from the bag.

Get on with it so he can get the hell out of here!

I sneak a glance at Rafael and startle when I find him looking at me. He smirks and goes back to watching Enzo with something akin to lust on his face.

So, that's the kind of together they are.

Interesting. I didn't know Enzo was into men. Somehow, this makes him so much sexier. Which is so bad.

Enzo hands the key to Damien just as I bring my attention back to the stage.

"And your lucky girl for the night, Mr. Bramante, is the lovely Jordan Delise."

All the air whooshes from my lungs as Damien scans the crowd with a big smile, waiting for Jordan Delise to move forward. But I'm frozen in place. I can't move. I can't breathe. I'm having a heart attack.

My eyes are glued to Enzo, so I catch the exact second his face goes from blank to furious. It happens slowly, like it's taking a long time for the name to sink in. Like Jordan Delise and Temptation Key Party don't go together. Like maybe he didn't hear the name correctly, because how could his best friend's daughter be here? He leans close to the announcer, whispering something in his ear.

Damien says something in response that we can't hear and points to the name on the paper. Enzo nods once, scanning the crowd carefully. That dark mask of his is in place, determination in his eyes.

I'm going to be sick.

I consider running out of the room. If I run, I won't have to worry about anything. I could deny it. Say someone played a joke on me. That I wasn't here. But I can't move. I still can't move.

My heart is pounding, absolutely thundering in my chest, as Enzo's eyes slowly make their way across the crowd of people, spending less than a split second on each face.

Looking for me.

When he finds me, when those dark eyes settle on me, I gasp. It's only him looking at me, but it feels like the entire room is staring. Like every person is gawking at me in as much disbelief as I am. Maybe even offended, because how dare I be paired up with Vincenzo Bramante?

Enzo and I hold each other's gazes. My chest is so tight it hurts. My grip around the glass is so tense I don't know how it hasn't shattered yet. Enzo's jaw tenses, the look in his eyes absolutely primal.

I don't know what to think about that.

When did that change? When did he go from furious to hungry?

Starved.

Eager.

I'm caught under his dark gaze like a bug in a web.

What the hell am I going to do?

Surely he'll ask to pick again. He won't take me to his room. There's no way he spent all this money for nothing. I wrack my brain to recall what the contract said about this, if anything, but my head is blank. I know I signed a contract, but I'll be damned if I can remember a single word in it. Regardless of knowing what's on it, I'm pretty sure picking twice is absolutely out of the question.

But Enzo is my father's best friend. He's rich. He has power. He'll pull some strings and get this all taken care of. I can't go through with this now. My entire night is ruined. And here I was concerned him finding me would be the issue. I never, not for a second, thought we'd be paired together. What are the odds?

But this can't happen. I have to leave. There must be a backup woman somewhere in case someone doesn't show, right? Extra women lying around in wait as second string? Like in football.

Simple fix. If only I could make myself move. Or say something.

It's really hot in here. I'm sweating.

If I can just get out of this room, all I have to worry about is making sure Enzo doesn't tell my father.

"Jordan Delise?" Damien calls out again, his voice cheery like he's trying to cover up the fact I'm not moving.

Enzo is still holding my gaze. He lifts his chin the slightest bit. Was that a nod? It may have been a nod. Yeah, definitely a nod.

Okay. Here goes.

I snap out of it and move. I put the vodka glass on a tall table I pass, but instead of running for the exit, like I thought I would, my feet move me toward the stage.

Toward Enzo.

No big deal. I'll go up there. We'll walk off together. I'll apologize. Find the manager. Explain the situation. Find him a new girl. Beg him not to rat me out. That'll be the end of it. I'll apologize to him profusely. And beg. I'll beg more than I ever have in my entire life. Beg so damn much. Tell him we can work something out because this is all a huge misunderstanding. Surely Enzo will have some sympathy for me? I'm just a young, stupid, naive girl who got mixed up in something she knows nothing about.

Enzo watches me like a hawk. I hold my chin high as I hold his gaze. The least I can do is have some self-respect in front of all these people. Pretend to be confident, even though I feel smaller than a mouse trapped in a room full of playful cats. I'm helped up the stairs by one of the staff and stand beside Enzo. The first thing I notice is how good he smells. It's intoxicating. I don't think I'll ever forget the spicy, masculine scent. It's making me dizzy.

He doesn't react as I stop beside him. Doesn't acknowledge me. I stare out into the crowd but see nothing. I'm trapped inside of Enzo's little bubble now, and I am going to be in so much trouble. I'm dead. Enzo will not listen to anything I say. He's going to scream at me, the same way my father would if he were the one here. And when he's done yelling at me as if he has a right to do so, he'll call my father and rat me out.

What a waste of time this was.

My father is going to lose his mind.

Lose his damn mind!

He's warned me for years to stay away from clubs. Has told me repeatedly all the bad stuff he sees. I don't blame that entirely on why I never went out and partied, but it was part of the reason. He scared the hell out of me.

But this is the one thing my father asked of me. The one thing he was firm about. The one thing he never bent on. He was fine with me going out. I shopped whenever I wanted. Went out to eat. The movies. Vacations. Anything. But the club scene was off limits.

Knowing I once again did something to disappoint him has my stomach souring, and the vodka threatening to make an unappealing return.

I didn't listen to my father. To the one thing he asked of me.

