ISABELLA’S P.O.V.
Enzo didn’t return until late at night. I tried sneaking to see him and the bomber but Mac was adamant on not letting me pass. I knew that Enzo had to have said something to him to elicit this kind of reaction because he had never really cared about me making rash decisions before.
“Is it fear or respect?” I asked aloud and Mac glanced at me over the edge of his book.
We were sitting in the library because I couldn’t stand to be alone in the room. It was one of my other favorite places in the house and it wasn’t just because Enzo had f****d me between the shelves. This was one of the few places where he came to just be Enzo and not the feared Lorenzo DeLucia.
“With Lorenzo,” I explained. “I don’t know if you fear or respect him. I think it is a bit of both.”
“Anyone
