Louis
I wanted to talk to Enzo, but I quickly realized he was deliberately avoiding me all day. Every time he saw me, he vanished as if on cue. He kept this up all day, but eventually, I caught him.
"I have to tell you something," I said firmly.
"Well, I'm busy now. Maybe we can—"
"No, listen. Don't come near my kids again," I blurted out, my words harsh. I saw the disappointment and hurt flash across Enzo's face.
"What?" he asked, his expression shifting to surprise.
"I didn't mean to say that word in front of him. It was an accident. You saw it," he explained, catching me off guard. I had expected him to argue or simply walk away, not this reaction. I hadn't anticipated he'd be so upset.
"I... I don't know. We just... we don't want them picking up bad language," I stammered. Enzo stared at me, running his fingers through his hair as if trying to sort out some internal struggle. Then, without a word, he walked away, leaving me with a gnawing sense of unease.
Ever since the day Enzo tried to take his own life, I couldn't bear to hurt him or see him upset. The memory of finding him, lifeless on the floor, still haunted me. It had been almost a year, but the trauma clung to me like a shadow.
"Enzo..." I called after him, my voice softer now.
"Okay, okay. I'll stay away from your kids," he muttered, his tone heavy with emotion.
"Hey... it's just... Camille doesn't want them picking up bad words. She was really upset," I said, gently turning him to face me.
"Fine! I'll stay away from everyone. Happy now? You guys kicked Papa out of my life because you couldn't stand someone actually caring about me. And now you want me to stay away from your kids too. Okay, I'll do that. I'll stay away from all of you. I'll stay away from everyone I care about. I know that's what you all want," Enzo said angrily, his lips trembling.
"Enzo, that's not what I meant," I tried to explain, my voice softening.
"Well, I don't care. I got the message loud and clear," he snapped, turning to leave.
"Enzo—"
"Shut up, Louis. Just leave me alone," Enzo shot back, his anger palpable as he walked away from me.
Cardo
I found Enzo sitting alone in the garden, smoking a cigarette. He looked sad, his eyes swollen like he'd been crying.
"Hey, buddy, why are you crying?" I asked gently.
"I'm not crying," he snapped, his tone defensive.
"I can tell you were, though. It's fine if you don't want to call it crying. So, what made the tears fall?" I asked. He looked at me with those dark eyes, and an icy shiver ran down my spine.
"Damn, man! Don't look at me like that," I said, trying to shake off the chill.
"Like what?" he asked, his expression unreadable.
"Like you're about to suck the soul out of my body," I joked.
"I didn't even look at you like that," he muttered, not bothering to meet my gaze. From the side, I could see his profile—damn, he was ridiculously handsome. Lucky bastard.
"Let's hit the club tonight. What do you say?" I suggested. Maybe it was time to introduce him to some girls. A little dopamine boost could do him good.
"Okay," he said.
"So, how are the clubs around here?" I asked.
"I'm not allowed to go to clubs. Actually, I'm not allowed to go anywhere alone," he replied, frustration evident in his voice.
"What? Why the hell is that?" I asked, surprised. Sure, I was supposed to go out with my driver or a guard too, but I often went out alone.
"It's because Papa has a lot of enemies. Once, someone kidnapped me. They found me after about four damn days, and I was on the verge of losing my mind. Then, another time, someone tried to kidnap me again, and my Papa... guard took the bullets meant for me. And... yeah, that's it," he said, his voice shaky. He stopped talking, maybe afraid he'd start crying in front of me.
"That's rough, man. Anyway, let's hit the club tonight. Just you and me, no archangel Raphael," I joked, and he laughed.
"So, is your Papa still around?" he asked.
"Yeah, he said he wouldn't go unless I went with him," I replied.
"Really? Why's that?" he asked, curious.
"He doesn't like staying home alone," I said. Truth be told, I didn't either. Our house was massive, but it was just Papa and me. It felt so empty.
"Does he ever bring girlfriends around?" he asked with a smirk.
"No, he never does that," I said firmly.
"Are you mad at him?" he asked again, his curiosity lingering.
"Kind of. I just miss my Mama and my sister. I don't remember them much, but I remember being happy when they were around. Now, I'm just... alone. I feel empty. Sometimes, I even think about ending it," I admitted, letting my true feelings spill out.
"I thought you were happy. You always act like you're having the time of your life," Enzo said, eyeing me curiously.
"Yeah, but I'm not," I confessed, avoiding his gaze. It felt awkward being this open. Still, I sensed that Enzo and I shared something, though I couldn't pinpoint what. We were opposites in many ways. He was ridiculously handsome but rarely smiled. He always seemed distant, almost cold. Reading him was impossible.
"What the hell is happiness, anyway?" he muttered suddenly.
"Hell if I know, man. What the hell is that?" I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
"So, what time are we heading to the club?" Enzo asked, changing the subject.
"Let's go at eight. And no Raphael, okay? He's like a damn spy. I swear he's keeping tabs on us," I said, venting my frustration.
"Why would he do that?" Enzo asked, genuinely curious.
"Because it's the only thing he's good at," I said with a smirk.
"But I like him," he said, catching me off guard and sparking a pang of jealousy.
"What about me? You don't like me?" I asked, half-joking.
"I like you too," Enzo replied.
"Who do you like more?" I pressed.
"Not sure about that. You're kind of annoying sometimes," he said bluntly, like a slap in the face.
"Oh, thanks for hurting my feelings," I shot back, pretending to be wounded.
"What a snowflake," he teased.
I pushed him playfully, and he tumbled off his seat, landing on his feet. He grinned and did the same to me, and for a moment, we were just two friends messing around.
