There are moments in life when we come to a crossroads and must decide which path is the best option for the next part of our journey. Overhearing Enzo’s conversation with Augusta Abramovitz is one of those times. 

I should run from this place and never look back.

However, I’m still picking my jaw off the floor when the glamorous blonde enters the corridor where I’m clutching my chest. The edges of her eyes crease with a smirk, and she pauses.

“A little advice: you have all the power in the world nestled right there.” She points at my legs. “Use it. Make that man eat out of your hand. Trust me.”

“I don’t even know you. Why the hell would I trust you?” 

She sweeps aside a luminescent lock of hair and steps closer. “Because I’m a woman with the most influential men in this city asking how high they should jump when I snap my fingers. I didn’t gain this power by being a meek little mouse shivering in a corner.”

“I’m not a meek little mouse,” I say as she continues past me. So, I grab her arm. “Stay away from my brother.”

She glances at my fingers curled around her flesh and sucks in a breath of disgust through her teeth. “Remove your hand.”

But I don’t.

Instead, I grip tighter and lean in with a growl, “Stay away from him.”

“Learn your place!” she yanks free with a snarl. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again, you stupid girl.”

It isn’t until I pull the pepper spray out of my purse, aim it at her face, and press the button that I realize what I'm doing. A stream shoots out like a snake spitting venom, and Augusta immediately withdraws with a shriek, her hands going to her eyes. She screams every nasty insult in the dictionary at me, but I’m coughing too much to care as the acidic burn of the spray fills the air.

Someone barrels past me, almost knocking me over, but I steady myself using the wall. A large man who could crush my skull like a watermelon runs to Augusta's aid. So, I take this opportunity to flee but bump into Enzo.

“Mara?” His hands go to my sides, but he begins coughing, too.

"We should go!"

“What the hell is going on?”

“Grab her, Bernard!” Augusta shouts and continues gagging as snot flows from her nose.

Her large bodyguard isn't immune to the burn of the pepper spray, either. Yet, he stomps forward like King Kong, ready to toss me over his shoulder while rubbing his eyes and coughing.

"Get behind me," Enzo shouts. A gun slingshots from his sleeve and into his palm as he aims. “You’re not laying a finger on her!”

The bodyguard freezes, allowing us to back up slowly until we leave the hallway. Guests at the charity event become a blur when Enzo hooks his arm around my waist and hauls me toward the nearest exit. I trip over my heels as we crash into the stairwell, but Enzo keeps moving while dragging me with him down two flights of stairs.

“What the hell happened back there?” he says.

“I overheard your conversation with that woman. So, I pepper sprayed her.”

“What!?” Enzo comes to a dead stop and whirls around. “Mara, no.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. Me…” He facepalms himself. “Augusta Abramovitz is not a woman you want to mess with. She is very powerful. I don’t know what she has on your brother or why he’s involved with her, but you need to steer clear. Understand?”

“But he’s my brother, and she has him out there doing something dangerous.”

“Mara, no.” Enzo shakes his head and holds my face. “Don’t get involved.”

 I shrug away from him and step back. “What about what she said about your uncle?”

“She’s obviously lying.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because my uncle isn’t a psycho. He would never hurt you.”

“Why do you have a gun hidden in your sleeve?”

“I have a license to carry a concealed weapon. I never use it, but after you got attacked—”

“This is too much,” I cut him off and proceed down the stairs. “I want to go home.” 

“Let me speak with my uncle and find out what’s going on.”

“No. Right now, I need you to stay away.”

“Mara…” Enzo’s furrowed brows practically melt into a frown. He reaches for me, but I step back.

“I don’t trust you or your uncle or anyone right now!”

“I would never hurt you.” 

“I don’t know what to believe. Nor do I feel safe.” I wipe my eyes. “And I want to go home.”

"Alright. I'll get you home."

Fog escapes with our breaths when we exit the building, and my tears are glacial against my cheeks as the wind blows. Mist clings to the night sky, and the only item I have to shield me from the cold is the shawl I left the house with. Enzo removes his tuxedo jacket and covers my shivering shoulders. However, I’m not sure if my teeth are chattering because of the temperature or from the adrenaline rush of the last few minutes.

As soon as we slide into the car, Enzo aims the vents at me and cranks the heat. Even when we’re at odds, he looks out for me, but I can’t ignore what Augusta said. 

