Emilia's POV
When Enzo's eyes fix on me, burning with a fire that both terrifies and excites me, I hardly could breathe. Though none of us is ready to touch, a live wire neither of us is pulled to—to each other, here we are—drawn to each other, by some twisted, unbreakable force.
"You didn't have to follow me," I remark, voice low as I lean against the marble countertop, seeming calm even though my heart is pounding.
Enzo's eyes close. "You shouldn't have come here Emilia alone." His words are sharp, menacing, yet I feel a flutter of something gentler under. Anxiety? Enzo De Luca is not worried. He orders and he governs.
My arms cross to challenge him. "Perhaps I do not need a babysitter. Or is it difficult for you to swallow?
He advances, his shadow covering me and narrowing the space between us. "Your continuous need to put yourself at risk is difficult to accept." His hand stretches out to catch the counter next to me, stranding me between his massive arms.
