Accidentally Yours Chapter 20

**Enzo**

She toweled off, hair wrapped in another, body wrapped in barely anything and stepped into the bedroom like she hadn’t just unraveled both of them in the shower.

***She’s one of those beginning and end kind of girls. It all starts and ends with her.***

Enzo watched her from across the room, a towel slung around his waist, water still dripping from his collarbone.

“Guest room’s ready if you need space,” he said casually, nodding toward the other wing.

***But I sure hope you don’t.***

Lola paused mid-step. Tilted her head.

“Pretty sure it would look suspicious if your fiancée was hiding in another bedroom,” she said.

Then, without missing a beat:

“So I’m staying in here.”

Enzo said nothing.

***Thank god!***

But inside?

A fucking riot.

Because the idea of her slipping under his sheets? Wearing his shirt? Sleeping inches from him where he could hear every sound she made?

***Yeah. No argument here.***

She breezed past him toward her bag—threw it open, rummaging through what little she’d packed. 

Not much.

She held up a few pieces. Made a face. Then pulled out the outfit, tight black leather-look leggings, a fitted halter and

black stilettos. She looked like hellfire with lipstick.

***I want to taste those lips, that skin.***

Enzo’s mouth went dry.

“Going for subtle?” he asked.

***You’re anything but.***

She smirked. “If I’m gonna die in a mob shootout, I might as well look hot doing it.”

***I can’t even argue with that logic. Time is a luxury in my world. You never know who’s looking to be next top dog.*** 

She turned toward the mirror and pulled the towel loose—completely unbothered—and started dressing. One leg, then the other, hips shimming into place like temptation itself.

Enzo sat on the edge of the bed and watched her in silence.

He didn’t reach for his phone.

Didn’t move.

But when she turned to adjust the halter, he said—quietly, like it didn’t matter:

“What size shoe do you wear?”

She glanced at him, surprised. “Seven. Why?”

“Just curious.”

She raised a brow but didn’t push it.

By the time she was slipping on the stilettos, he’d already typed the message to his assistant. 

Stock the second master closet.

Size 7 shoes. XS/S clothes.

Black. Leather. Tight.

Make it look like it’s been there.

Tonight.

He tucked the phone away just as she turned.

***Holy hell.***

***She’s devastating.***

Hair a little wild. Eyes sharp. Mouth set like she was ready to destroy something. And the outfit?

Sandy at the end of Grease had nothing on this girl.

This was mob-wife-in-the-making with a vendetta.

“You good?” she asked, throwing a hand on her hip.

 ***Not at all.***

Enzo stood slowly. Walked over. Let his hand brush the curve of her waist as he passed.

“You look dangerous,” he murmured, voice thick.

“Yeah?” She raised a brow. “That gonna be a problem?”

His hand slid lower—barely touching.

“Big one.”

**Lola**

The walk to the roof should not have felt like foreplay.

And yet…

Her stilettos tapped against polished floors with precision. Enzo’s hand rested low on her back—low enough to be a threat, steady enough to be a promise—guiding her down sleek corridors like they weren’t freshly fucked and wearing it a little too well.

“I’m going to need a Plan B, I don’t take any birth control.”

“I’ve already asked the housekeeper to stock some in our bathroom.” 

***Oh, I liked how easily he slipped that in there—‘our bathroom’. I like that a lot.***

They passed two sharply dressed guards and a maid who absolutely looked away too late.

“Is everyone on this floor armed?” she asked under her breath.

Enzo smirked. “They are now.”

She rolled her eyes and kept walking, hips swaying with pure defiance.

And he noticed.

Oh, he fucking noticed.

His fingers curled slightly against her spine, like he was restraining himself from dragging her into the nearest shadow and picking up where the shower left off.

“You’re enjoying this,” she muttered.

His voice dropped to her ear.

“I haven’t enjoyed anything this much in years.”

***Maybe I’ll make this more enjoyable, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.***  

She swallowed hard, fighting the heat clawing its way up her neck.

Then they reached the private elevator and he pressed his thumb to a hidden scanner.

The doors opened.

The ride was fast. Silent. Tense in the best way.

When the doors opened—

Lola’s jaw nearly hit the floor. ***Holy shit.***

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

The rooftop was… a dream on steroids.

Not a dream she would’ve had—but something out of a billionaire fantasy spread across three city blocks of skyline.

A full bar glittered beneath string lights, complete with a glowing onyx counter and suspended glass shelves.

There was a sunken dining area with a long obsidian table, enough to seat twenty.

A lap pool glowed blue along one edge—empty for now but lit like a resort.       A patch of fake grass held a lounge area with low tables, firepits, and yes—fucking hammock swings.

It was too much.

Too perfect.

Too “I have a private army and a cleaning staff that rotates hourly.”

“Is that…” She turned to him. “Is that turf?”

Enzo didn’t look even a little smug.

“Imported from Italy.”

****inner eye roll* of course it is. Good thing he’s cute.***

“Oh my god, of course it is.”

She stepped forward, staring up at the crisscross of string lights above them, trailing a hand over the smooth bar surface, then eyeing the lounge area with suspicion.

“You’re really committing to this mob boss Barbie dreamhouse, huh?”

He chuckled, stepping in behind her.

“You’re the one who wore stilettos to war.”

She smirked. “I could drop you to your knees in the stilettos if I need to.”

Before he could answer, the elevator dinged again—more footsteps echoed into the rooftop as Gino and the rest of the crew started to arrive.

***Alright girl, we’ve already met them. We. Got. This.***

All male eyes turned in unison.

One slow inhale later—

“Holy shit.”

“Jesus.”

“Damn.”

“Damn Lola, what the fuck?”

Enzo just slid an arm around her waist like he expected the comments.

“Eyes up, boys.”

Then, to her, sotto voce:

“You ready for this?”

Lola turned, flashing a dazzling smile. ***Hell yeah. *channeling my inner Shia LaBeouf * JUST DO IT.***

“I was born ready. But let’s give them something to talk about.”