It’s quiet as Charlie steers through the busy streets, where pedestrians run between cars to get to a bar or restaurant with glowing windows. Everyone has somewhere to be and is eager to get there. Yet, I’m heading home to cry.

Or maybe not?

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To my apartment,” Enzo says. “So you can take your car home.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Mara, you’re upset, but please take the car. It’s yours.”

Shifting away, I stare out the window, but it’s difficult to ignore Enzo when his woodsy cologne fills my senses like pine burning in a forest fire, ready to engulf us in the flames of our sexual heat. I want to crawl into his lap, curl into a ball, and let him hold me. However, neither of us says a word as we pull up to his apartment and go to the garage where my gift sits in the parking spot next to Enzo’s.

Then it hits me.

It's my very own spot…

“I had everything checked and updated before I drove it off the lot,” he says, pointing at the gadgets while I settle into the driver’s seat. “It has a Bluetooth touchscreen with a backup camera, so before you leave, familiarize yourself with the buttons. I don’t want you to get into a wreck because you’re distracted by an unfamiliar dashboard.”

“Ok.” I turn the engine.

“And Mara…” He tilts my chin, his turquoise eyes looking deeply into my sepia ones, but then he closes his mouth like he’s changed his mind about whatever he was about to say.

“Bye, Enzo.”

“Drive safe.” He plants a quick kiss on my forehead and shuts the door.

However, he doesn’t leave. Instead, he remains there, watching. So, I fuss with the buttons on the dash, pretending to familiarize myself, then shift the gear into reverse. Despite the car having a backup camera, I look over my shoulder to avoid Enzo’s gaze. Why does this feel like a breakup? My heart aches, and each breath is like broken glass grinding into sand as my lungs expand and contract.

Deep down, I know I can trust him, but my gut says I need to protect myself.

I drive a few blocks after leaving the apartment, then pull over and sob into my hands. What the hell happened tonight? Did his uncle really hire someone to attack me, and what has my brother gotten himself into? A chime interrupts my wallowing, and it’s probably Anika checking up on me, so I feel around for my purse to dig through it. 

But it’s not her.

On my phone's glowing screen is a text message, which causes me to stop crying and sit up straight.

Kyle: Hey, beautiful. I’m back in town. Feel like coming over? I’ve missed you!

Instead of telling him I'm tired, I shift the car into drive and head for his apartment. 

◇◇◇

It’s around midnight, and moonlight beams past the curtains of Kyle’s bedroom. I threw myself at him the moment he opened the door and have zero regrets. His beaming smile, paired with an incredibly sexy set of grey sweats, reminded me how much I like him. Kyle doesn’t need the flashiness that his family's money can buy. Instead, he lives in a simple apartment and wears clothes from the clearance rack. 

Now, I lay on my stomach while Kyle rests on his side, running his fingers up my back. We bask in our nakedness while I ramble, and he listens.

This is what I need—someone my age who isn’t complicated.

“I wasn’t planned," I say. "Lydia and Lucas were. It’s why my parents had them back-to-back, but I came later because I was an oops. An afterthought.”

“Mmm, but my favorite thought.” Kyle bites my shoulder with a grin. “I’m ready for another round. How about you?”

I laugh, “You came back from Miami awfully hungry.”

“Miami? I was in Hilton Head.”

“Oh… I thought you said Miami.”

“No, we’re thinking of opening a location in Hilton Head.”

“And what does that entail?” I turn onto my side, and Kyle’s gaze goes directly to my breasts.

“Enough talking. More sex.” He pushes me onto my back and pins my hands. “I’d rather discuss your sexy body with my mouth.”

I squeal and squirm when he runs his tongue down my neck. “You love changing the subject.” 

“Why waste time on other things when I can spend every minute worshipping your body.”

I groan, “I hate to be a Debby Downer, but I should get going. It’s late.”

“Absolutely not.” He climbs on top of me, his legs pinning mine. “I’ve been waiting all week to have my way with you.”

“I know, but it’s late. I should go home. Besides, we’ve already had a lot of fun the last few hours.”

“Spend the night.”

“I want to, but—”

“Let’s try something!” He rolls off the bed and goes to his dresser. The moonlight accents his lovely behind, which I admire as I prop myself onto my elbows. He glances back. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He sifts through the drawer. “I want to play a little game.”

