Life filled his hazel eyes as I pulled back, his entire body going rigid the moment he realized where we were. "Fuck," he groaned, shoving his weight off me. He sat with his back to the front desk counter, hanging his head in his hands and shoving his gun back into his holster. "Did I hurt you?"
"No." I shook my head. "That was probably the least painful tackle ever. I don't even remember hitting the floor," I said with a light tease as I moved to a sitting position. He glanced around, probably wondering who had seen his episode. Rebel butted her head up against his hand, wiggling into his side to demand attention, and he absentmindedly stroked her short fur.
"Can we get out of here for the day? I just...I need to go," he admitted. Normally, I'd have never tolerated leaving the gym early two days in a row. But the humiliation on his face and the soft sound of his voice fell only slightly short of begging. There was nothing left to do but nod and go change and get my things. The gym would be fine for the day with Beth to run it and several other trainers on duty.
Enzo was more important.
I'd been to Indulgence before, but something about walking in with Enzo felt different. The club was still quiet for the day, only one of the bars downstairs open to serve finger foods and alcohol to the people who came in midday. They were few and far between, because while Indulgence had the highest quality of everything, who went to a nightclub for lunch?
Enzo didn't bother with any of the people who looked to him as we strolled in the front doors. Rebel hovered behind us, her feet padding across the hardwood floors quickly to keep up with his rigorous pace. People who wanted his attention seemed to get the hint as he stormed through the space, avoiding him to the best of their ability.
I kind of envied them for that, since I felt like wherever we went wouldn't end well for me. Something was coming. Enzo wouldn't hurt me, but the rigidity of his frame set my anxiety to a rapid pitch, my fingers tapping against my thigh in steady bursts of five. Rebel bumped my hand, but even she couldn't distract me.
Not from this.
"I can just hang out here. Learn to be a bartender or something," I said as we reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Walk your ass up on your own or I'll carry you," Enzo said shortly, proceeding up the steps. With a nervous swallow, I followed behind him. When we rounded the top of the stairs, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and shoved open the first door. A large office with screens all over was inside, the entire back wall occupied by a glass window that looked down on the main floor, I stepped in nervously. The photos on the desk showed Enzo with a group of six women of varying ages, all shared commonalities between them. Family, somehow. They were the only personal touch to hint that the office was his.
He made his way to a cupboard at the side, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and some ice from the mini-fridge next to it. Combining them in a tumbler, he downed the first drink with smooth swallows. I watched his throat work, wondered if he liked the burn of the liquor as it made the journey.
Grabbing a second tumbler, he filled it with ice and whiskey. "It's a little early, even for me," I laughed.
"You're going to want it for this conversation," he said, nodding his head down to the glass one more time. Accepting the glass with a swallow, I tossed it back quickly, wincing against the burn as it poured down my throat.
"What conversation?" I asked, setting the empty glass on his desk. He glanced at it, filling it one more time. Then he moved around to the other side, setting the bottle down as he made his way to his chair. He dropped his weight into it, looking exhausted for the first time since I'd met him. He waved two fingers to summon me over as Rebel curled up on the floor nearby.
Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms over my chest. I did not give the first shit if he was vulnerable. There was nothing on this planet that would make me come like a pet when summoned. "Please, Sadie," he said, studying me intently. With a sigh, I uncrossed my arms and walked around the desk to stand in front of him. Hands at my hips, he lifted me until my ass perched on the edge of his desk, and he moved his chair to position himself between my legs. His fingers ran over my jean clad thighs, the pressure of them grazing against me, even through the thick fabric, feeling like a soothing sensation in and of itself. I didn't know if it was for his sake or mine, but I suspected it calmed both our frayed edges.
The need to flee already stirred in my veins, threatening to make me try to bolt out the door. "I had a girlfriend at home when I went to Afghanistan," he said, staring at the contact between his hands and my thighs. Like he couldn't quite look at me while he detailed his secrets.
"I don't need to know about this, Enzo," I sighed, catching his chin and giving him a reassuring smile. "You don't owe me anything."
"We both have shit we're dealing with. Unusual symptoms that are going to influence things in the future. We'll never survive if we aren't honest about them," he argued, raising an eyebrow at me as if he dared me to contradict him. But I couldn't, and the fact that I didn't discuss
