Chapter 1
ENZO
I pulled into the driveway after a long fucking day at the warehouse. All I wanted was a shower, something to eat, and my girl.
I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, only to stop dead in my tracks.
What the fuck?
There were flowers on the table, candles arranged across the shelves, and a blanket draped over my couch. And pillows. So many pillows. Pink, beige, and some weird shade of green I didn’t even know existed.
I stood there for a moment, staring at my living room as though I’d accidentally walked into someone else’s house.
What the actual fuck happened to my house?
“Darling?” I called, still trying to process what I was looking at.
“I’m in the kitchen!”
I stepped farther into the living room, my eyes moving from one unfamiliar object to another. There were pictures hanging on walls that had been perfectly fine without them, and little decorations occupying shelves that had remained empty for years.
Jesus Christ.
Mila appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing one of my T-shirts that barely reached her thighs. Her bare legs caught my attention before my gaze traveled back to her face. She had her hair loosely tied up, with a few strands falling around her cheeks, and the second she spotted me, her entire expression brightened.
“You’re home! I missed you.”
She practically ran toward me, and I barely had time to open my arms before she jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. I caught her easily, slipping my hands beneath her thighs to support her as she settled against me.
“Easy, trouble,” I chuckled, looking up at her.
She grinned before leaning down and pressing her lips against mine. I kissed her back, pulling her closer as her fingers slipped into my hair.
Fuck, I’d missed her.
When she finally pulled away, I stole another glance around the living room, still trying to figure out what the hell she’d done while I was gone.
“Darling, I think I walked into the wrong house.”
Mila followed my gaze before bursting into laughter, her arms still loosely wrapped around my neck.
“What? You don’t like it?”
I raised an eyebrow, looking from her to the ridiculous number of cushions on my couch.
“Did you rob a furniture store while I was at work?”
“No!” she exclaimed, throwing her head back with a laugh.
“Then explain why my living room looks like a fucking unicorn threw up in it.”
“You seriously have to ask me that? Your house looked dead before I moved in.”
“I’m just trying to understand what happened here.”
She smacked my shoulder, making me laugh before I kissed her cheek and carefully lowered her to the floor. Even then, she kept her hands against my chest, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“Sofia and I went shopping.”
I slowly shook my head, glancing around again.
“And you bought the entire store?”
“Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes, although the smile never left her face. “You’re always so dramatic.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. A little color isn’t going to kill you, Enzo.” She tilted her head, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “You’re not afraid of anything, but apparently you’re terrified of colorful pillows.”
I stared at her in disbelief, which only made her laugh harder.
“Very funny, darling.”
“You are terrified of color,” she insisted, grinning. “Wait until you get upstairs. Your house needed some color, and honestly, it needed a lot of things it didn’t have before I came into your life.”
She lifted her chin proudly.
“You’re welcome.”
Little fucking troublemaker.
I folded my arms across my chest, struggling to keep a straight face.
“My house had color.”
“Yeah. Black, gray, and more black.” She gestured around us, looking thoroughly unimpressed with my decorating choices. “Those aren’t colors, Enzo. Those belong in your office at work.”
“What’s wrong with black? I like black.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Her eyes traveled down my body before returning to my face. “You look like you’re going to a funeral every day.”
I stared at her.
I was living with a fucking comedian.
“I thought you liked black on me, darling. What happened to that?” I asked, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.
She rested her hands against my chest, smiling up at me.
“I do like it.”
Then she lifted one hand to my cheek and pulled me down for a kiss.
“But not in the house,” she added against my lips.
I glanced around at the flowers, the candles, and those ridiculous pillows before looking back at her. Reaching up, I gently caught her chin between my fingers, tilting her face toward mine.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty, darling.”
Her mouth fell open in mock outrage.
I laughed at her expression and kissed her again before she could start another argument. Her hands slid up my chest as she leaned into me, and for a moment, I forgot all about the fucking pillows.
When I pulled back, she looked up at me with a softer smile.
“Did you have a good day?”
“I had to deal with a bunch of fucking assholes.”
“So, a normal day?” she teased, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from my shirt. “Well, I made dinner for us.”
I caught her hand and brought her knuckles to my lips.