And now here I am, in this embarrassing mess. Because let's face it, this is embarrassing as hell. It was easy when no one knew me. But Vincenzo? He's known me since I was in diapers!

"You will be in room thirteen. Please make your way there," Damien says, gesturing off the stage.

My feet can't move fast enough this time, and Enzo is right there at my side. We head toward the hallway that'll lead us to the elevator for the rooms. From the corner of my eye, I spot someone walking toward us. Rafael.

I'd forgotten all about him.

So that's great. In one night, I've disappointed three men without even opening my mouth.

Rafael is smiling, obviously not having a clue about anything going on. It's clear he can't feel the tension between Enzo and me, which makes me wonder how much he's had to drink. Even the people we pass are giving us curious looks like they're catching on that something is up.

"Here, Miss." The staff inside the hallway hands me a bag and a slip of paper folded in three.

"Oh? Thank you," I say softly, taking the items with trembling fingers.

The bag has a bit of weight to it, but I've no idea what is inside. A parting gift? A thank you for fucking this man beforehand? A rape whistle? Actually, now that I think about it, Damien mentioned this in his speech. Condoms and sex toys? Oh, my god.

My cheeks blaze.

Enzo doesn't say a word all the way up to the room, and when we reach room 13, he uses the key to unlock the door and pushes it open. He stares into the room, holding it wide open and waiting for me to step inside. I do, feeling like a small child who's about to be punished. I can't remember the last time I got in trouble for anything.

The room is gorgeous, and if this weren't such an awful situation, I'd be excited. It's spacious, everything in here is expensive as hell. The bed is bigger than the king I have at home. One wall is full of floor-to-ceiling windows with cream-colored drapes pulled halfway open. A tall cabinet is against the wall across from the bed, along with a desk beneath a large flat screen tv hanging on the wall, and a small fridge. The furniture is all black, with the fabrics matching the cream curtains. The pictures on the walls are all abstract, sharing the same black and cream color scheme, but with gold accents that match the couple of throw pillows on the bed.

The bathroom door is on the same wall as the door to enter, and I bet it's just as nice, but I dare not go in there to check it out.

The door clicks shut, and I close my eyes, taking a steadying breath.

Here goes, Jordan. Prepare to have your ass handed to you.

My fingers tighten around the bag. I wait for Enzo to scream, to ask me what the hell I'm doing here. The seconds tick by, each one having my heart racing faster. Harder. I'm going to pass out. I hate feeling like this. Hate it.

His harsh words never come. It's only silence.

I open my eyes, wondering if he left. Did he let me in here just to leave? That would make sense, wouldn't it? Why would he even want to look at me? But deep down, I know that's not right. I feel him behind me. Enzo's presence isn't one you can ignore.

So I turn around, still clutching the items in my hands, and meet his burning gaze.

God, he's even more beautiful up close.

No, Jordan. No! That is not what you should be thinking.

He drags his forefinger along the underneath of his bottom lip as he looks me up and down, with an almost predatory look in his eyes.

He can't be serious. He isn't going to…

No. Definitely not. He wouldn't.

He's my father's best friend! He's twice my age.

But the way he's looking at me? It says otherwise.

Rafael is standing behind him at the door, the smallest smirk on his lips. But he isn't looking at me. He's staring ahead toward the windows.

What does he know that I don't? And who the hell is he? Why are they here together?

"I'm going round and round in my head, Jordan," Enzo says quietly, making a circle with his hand near his temple. His voice is raspier than I remember. Deep and sexy. He steps forward and I suck in a breath. He stops at my side for a split second, his gaze scrutinizing, then he keeps going. I'm panting and my mouth is so dry I may choke. I turn to follow where he's going, this strange fear of him being behind me coming out of nowhere. He sits on the edge of the bed, making us eye level, and rests his forearms on his thighs. "Over what to do with you."

"Please don't tell my father I'm here," I plead desperately. "Please, Enzo. I just…"

His eyes narrow as they hold mine. I have no idea what is going through his head. I can't tell what he's thinking. It's terrifying!

Enzo stands and stops in front of me. That scent invades my senses again, making me feel drunk. He grabs a bit of my hair, tugging on the end. He doesn't let go of it but wraps the little bit around his finger snugly.

"I don't think I will," he says. I sigh in relief as the weight falls from my shoulders. Thank god he isn't going to tell my father. Enzo yanks on my hair, sharp and hard, causing my neck to jerk to the side and me to hiss. "Not yet, anyway."

"What?" I breathe out. My scalp is still stinging as he lets go of my hair. "But you—he can't know! He'll be so angry. Enzo, please. Please, you can't tell him." I beg and plead like a child. Like a desperate, stupid little girl.

Enzo's gaze moves over my head, and his look softens the slightest bit. I can only assume he and Rafael are having some sort of secret bro conversation. I don't bother looking around to see what he's doing in response. It doesn't matter. I don't know him. Pleading with him won't do me any good.

Enzo brings his gaze back to me, his eyes shining with mischief.

"What'll you do for me?" he asks.

"Anything," I blurt, clasping my hands together in a pleading position, the bag and paper crunching beneath my tight hold. "I swear, I'll do anything you want. Just don't tell him. Please."

He raises a brow, and for the first time all night, he smirks.

Enzo smirks at me, and I know that isn't a good sign.