3. Enzo

Enzo Ross:

She looked so small sitting there, oversized T-shirt swallowing her frame, cheeks flushed from a whole lot of emotions.

Embarrassment? Pain? Maybe both, maybe more.

I picked up another piece of chicken and held the fork out to her. “Open.”

Her lips parted just a bit hesitant this time.

I fed her carefully, watching her eyes more than I should have.

"God, when did you grow up?" I asked.

I remembered the awkward eighteen-year-old who had stumbled into my penthouse two years ago, still shell-shocked from burying her parents.

I remembered holding her when she cried herself to sleep those first few weeks but this was different.

She was more mature now, the grief, the confusion, most, maybe all of it was gone.

Her eyes met mine, bright and sharp, and her mouth curled into a wry little smile.

"Grown?" She chuckled sourly.

“Yes, you’re not the same little Tabby I used to know. You’re more mature, more grown.” That’s the word.

“What should I say? Thank you.” She chuckled and a half smile formed across my lips.

She grinned, her entire face lighting up. For a second, I forgot about the lines we weren’t supposed to cross. For second I felt like having her in my arms.

I cleared my throat. “Listen,” I set the fork down.

“About earlier.” Her smile faltered just a touch.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” I said quietly.

“If it made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

A deep, rose-pink creeping across her cheeks and down her neck. Her eyes darted away.

I sighed inwardly.

She tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear and shook her head, her voice a little too fast.

“It’s fine. You were just trying to help.”

But now she wouldn’t meet my gaze. I’d made her self-conscious again.

The last thing I wanted was for her to feel unsafe around me.

Especially not after what she’d been through.

Still, my eyes had betrayed me back there in the kitchen. I hadn’t meant to look, but hell, how could I not?

Tabby wasn’t a little girl anymore and that realization scared the shit out of me.

I picked up the fork again, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, at least, you don't have to touch a pot for a while. Good thing, no?”

She laughed softly, finally looking up again.

But deep down, I knew this was just the beginning of a dangerous line I had no business walking.

I finished feeding her the last bite and pushed the empty plate aside.

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re officially stuffed.”

She gave me a small smile and leaned back in her chair.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." I mouthed.

I stood, gathering our plates, and carried them over to the sink.

As the warm water ran over the dishes, I glanced at her over my shoulder.

“So, graduation.” My voice came out casual, but hell, I hated that I’d missed most of it. “I’m sorry I was late.”

She shrugged lightly, running her fingers along the edge of her water glass. “It’s fine. You had a business trip. Besides, Ryan was there.”

I stiffened, I hadn’t heard that name before.

I forced my tone to stay light.

“Who’s Ryan? Friend from school?” She hesitated, eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“He was with me through most of the ceremony.”

"That wasn’t what I asked."

I set a plate in the rack and grabbed another.

“What’s his major?”

She pressed her lips together, clearly debating if she wanted to answer.

“Tabby,” I said softly, trying not to sound too damn nosy. But the words just came out.

“I’m just curious. That’s all.”

Her shoulders rose and fell.

“Business, like me.” Of course he does.

I grabbed a towel to dry my hands, leaning against the counter now, fully facing her.

“And, Ryan is?” She let out a breath.

Then she looked up, defiant eyes locking on mine.

“He was my boyfriend.” The word hit harder than it should have, Something cold settled in my chest.

I didn’t know why it bothered me.

She was grown now, she could date whoever the hell she wanted but hearing it from her lips twisted something deep inside me.

I gave a small nod, I see.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “Is that, weird for you to hear?” I let out a humorless chuckle.

“You’re an adult, Tabby. You can date whoever you want. Doesn’t mean I won’t ask questions, though.”

She smirked.

“Typical godfather move.” I raised a brow.

“You should know by now, I don’t do typical.”Her laugh softened the air between us, but inside, a slow-burning unease had started to grow.

I shouldn’t have pressed but the second she told me, I felt something tug at me from deep within.

I couldn't place it, maybe a sense of responsibility, maybe?

I pushed off the counter, crossing my arms.

“So why’d you break up?” Tabby blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“With Ryan.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “What happened?”

She frowned, her fingers drumming against the glass.

“That’s personal.”

I took a slow breath, trying to rein it in.

“Tabby, look, I’m not trying to pry. I just want to know if he hurt you. You said was like it ended badly.”

She looked down, biting her lip. “You know you kinda sound like you are trying to pry.”

I stepped closer, the words tumbling out now.

“It is my business when some guy’s in your life and suddenly isn’t. I just need to know you’re okay.”

“I am okay.” Her voice rose a notch.

I stared at her, heart pounding.

“What did he do?” My jaw tensed. “Did he cheat? Did he, did he hit you?”

God, if he did, I'll make him regret it.

She shot up from her seat, her chair scraping the floor.

“Jesus, Enzo, stop!” I flinched. But I couldn’t stop.

I wouldn't.

“Answer me.” Her eyes flashed with something between frustration and disbelief.

“Why? So you can storm out and beat him up? News flash, you’re not my father!”

I opened my mouth, then shut it, and my arms dropped to my sides. The fight drained right out of me.

She shook her head, voice softer now but still sharp. “You can’t just waltz back into my life and try to control it. You weren’t there when I needed you, remember?”

That cut deeper than I cared to admit.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my tone to steady.

“You’re right,” I said quietly.

“You’re not a kid anymore and I’m not your father.” A heavy silence settled between us.

Tabby grabbed her glass and turned toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, Enzo.” I watched her go, feeling like an idiot standing in my damn kitchen.

I wasn’t her father. I wasn’t her anything.

But why the hell did that bother me so much?