Enzo's Obsession.

Chapter 010

Enzo's POV.

I watched Sofia leave the room, feeling the familiar ache of desire throb between my legs. Damn Isabella and her terrible timing. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide my obvious arousal as Isabella wrapped herself around me like a snake.

"Baby, I missed you so much," she purred, running her hands over my chest. "Let's go somewhere private. I have a new lingerie set I bought in Greece just for you."

"Not now," I said firmly, stepping away from her touch.

Isabella pouted, her lips forming that practiced expression I'd grown to detest. "But I've been away for weeks. Don't you want to celebrate my return?"

"I made reservations for dinner at Tuscany Gardens. We should get going."

Her face fell. "But I just got back. Don't you want to take me to bed first? I've been thinking about you every night."

"The restaurant won't hold our table forever," I cut her off, adjusting my suit jacket to hide my lingering arousal—an arousal that had nothing to do with Isabella and everything to do with Sofia. "Let's go. Now."

"Fine," she huffed, grabbing her purse. "But you owe me attention later."

As we walked out, I glanced back at the spot where Sofia had stood. My body was still on fire from our interrupted moment. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.

The ride to the restaurant was painful with Isabella chattering endlessly about her trip.

"The photoshoot was absolutely fabulous," she gushed, checking her reflection in her compact mirror. "The photographer said I was the most natural model he'd ever worked with."

"Did he now?" I replied, staring out the window.

"Yes, and the resort was divine. You should have joined me, Enzo. The beaches were pristine, the water so clear you could see straight to the bottom."

"Sounds nice."

"Is that all you have to say? 'Sounds nice'? I'm telling you about my work."

I turned to face her. "Your work? Is that what we're calling it now?"

She narrowed her eyes but quickly replaced her scowl with a smile. "Why are you in such a bad mood? Is it because of that maid? Did I interrupt something important?"

"She's new. I was explaining her duties."

"In your bedroom? How convenient."

I ignored her insinuation. "We're here."

Right on time.

At the restaurant, the maître d' greeted us warmly. "Mr. Ricci, Ms. Valentini, your usual table is ready. Right this way."

Isabella scrutinized the restaurant as we walked. "This place again? I thought you'd take me somewhere more...exclusive."

"This is the best restaurant in town," I replied flatly. "Unless you'd prefer to eat somewhere else?"

"No, it's fine. I suppose." She sat down with a dramatic sigh. "Though I did discover several amazing restaurants in Santorini that make this place look like a cafeteria."

When the waiter approached, Isabella barely acknowledged him.

"Good evening. May I offer you some water to start?" he asked politely.

"What's your best wine?" she asked without looking up from her menu.

"We have an excellent Brunello di Montalcino, madam. Aged fifteen years, with notes of—"

"I didn't ask for a history lesson," she cut him off. "Fine, whatever. Just bring it."

"Right away," the waiter replied, maintaining his professional tone.

"And don't bring those tiny glasses. I want proper wine glasses," she called after him. "God, the service here has gone downhill."

I rubbed my temples. "Isabella, could you be a little more respectful? He's just doing his job."

"What? I'm just making sure they know who they're serving. Don't tell me you've gone soft, Enzo. That's not the man I agreed to marry."

"There's a difference between being strong and being needlessly cruel, this behavior is completely unnecessary" I replied.

The waiter returned with our wine, carefully pouring it into large crystal glasses.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked.

Before I could speak, Isabella jumped in. "I'll have the sea bass, but make sure it's fresh. And no garlic—it gives me terrible breath. And substitute the risotto with steamed vegetables. No butter, no oil."

"Of course, madam. And for you, sir?"

"The ribeye. Medium rare."

"Very good. I'll put those orders in right away."

As he walked away, Isabella leaned forward. "Did you see how he looked at me? These people have no idea who they're serving."

"And who exactly are they serving, Isabella?"

