Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“No one likes a liar, princess.” This time she does smile, but quickly points it over my shoulder. “Are you going to join us, Mr. Fikile?!” she calls out, and I note even her shout is elegant.
I sneak a glance through the curls of my hair and sure enough, Enzo hasn’t moved, but he jolts when the man behind him lets out a mocking laugh.
He whips around as if forgetting he wasn’t alone, and this time when he spins back, his mouth is pinched in irritation.
Swallowing, I look away, but when I sense his approach, I force myself to turn and face him fully, unsure of my next move with the visitor trailing just behind him.
He steps under the shade of the pergola, and he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. His large hand reaches out, grasping my hair, and my lips part, my head tipping back to keep his gaze.
My pulse jumps when his head lowers, his lips gliding over mine in a feather of a kiss. A tease.
It’s the first time his lips have so much as touched mine and I feel shorted. Cheated. I also feel…dazed.
It’s not even a taste, yet my mouth is watering, and I don’t realize I’ve closed my eyes until they reopen again, finding him waiting for that extra moment of connection. It’s a palpable one, a stark heat sparking between us, so much so I wouldn’t be shocked if literal sparks flashed before me.
“I didn’t die,” he whispers.
An unexpected chuckle leaves me, and his eyes fall to my lips as if to try and witness the sound as it escapes.
“You going to introduce me to the woman or not?” the man behind Enzo asks, his deep voice woven with amusement. “I’m dying over here.”
“I’m no longer particularly fond of the idea, no.” He frowns, his hand still buried in my hair.
My eyes go to flick past Enzo, but he shifts his shoulders, drawing my attention right back, and the man chuckles, his long fingers coming into view when he clamps them on Enzo’s shoulder in a way I am positive only someone closest to him would dare touch him.
The dark-eyed man steps closer to me, his smile wide and relaxed in a way Enzo’s isn’t, as if he doesn’t have a million things running through his mind at once while trying to focus on one, but lives in the now. That or he’s well-trained in the art of a carefree attitude. Maybe that’s their whole game, being polar opposites at first impressions.
“Mino?” I guess, looking to Enzo for confirmation that this is in fact his second-in-command.
Enzo nods, stepping back, but only to force Mino farther from me, and then he tugs me into his opposite side. “Boston, Mino. Mino, Boston,” he says in introduction.
“Hello.” I offer a polite smile, my cheeks warming knowing he too saw my impromptu freestyle.
Mino somehow grins even wider, his palms rubbing together as his eyes take in everything they can without dropping below my chin. “Hello, tiny dancer.”
“No nicknames.” Enzo glares, his attention shifting to where my mouth meets the mug when I go for a small sip. “And stop smiling at her.”
“Why? We’re gonna get real tight, me and her.”
“Fuck off, Mino,” Enzo mumbles, but there’s no power behind it.
Mino laughs, turning to Grandma with a bow.
Grandma narrows her eyes at the man but holds up a mug for him to take.
“You love me,” he tells her.
“I most certainly do not.” She turns away from him, coming back with a cup for Enzo.
Enzo’s palm finds my back and he leads me to one of the chairs, but before I can lower into the seat, he eases the mug from my hand, his free one closing over my hip and guiding me so I’m sitting on his left thigh.
I go still instantly, but he hauls me back farther, until I’m more or less cradled between the crook of his arm, and then he passes my drink back.
I grab it, reminding myself to take steady breaths and trying to focus on my cappuccino rather than the soothing warmth of his large body enveloping my own.
“Relax.” His lips find my ear. “We’re just sitting.”
Heat buds in my core at his heady whisper, which is just sad.
Why is he touching me and playing this up? He said only three people knew we were already married, Mino being one of them, so what is this? His way of placating me?
Does he think I’m like a kitten he can pet, and all is forgiven?
What would he do if I stood and walked away? Humiliate me some more by demanding I come back and kneel at his feet while his friend laughed on?
I roll my eyes at myself, nothing I’ve learned so far indicating that’s the path he’d take when disrespected, but what do I know?