“What kind?” I narrow my eyes.

“A fun one, but I need you to get on your knees.” He returns with three silk suit ties.

“What are those for?” 

“Our game. Now, on your knees.”

“Alright,” I sigh.

The sheets crinkle as I kneel in the middle of the bed, and the mattress dips when Kyle settles back on.

“What are you doing?” I giggle as he blindfolds me.

“Shhh…” He fastens the material and gives the knot a good tug, then pulls my hands behind me.

“Kyle—”

“Shhh,” he hushes again. “Trust me. This will be fun.”

“Alright.” I swallow as he ties my hands together. A cold draft blows through the vents and peppers my skin with goosebumps, sending a shiver up my spine.

“Now, lay down,” Kyle says.

“What are we doing?”

“Part of the fun is you not knowing what comes next.”

“Ok...” I ease onto my tummy. “Can I at least have a blanket?”

“Nope.”

He ghosts his cold fingers down the back of my thighs and to my calves, leaving a trail of more goosebumps. The sensation causes me to lift my hips off the bed, and Kyle gives my bottom a hard smacks, ordering me to lie still. I suck in a breath at the sting, and recoil my legs when he grabs my ankles.

“Mara, relax.” He straightens me out with a swift tug.

But I can’t relax.

What kind of game involves me being blindfolded and bound?

“Kyle, what are you doing?” 

“Shhh,” he says, tying my ankles together. “This is meant to be fun.”

However, it isn’t. I don’t mind exploring in the bedroom, but I’ve never enjoyed having my autonomy taken away. Kyle flips me over, and I can feel him hovering above me as the hairs on his chest graze my breasts. He blows cool air across my neck, and my heart races as he plants kisses. 

“Kyle, I’m… I’m not a fan of this.”

“Relax. Enjoy yourself.”

“The binds are too tight,” I say, but he ignores me and continues kissing his way down my chest. “Kyle, I’m serious. My hands are going numb.” 

“Fine.” He yanks the blindfold off, and I wince as a few strands of hair rip from my scalp in the process. But Kyle doesn’t seem to notice as he pushes me onto my side and unravels the bind from my hands. “It’s getting late anyway, and I have an early start in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. It was hurting my wrists.”

“It’s fine.” He tosses the tie onto the bed and snatches his sweats from the floor. I free my ankles and get to my feet.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was stupid.” He slides on his sweats.

“It wasn’t.” I weave my arms around his torso and rest my head against his spine. “I’m just a bit squeamish with that kind of stuff. It makes me uncomfortable.” 

“I get it.” He goes to his dresser, causing my arms to fall away from him. So, I gather my things from the floor.

“Kyle, are you mad at me?”

“No. It’s just late.” He pulls on a shirt.

“Right.” I drop my gaze and step into my dress.

He’s lying to me. 

However, I don’t say anything as he walks me to the door. We pause awkwardly in front of it, and I peer at him sheepishly, expecting to find an irritated expression. Instead, Kyle is studying the stitches on my cheek like they're hieroglyphics he wants to understand.

"It doesn’t hurt anymore," I say. Although, I'm not sure why because he didn’t ask.

"You're a tough little thing." He brushes his fingertips across my cheek.

“Not really."

"I bet you fought like hell."

"I did."

"Good." He runs his index finger down to my chin and captures my mouth with his. It catches me off guard, but I try to enjoy the kiss.

Then I remember what my father said about each murder victim having marks on their wrists and ankles as if they had been tied…

I tear away from Kyle's lips, startling him.

"I have to go!" I say and bulldoze out of the apartment.

*
*
*

Ello! And thanks for reading.

I am a pantser when it comes to writing, which means I went into this story without a plan, and I'm letting the ideas come to me while I write (Flying by the seat of my pants). That said, I've had some new ideas pop up that I think could enhance the story.

For example, having some chapters in Enzo's POV. I feel like I need to explore his world through his eyes, too. I also don’t want people to forget that this story is part murder mystery, so I had an idea to have some chapters dedicated to the killer's POV but not reveal who the killer is. Instead, keep the voice anonymous.

Anyway, those are my thoughts, which would mean dropping out of the ONC contest to revamp the story.

Do you think I should do it?