Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
"You're allowed to enjoy it, you know." Enzo settled onto the sand, patting the spot beside him. In the darkness, his usual sharp edges looked softer somehow. "Nobody's keeping score out here."
I sank down next to him, close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching. The night air had a bite to it, but I didn't care. I tilted my head back, drinking in the scattered stars visible through the city's glow. Even with the light pollution, they were so much clearer than through the tinted glass of my penthouse windows.
"When I was little," I found myself saying, "my dad used to set up this telescope in his office. The really old kind, brass and wood. He'd let me stay up late on clear nights, teaching me every constellation. The hunter, the bear, the queen in her chair..." I smiled at the memory. "Vittorio had it 'accidentally' broken during the move to his place. Said it was taking up too much space."
"Your father sounds like a good man."
"He was." I drew my knees to my chest. "Did you really learn constellations on your dad's bar roof?"
Enzo was quiet for a moment, and I worried I'd crossed some line. But then he leaned back on his hands, eyes on the sky. "Yeah. Mostly to keep me out of trouble while he worked. Figured if I was up there mapping stars, I wasn't down in the bar trying to sneak drinks or chat up customers."
"Did it work?"
His laugh was low and rich. "Hell, no. Just got better at climbing down without him noticing." He glanced at me, something shifting in his expression. "But you know what's funny? All these years running the club, dealing with Providence's finest trash, and I still find myself looking up some nights. Old habits."
"Is that all they are? Habits?"
He was quiet again, longer this time. When he spoke, his voice had lost its usual edge. "Maybe not. There's something about stars, you know? How they're constant but always changing. How you can use them to find your way home, even when everything else goes dark."
"Freedom," I said softly. "That's what they always meant to me. Up there, nothing can touch them. No walls, no rules, no expectations."
"No cages," he added, and something in his tone made me look at him. "Even a gilded one is still a cage."
"You sound like you know something about that."
He shifted, eyes still on the sky. "Different kind of prison, maybe. Running the club, being who everyone expects me to be. The ruthless owner, the playboy, the man who's got it all figured out." His laugh held no humor. "Sometimes I wonder if I built my own cage, brick by brick."
The vulnerability in his voice made my heart ache. I'd seen glimpses of this Enzo before, in how he actually looked at me when I spoke, not through me like Vittorio's men always did. But this felt different. Realer.
"Sometimes I think they're the only real thing," I found myself saying. "Everything else can feel like a performance, a game we're all playing. But stars... they just are."
"Like someone else I know." His voice was soft, but it sent warmth spreading through my chest.
"I'm not..." I started, but he cut me off with a gentle laugh.
"Princess, I've watched you these weeks. The way you handle everything that's happened, how you keep your head even when everything's chaos. Hell, even tonight—all that time locked away and you're not even bitter, just grateful." He turned to face me, and suddenly the air felt heavier. "You're something else entirely."
"Says the club owner who quotes constellations."
"Ah, that." His smile turned self-deprecating. "Not exactly the image I usually project, huh?"
"You mean the whole 'love 'em and leave 'em' reputation? The stories I've heard about Sotto Voce's infamous owner?"
"Those would be the ones." He ran a hand through his hair, a surprisingly nervous gesture. "Can't say they're wrong. Was easier that way, you know? Keep it simple, physical. No messy feelings, no complications. Just mutual pleasure and clean goodbyes."
"And now?"
The question hung between us, heavy with possibility. He studied me for a long moment, and I found myself holding my breath.
"Now..." He reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers lingered at my jaw, barely there but sending electricity through my skin. "Now I'm breaking every rule I ever made. And the scariest part? I don't want to stop."
I should have pulled away. Should have remembered that technically I was still a hostage, that this wasn't some romantic movie on a moonlit beach. But then his thumb brushed my bottom lip, feather-light, and coherent thought scattered like stars.
"Your rules sound lonely," I whispered against his fingers.
"They were." His voice had gone rough. "Pearl..."
A wave crashed closer than the others, sending sea spray into the air. He pulled me instinctively closer as if to shield me from the mist. His body curled around mine, one hand steady at my waist while the other remained gentle at my jaw.