Tabitha:
The pain from my hand was still there, although now faint. I tossed from one side of my bed to the other as I reeled from what the day had instilled for me. Embarrassment from what had happened or more pain. I had initially planned to stay up in my room all day but the agonizing pain that came from my grumbling tummy was hard to ignore. The savory smell of pancakes filled my nose and I sighed in defeat as I climbed down my bed, I got into the bathroom and freshened up, before heading downstairs. As my legs thumped up the stairs, the smooth sound of jazz music playing from the built-in speakers filled my ears. Nothing like a good Sunday starting with a good breakfast, if only the sight of my godfather didn’t send me into a spiral, it would have been perfect. As I walked slowly to the kitchen, my eyes fell on the God of a man. His back facing me, shirtless. Huge and tall with really amazing tattoos drawn on his arm. Enzo Ross, cooking? Where was his housekeeper or chef? The smell of eggs hit my nose and I sighed. Enzo turned around to the kitchen island but then his eyes landed on me, he wasn’t surprised to see me, it was like he knew I was there. He knew. “Good morning,” he didn’t smile at me but just hearing him say good morning in his morning voice sent a tingling sensation down my spine and my clit for some weird reason. Goddammit, you sexually starved weirdo. “Good thing you’re awake. Come, have breakfast.” I was too dazed. What should I say? He’d acted like we hadn’t had a pending argument or like I hadn’t gone to sleep angry because of him. “Tabby.” His baritone voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I raised my brows, confused. “Huh?” “Breakfast, come sit.” I walked further and sat on the stool while I watched him move with all precision. His body was built like he was a day older than twenty-seven, My eyes roamed around his body like I was in search of something, from his built chest to his abs and V of his pubic region. Jesus! Tabitha. This man is your goddamn Godfather. Whatever makes you see him in such a way? Maybe the fact that he was so fucking hot? Maybe it was because I was sexually starved and I needed to be fed. But why did I need to feed off this man? “How’s your hand?” He asked, dropping the plate of eggs on the island. I didn’t know. Was it still hurting? My mind had long been occupied with how good he looked and how hot he looked cooking breakfast. “Better.” I mouthed. “Good. Eat.” His words were short and it felt like a command, I had no choice but to eat. I was hungry anyway. “Yesterday ..” he paused as he spoke, it felt like it was some sort of heavy word to say. I looked up at him. Did I look small to him? This man was huge. “I crossed the line with my many questions. You’re an adult and can make decisions for yourself. I’m sorry Tabitha.” For some reason, it felt hot to see Enzo Ross apologize to me. Enzo Ross, owner of Ross Limited was apologizing to Tabitha? It was not something one saw all the time. “It’s fine, but please stay out of my business,” I stated. My business was my business no matter what, even if he was my parent which he wasn’t, I doubt I would be able to tell him my business. “I don’t think I can, Tabby. You’ve been gone for too long and I just care about you a lot.” “You’ll have to learn it, I’m not that little girl anymore. The girl who needed assistance all of her life.” I blinked as I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible. “She’s gone, Enzo” I cracked. That girl was long gone with her parents. “You’re all I have, Tabitha.” His words sent a shiver down my spine. Never would I have thought that I would hear Enzo say words that cut so deep. I was all he had and he was all I had. This was my home no matter how hard I tried to deny it. “I forgive you.” I pressed my lips shut and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “Well, now that’s done. I have some information to give to you. You can start work when your hand is completely healed. And you know what your parents will say. No trust fund until you show you're capable of handling it? What’s one way to show your capability than at Ross Limited? “ I rolled my eyes, he was talking about work again “Please, Enzo. Let’s talk about work later. I’m having breakfast.” I rolled my eyes as I watched him pick at his food. He nodded, staring at me like I had committed some sort of crime. Jet black hair, honey brown eyes, beautiful small lips. I felt hypnotized by his stare. Like he would lure me into bed with his eyes and heck I was gonna fall. “There’s something on your face.” I pointed out and I tried wiping my lips immediately but it must have stayed because he covered the gap between us as his hand reached for my face to wipe it off. He took it off but his hand lingered on my face, grazing me softly and caressing me. My body fell for this subtle touch and my breath hitched. What was he doing to me? How could one man have so much power over my body without even trying? “Enzo” his name fit in my mouth like it was made just for my small mouth. I felt my body tense under his gaze. His eyes lingered on me, from my head to my upper body. His hands caressed my chin softly and then he brushed his thumb against my lips, The air suddenly felt tense and I parted my lips open. My body grew wet just from his gaze. What the hell was wrong with me? What was this man doing to me? I would either regret not giving in to the will of my high libido body or get embarrassed because of my high libido. Either way, I hated being embarrassed.Tabitha: The pain from my hand was still there, although now faint. I tossed from one side of my bed to the other as I reeled from what the day had instilled for me. Embarrassment from what had happened or more pain. I had initially planned to stay up in my room all day but the agonizing pain that came from my grumbling tummy was hard to ignore. The savory smell of pancakes filled my nose and I sighed in defeat as I climbed down my bed, I got into the bathroom and freshened up, before heading downstairs. As my legs thumped up the stairs, the smooth sound of jazz music playing from the built-in speakers filled my ears. Nothing like a good Sunday starting with a good breakfast, if only the sight of my godfather didn’t send me into a spiral, it would have been perfect. As I walked slowly to the kitchen, my eyes fell on the God of a man. His back facing me, shirtless. Huge and tall with really amazing tattoos drawn on his arm. Enzo Ross, cooking? Where was his housekeeper
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.”
Tabitha: I froze, the voice. It was deep, rough, and familiar. I was alone. At least, I was supposed to be. I turned, heart hammering, still clutching my burning hands mid-air. The towel slipped loose with the movement. I gasped and reached out to it out of instinct, but it was too late. It hit the floor in a useless heap around my feet. “Fuck.” My tank top was wet from my hair and it was see-through and I was barely in good underwear. There, standing in the doorway, was Enzo, my godfather. Dressed sharp in his black slacks and white shirt, sleeves rolled up like he’d just stormed in from work. His dark eyes locked on mine, widening with instant panic, not at my almost naked body, not at the awkward scene, but at the red, blistering mess that were my hands. “Jesus, Tabby!” he cursed, dropping everything, phone, his keys, and what looked like takeout right onto the kitchen island with a loud clatter. In two long strides, he was in front of me. I was shaking, an
Tabitha: I dragged a box across the glossy floor and huffed. “Be careful with that one!” I called out, watching one of the movers juggle my vanity mirror like it was a football. “It’s glass, not a damn frisbee.” “Sorry, Miss Hyest,” the young lad muttered, adjusting his grip. I sighed, wiping sweat off my forehead. Moving sucked. Moving into this place? Ten times worse. The damn penthouse was massive, and every sound echoed like I was living inside a concert hall. “Okay, that can go in my room,” I pointed upstairs where the double doors were already open. They nodded as they carried the last box up. "Finally," I let out a breath that came from the depths of my tired soul. I was doing less than 20% of the actual work, but even that was a Herculean task. I plopped onto the couch, half-dying already. Who knew telling people where to put stuff could be so exhausting? My phone buzzed on the coffee table, but before I could grab it, the front door swung open. No