“What did you make?”
“Pasta.”
“Now you’re speaking my language. I’m starving.”
She smiled proudly, clearly pleased with my reaction.
“Dinner’s almost ready. I’m going to finish setting the table.”
“All right, darling.”
She rose onto her toes to kiss my cheek before turning toward the kitchen. Halfway there, she glanced over her shoulder and pointed a warning finger at me.
“And don’t touch anything!”
I slipped my hands into my pockets, giving her an innocent smile.
“No promises.”
Her laughter followed her into the kitchen, and I shook my head as I turned back toward the living room.
Now that I’d recovered from the initial shock, I started noticing the photographs she’d arranged on the shelves. There was one of us together, another of Mila and Sofia, and a group picture from one of our nights out.
A faint smile tugged at my mouth.
Then something caught my eye.
I stopped, narrowing my eyes at one particular frame.
No fucking way.
I stepped closer, leaning forward to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Of all the pictures she could’ve put in my house, she’d chosen that fucking asshole.
“Mila.”
“What?” she called from the kitchen.
“Darling, get your ass in here. We have a fucking problem.”
A few seconds later, she appeared in the doorway, her eyebrows drawing together as she looked at me.
“What happened?”
I picked up the photograph between two fingers, holding it as far away from myself as possible.
“Explain this one to me.”
She glanced at the picture, then back at me, looking completely unbothered.
“That’s my brother.”
I stared at her.
“Yes, darling. I’m aware of who the fuck he is. My question is why he’s living on my shelf.”
She pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile.
“Enzo, he’s your brother now too.”
“Yes. In some fucked-up way, he is. I already spend enough time suffering because of that.”
I gestured toward the photograph, genuinely offended by the sight of Dante’s face in my living room. “I’m around that asshole enough as it is. I come home for some peace, and now he’s here too? What’s next? You gonna give him a key?”
Mila burst out laughing, pressing a hand against her stomach.
“He’s family!”
“Yeah, and that’s why we have a family group chat. He doesn’t have to live on my shelf.”
She covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her laughter.
I looked down at the photograph again.
“Look at him,” I muttered, tilting the frame slightly. “Smug motherfucker. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I feel like he’s about to tell me to go fuck myself.”
Mila doubled over, laughing so hard she could barely stand straight.
I studied the picture for another second before placing it back on the shelf.
Face down.
“Enzo!”
I turned toward her, widening my eyes innocently.
“What? He’s still part of the family, darling. He’s just taking a nap.”
She rushed forward and immediately picked up the frame, turning it upright again while I watched her with a satisfied smirk.
I shook my head dramatically.
“Now I have to look at his face every time I walk through my own living room. I feel watched.”
“I’m gonna pee myself! Stop, please!”
She was laughing so hard that she had to lean against me for support. I slipped an arm around her waist, holding her steady while she struggled to catch her breath.
And fuck me.
I loved that sound.
The way her eyes squeezed shut when she laughed too hard, the way she grabbed my shirt to keep herself upright, and how her entire face lit up whenever something genuinely amused her.
She could turn the smallest, stupidest thing into something that made my entire fucking day better.
Eventually, she managed to straighten up, wiping beneath one eye before carefully adjusting Dante’s photograph on the shelf. Then she turned toward me, giving me a warning look.
“Don’t touch it.”
I raised both hands in surrender, a smirk pulling at my lips.
“Whatever you want, darling.”
She shook her head, still smiling as she headed back toward the kitchen.
I remained where I was for a moment, looking around the living room again, taking in the flowers, the ridiculous pillows, and the photographs she’d placed on the shelves.
I’d lived in this house for years, but it had never felt like this before. It had always been just a place to come back to after work.
Then Mila moved in.
I glanced toward the kitchen, watching her hum to herself as she set the table, a smile tugging at my lips.
Fuck, I loved that woman.
She had turned my entire life upside down, and somehow, I loved her even more for it. I used to think I had everything I needed, but looking at her now, I realized what had been missing all along.
Her.
She could paint the whole damn house pink if she wanted to.
As long as she was here.
For the first time in my life, this place actually felt like home.
And I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.
Except maybe that picture of Dante.
