DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

Enzo

Age 20

10 years earlier…

I was finally home after nearly two years of weekly letters and sporadic satellite calls home; I was finally standing in my childhood home surrounded by practically everyone I knew. Friends and family packed wall to wall into our tiny townhouse drinking and eating. Some girls I remembered vaguely from high school were dancing in the middle of the room.

Everyone was there to welcome me back from my first overseas tour, I should feel grateful that so many people wanted to celebrate with me, but I felt trapped. The press of bodies all around me, laughter filling my ears, and all I wanted to do was lock myself in my old bedroom and be alone. Well, maybe not completely alone.

Frankie had written to me every week, sometimes with news about what was going on back at home while I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, sometimes questions about what I was doing. I’d looked forward to her letters, even the ones that were just a single page, telling me what they’d eaten for dinner and about the exams she was studying for. Seeing her messy handwriting scrawled across the page was comforting.

I wrote her back, but not as often as she wrote to me. There wasn’t a lot to tell her about, at least not a lot I could tell her. If I let her know just how dangerous things really were she’d lose her mind with worry, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of them to worry; it was useless. Their concern wouldn’t make me any safer. It was up to me and the men in my unit to worry about IEDs and insurgents-not the people we left at home. I didn’t tell her about the roadside bombs, the snipers, or the active shooters. Even thousands of miles away I was protecting her, the same as always.

Instead, I wrote to her about the crappy food and the fine layer of dust-like sand that covered everything out in the desert. I told her about the characters in my unit. Hooch, the awkward hillbilly from West Virginia, who would tell us stories about his great granddaddy who still made moonshine up in the mountains. Ortiz, the consummate ladies’ man, who had seven different women from his home town sending him care packages and nude pictures to ‘keep his spirits up’. Tarzan, the resident jokester of our group, and the time he got extra duty for 45 days after running naked around camp yelling ‘the red coats are coming’ at the top of his lungs.

I painted the picture of a bunch of guys out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do to pass the time but act like idiots, which was partially true. There was enough down time for us to swap stories and basically act like the 20-something guys we were. There were plenty of times though, when shit got serious fast and those same men completely transformed in the span of seconds. One minute someone was dancing around with a pair of skivvies on his head making us all laugh and the next he was assembling his rifle and donning his gear ready to be the soldier he’d been trained to be.

A group of people to my right burst out laughing, pulling me from my thoughts. Scanning the room, I caught sight of her by the back door talking to some guy that I’d gone to school with and my blood started to heat. I didn’t like the way his head was bent close to hers, and I definitely didn’t like the way his hand came up to move a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Not. At. All.

Setting my beer down on the side table, I pushed my way through the crowded room a little more forcefully than was probably necessary. Coming up behind her I placed a hand on her small shoulder and glared at the guy. I couldn’t remember his name, but I knew he was a couple years younger than me-maybe Eddie’s age-it really didn’t matter. What mattered was he knew she was off limits. His eyes widened when he saw me standing there, and he made up some excuse about getting a refill, even though his cup was clearly full, before taking off for the backyard.

Frankie swiveled around, her mouth practically hanging open in shock.

“What’d you do that for?” she asked incredulously.

I glared down at her, my jaw set. She was so small compared to me, especially since I’d filled out quite a bit while I was away. She’d filled out too, I’d noticed, but in a completely different way. She was still petite, but the cut-off shorts and tank top she wore left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Come here,” I grumbled, taking her hand and pulling her up the stairs and into the hallway away from the party.

“Ouch! Shit, Enzo. What the fuck?” she complained once I released her.

“Stay away from that guy,” I growled, knowing full well that I had no right to demand anything from her, but I couldn’t help the possessive instinct I’d felt when I saw her talking to him.

“Why? We were just talking,” she said, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Bullshit! He was trying to get in your pants,” I said, raking my eyes down her body and back up again before continuing, “what little of them there’s left, that is. Jesus, why don’t you go put on some fucking clothes?”

“Excuse me? There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing. Why are you being a fucking asshole right now?” she asked, punctuating her question with a shove to my shoulder.

I could feel my jaw tick with anger. “Every guy down there has been eye-fucking you all goddamn night, and I’m sick of fucking watching it. Go put on some clothes so I don’t have to fucking kill someone, okay?” I ground out through gritted teeth.

She blinked up at me in shock, then she burst out laughing. I waited, stunned as she continued to laugh, going as far as to bend over and hold her stomach. “Oh my God,” she breathed, when she’d finally caught her breath again. “You almost had me going there for a minute. Jesus, Enzo, you have the overprotective big brother thing down, but you can stop now,” she said, patting my chest before turning to walk away.

That just pissed me off. My arm shot out and hooked around her middle pulling her back toward me before I backed her into the wall, stepping in close and invading her space.

“I am not your brother,” I growled an inch from her face.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks started to burn. “I know, I just meant- ”

“I know what you meant, and you’re wrong,” I said bending my head closer to hers. Frankie’s breath caught when I placed my hands on her hips. “Franny-” I started, but was interrupted by a voice at the end of the hall.

“Frankie, your mother wants you,” Eddie’s strained voice called out. I jerked my head up and immediately took a step back, letting my arms drop to my sides.

What the fuck was I doing?Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Eddie was staring hard at us. No, he was staring at Frankie, like he was pissed about something. None of us said anything for a long uncomfortable minute, and then Frankie broke the semi-standoff, squeezing past Eddie and rushing down the stairs. I watched her go and dread filled my stomach. I had a feeling I’d just seriously fucked up.