"The future Mrs. Ricci, of course," she said with a smug smile. "Speaking of which, we need to set a date soon. Daddy's been asking."

I took a long sip of my wine instead of responding.

The food arrived promptly, beautifully plated and aromatic, but Isabella wasn't impressed.

She took one bite and made a face. "This is so bland," she complained, pushing her plate away. "Don't they know how to use salt?"

"It's perfectly seasoned," I said, enjoying my own meal despite her dramatics.

"You've clearly forgotten what good food tastes like," she snapped. "The seafood in Greece was divine. Fresh from the Mediterranean every morning."

"Speaking of Greece," I set down my fork, my patience wearing thin. "You never called while you were away."

Her eyes widened slightly before she composed herself. "I was busy with the photoshoot. You know how demanding those can be."

"Too busy to make a single phone call in three weeks?"

"The time difference makes it complicated," she said dismissively. "Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?"

"Busy at Sunset Lounge? Or was it Club Enigma? Maybe Poseidon's Palace?" I listed the clubs where she'd been spotted.

Isabella's face paled. "How did you—"

"I have eyes everywhere, Isabella. Did you think I wouldn't know?"

"Those were work events," she insisted. "Networking is part of modeling."

"Networking until 4 AM? Dancing on tables? That's professional behavior?"

"You're having me followed? That's insane, Enzo! Don't you trust me?"

"Should I? Who's Kelvin?"

She was surprised by the question and fumbled with her wine glass. "Kelvin? He's just a photographer from the shoot. Nothing to worry about."

"Is that why he was leaving your hotel room at 4 AM? Was he taking night shots?"

"You're being ridiculous," she hissed. "He was dropping off my portfolio."

"In the middle of the night? Do you think I'm an i***t?"

Isabella's demeanor changed instantly. She reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. "Baby, let's not fight. I'm so excited about our wedding! I was thinking of spring colors—pastels and cream. And maybe the ceremony at Lake Como? Daddy has connections there."

I pulled my hand away. "I'm not ready for a wedding right now."

"What?" Her voice rose, drawing glances from nearby tables.

"The business needs my full attention. We're expanding into new territories, dealing with the Cardini situation. It's not the right time."

"Not ready?" she hissed, leaning forward. "We've been engaged for almost a year! Daddy is expecting an announcement any day now."

"Your father will understand. Business comes first—he knows that better than anyone."

"Is it because of that b***h I saw at your house?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That 'maid,'," she sneered, making air quotes. "Don't play dumb with me, Enzo. I saw how you looked at her. What's really going on there?"

"She works for me. That's all."

"In your bedroom? What kind of work was she doing exactly? Because it looked like she was about to do a very specific kind of job."

"Watch your mouth, Isabella."

"Or what? You'll cancel the wedding? Go ahead. See how Daddy reacts when his precious investment deal falls through."

I leaned forward, my voice dangerously low. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a reality check," she replied coldly. "Our families have too much at stake."

Before I could respond, my phone rang. It was Marcus.

"Boss, we've got a situation," his urgent voice came through.

"What is it?"

"The north warehouse is under attack. Cardini's men are there with heavy artillery. Three of our guys are down already."

I stood immediately. "I'll be right there."

"You're leaving?" Isabella shrieked as I ended the call. "In the middle of dinner?"

"Business emergency," I said, already signaling for the check. "The warehouse is under attack."

"I don't care if your entire empire is burning to the ground," she seethed. "You don't walk out on me."

"Stay and finish if you want," I replied, throwing my black card on the table.

Her face contorted with rage. "You can't just leave me here!"

"Watch me," I replied, buttoning my jacket. "And Isabella? Don't come to my house unannounced again."

"This isn't over, Enzo!"

"You're right about that," I said over my shoulder as I walked away. "Tell Kelvin I said hello."

I walked out, leaving her fuming alone at the table. My mind was already shifting to the warehouse situation, calculating moves and countermoves against the Cardini family