Enzo The Housemaid Novels & Stories

She spoke sternly, "Madam, you should understand that your children are also Mr. Enzo's children. Mr. Enzo cannot harm his own children. I hope you'll respect Mr. Enzo." I understood the maid's words very well. I knew that Enzo was the father of my children, but the only thing was that I didn't trust him. In my eyes, Enzo was just a scheming and manipulative person. He had taken my children away multiple times for frivolous reasons. I looked at the maid coldly and said, "I have reasons to say those things." Entering the unchanged bedroom, Enzo was wearing a fur robe and lounging on the sofa. On the table, there was a bottle of wine and two glasses.

I woke up in the morning feeling cold, I stood up and walked inside the bathroom and did my morning routine, got dressed, and opened the door. I saw Enzo there leaning towards the wall, sleeping uncomfortably. I noticed maids hesitating to wake him up, I bent down and shook his shoulder waking him up. He grabbed my hand kissing the back of it, I pulled my hand out, the hurt was evident in his eyes, I couldn't see hurt in his eyes so I looked away.

(ENZO'S POINT OF VIEW) (FLASHBACK) Enzo, 14 years old, entered the kitchen to find his mother over the stove. He came to a halt, his gaze fixed on her back. He studied her with his head tilted. Even if she was hiding so well, he could see how her hands trembled now and then as she stirred whatever she was cooking in the pot, and how she held back a hiss whenever the heat got too hot on the bruises on her hand.

QUADE "Don't you just hate it when the parents fight?" Enzo mocked, eyes twinkling in amusement, "those two seriously need to fuck already. There's not enough holy water in the world to cleanse my eyes after watching them." Zen rolled his eyes. They were opposites in every way, looks and personality. It was something I barely noticed before but nowadays, strange things caught my attention. Like the way Enzo had dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a fucking pretty boy face with a mauled chest — thanks to me — and Zen with his dark eyes that were close to obsidian and his jet black hair. The brains and the brawn. It was obvious which was which.

And only three, desperate, loud taps against the door would ruin her perfect little day. “Coming.” She rushed to the door and opened it, “How may I help you?” Ellaine could barely distinguish the gender of her visitor. That’s because of the black cloak he wore. It was not until she heard his voice that she realized he was a male. Ellaine found it hard to make out the words he said in that deep, rasping voice, “..is..N..mais..Nromais..” “Sorry, what are you talking about?” “Give me the Nromais.”

He doesn’t deserve to have his name dragged through the mud for some trivial, religious bullshit. Finn’s house appeared before us, void of any life. I frowned, not really wanting to be alone. “I barely held it together back there,” Enzo leaned back in the driver’s seat, running both hands through his hair before staring up at the ceiling. “She’s brainwashed.”

“I’m so sorry. I was in the shower. I don’t know how she managed to call you.” I laughed, “Perhaps because I was your last call.” “Yes.” She said, facepalming, “Anyway, how did your meeting go?” “Splendid.” I said, taking a bite, “How is Enzo doing?” “Well, he didn’t get out of his room. He refused to have breakfast too.” I grimaced, “Really?” “Yeah.” She nodded, “He’s probably upset. But at least he’s still safe at home.” “I guess.” “Alright, I need to get Emmy into the shower. I’ll talk to you later?”

JADEN I was lounging on the couch, casually flipping through the pages of a worn book when Enzo walked into the room. He had an apron tied around his waist and a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Jade,” he called out, his voice light and teasing, “Come help me cook. I’m making dinner. Just the two of us.” I arched an eyebrow in surprise, setting the book aside and rising to my feet. “Do you cook?” I asked, genuinely curious as I followed him toward the kitchen.

“Emma? It’s Enzo.” My shoulders sagged with relief. I opened the door to find him on the porch holding a McDonald’s bag, and I got my first real look at him in daylight. Tall, broad, tattooed arms, dark hair that hadn’t seen a comb in days. A face that was handsome in a rough, lived-in way. “Figured you’d need breakfast,” he said. The simple kindness of it nearly broke me. He stepped inside and set the bag on the counter. Charlotte peeked around the bedroom door, eyes huge. Enzo leaned against the counter, hands in his pockets, giving her space.

I dragged myself out of bed, threw on a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, and headed downstairs with heavy steps. The smell of eggs, bacon, and fresh coffee filled the air. I walked into the dining area and stopped short. Enzo was already there, sitting at the table like he owned it. He looked every inch the fuckable asshole he was—dark hair still messy from sleep, wearing a tight black t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. His jaw was sharp, eyes dark and intense even in the morning light. He glanced up at me, that dangerous little smirk tugging at his lips, but I ignored him completely. I pulled out a chair across from him and sat down without a word. Mom beamed as she