ENRIQUE
It was pretty late when I returned to the penthouse, letting myself up into my suite.
The door swung open, and the moment I stepped into the room, my breath hitched in my throat. A cardboard box lay upended near the bed, facing the glass, its contents—a tangle of clothes, shoes, and what looked like a journal—sprawled across the floor like a miniature explosion. My sharp eyes darted from one garment to the next, my pulse quickening as if the chaos had a heartbeat of its own, pounding louder with each passing second.
My chest tightened. I gripped the door frame, my knuckles whitening as a wave of unease rolled over me.
Why is this here? How did this happen?
The questions spiraled in my mind, drowning out reason.
I stepped forward, my movements stiff and deliberate.
My eyes caught the shirt half-draped over a chair. The scarf twisted awkwardly against the leg of the bed. The way the journal's spine was bent at an odd angle.
There was a buzz in my head, refusing to quieten.
My fingers twitched by my side, the urge to fix it… no, correct it… building like an itch I could not reach. I stepped forward, bending down to pick up a stray blouse, smoothing the fabric with precise movements, but it still wasn't enough… not even close to calming the churning in my belly.
My jaw tightened, and I closed my eyes to block out the sight.
"You are back," Olivia's voice reached me. "I am sorry for the mess. It would seem I packed way more than I should."
I inhaled deeply through my nose, the air catching like static in my lungs.
"Are you okay?" she asked, stepping forward in concern.
"Fix this," I muttered under my breath, my voice strained. "Fucking fix this, please."
I took a step back, my hands clenching into fists to keep from reaching out again.
Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening.
"Oh my God, I am so… I had no idea… fuck—"
She reached for the ground, trying and failing to gather the mess in her arms while my eyes followed her movement.
Fucking hell, I thought, getting on my knees to help her pack.
"I am so sorry," she kept muttering over and over again whilst piling everything back in the box.
I kept breathing, calming myself until I could speak without visibly shaking.
"It is no problem," I supplied.
We worked in silence until the place was arranged and her box carefully stocked up in the spare room.
My shoulders visibly relaxed, but the tightness around my mouth remained. I took a measured breath, glancing at the now-cleared floor. "It's not... it's not about the mess," I said finally, my voice quiet but strained. "It's—" I stopped, exhaling sharply, as if struggling to find the right words.
"It bothers you," Olivia finished for me, stepping closer. "I can see that. And I didn't mean to upset you."
My lips pressed into a thin line at her words.
"It is not just about upsetting me. When I see... disorder like that, it is like my mind won't let it go. It's not a choice."
Olivia nodded, setting the scarf down carefully on the bed. "I get that now. And I will try to be more mindful. I don't want to make things harder for you."
I studied her for a moment, my dark eyes softening. "I know you didn't mean to. It's just... when things are out of place, it feels like I am too. Like I'm... unraveling."
"Enrique," she whispered, her voice tinged with guilt and compassion. "I didn't know."
"I didn't want you to," I admitted, my gaze flickering to the floor. "It's not something I'm proud of."
She stepped closer, her hand hesitating before resting lightly on my arm.
I glanced at her hand, the fine line of it… the warmth of her touch.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of," she told me.
She had no idea how weak it made me.
The fact that I wanted control so badly I was this affected if there was anything out of place… anything outside my control.
Like her reluctance to sell the construction company to me.
I would shoot a man and have his brain matter splatter all over me, and I would not flinch, but streak your clothes in a disorderly manner, and my anxiety would shoot over the roof.
"I should have known when I walked in," she smiled apologetically.
Her hand remained on my arm, and when I glanced down at it again, she retrieved it hastily.
I was tempted to reach out for it and place it right back where it was, but I did not.
"A box came for you, I think. It was outside when I arrived."
"And you brought it into my home?" I jumped to my feet, my eyes hardening.
"I… okay, that was stupid of me, but I did not think—"
"Of course, you did not, Olivia," I snapped at her.
Her mouth closed, and her eyes lowered as she pointed in the direction of the box.
I reached for it like it was a rattlesnake poised to strike and opened it slowly.
A fanciful envelope lay in it, but it was the symbol at the edge of it that set my heart racing.
The Galacian mafia.
They were holding a ball in the city, and this was my invite.
I tore the envelope, revealing careful calligraphy addressed to Ghost
I glanced around, noting that Olivia had walked away.
"Fuck," I cursed.
If they were addressing it to Ghost, then it was a meet disguised as a ball.
A scribble at the extreme end of the invite caught my attention.
Bring your wife, it read.
Shit.
This was bad.
I pocketed the note and disposed of the box, watching it burn in the incinerator along with the envelope the invite had come in.
My father was making moves behind my back. I could smell a foul with the invite, and it had my father's MO written all over it.
The fucker.
Drew had an extra eighteen hours to work on the allegations, and right now, I needed a fucking drink.
I helped myself to a bottle of whiskey, the note at the forefront of my mind.
They were in my city, and that could only mean they were here on business and, of course, to see how well the operation they had sent me here to carry out was going.
Ghost was my nickname, and I was only called that in serious cases such as this one.
Bring your wife.
I had not thought this marriage through.
I was putting Olivia's life in danger, and a week ago, I did not think I would have given two fucks who she was. Hell, I would have put a bullet in her head myself if it meant getting my plan done. But right now, it was weird how much I wanted to protect her.
But I was no fairy tale prince, and the last thing I believed in was a happy ever after.