The drawer clicked shut just as Eva turned.
But it was too late.
Enzo stood in the doorway, shadows curling around him like smoke. His eyes silver, stormy didn't blink. They didn't move. They just watched.
"Looking for something?" His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind that made her skin crawl with cold despite the warmth in the room.
Eva swallowed, pulse spiking. "I… I was just looking for a pen."
Lame. So lame.
His silence answered for him. A beat passed. Then two. And then he stepped inside.
Each footfall was deliberate. Quiet. Dangerous.
Her back brushed the edge of the desk as she instinctively retreated. "I didn't mean to pry"
"Yet you did."
He reached the desk, fingers gliding across its surface… and paused right where the lock sat.
Eva didn't breathe.
Enzo's lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. It was a warning wrapped in velvet. "Some doors stay closed for a reason, dolcezza."
She wanted to speak, to apologize but something in his gaze froze her. The air between them thickened, laced with things unsaid.
He turned abruptly.
"Follow me."
Just like that.
No yelling. No accusation. No explanation.
And somehow, that silence was worse.
They walked the long hallway in silence. Enzo didn't touch her. Didn't glance at her. The distance between them stretched like miles of cold marble.
When they reached her room, he opened the door, but didn't step inside.
"I'll have someone move your things tomorrow," he said, voice clipped. "Your closet is being stocked. You'll find everything you need. If not, ask. You'll be given access to an assistant, a driver, more tutors for your brother anything you require."
Eva looked up at him. "And what about you?"
He met her gaze. Hard. Icy. "What about me?"
"I just… you're different now."
He didn't flinch. Didn't soften.
"You looked at her photo," he said, finally. "That makes you different now too."
Eva's throat closed.
"Who was she?" she whispered.
Silence.
Then,
"She was everything." His jaw flexed. "Until she wasn't."
That was it. He turned to leave.
But Eva stepped forward, hand catching his wrist. "Was she… why I'm here?"
Enzo's eyes dipped to where her fingers touched him.
And then he said the most terrifying thing of all:
"You're here because I chose you."
He pulled away.
And left her standing there cold, aching, and full of questions.
***
Sleep didn't come easy that night.
The sheets smelled like lavender and secrets. The silk clung to her bare skin, but the chill inside her came from something else entirely.
She tossed. Turned.
That photo.
That woman.
That look in Enzo's eyes when he saw her holding it.
She looked like me.
But not exactly. Softer. Her smile had been free. Untouched. Unbroken.
Was that who he saw whenever he looked at me?
And worse
Was that who he wanted me to be?
The next morning, the estate ran like a well oiled dream.
A private chef delivered breakfast to her room. Her closet looked like a fashion shoot exploded inside it designer clothes with price tags that made her stomach twist.
Noah laughed in the distance. His tutor had arrived early. The boy was practically glowing, already reciting math facts like he'd been born in a classroom.
It should've made her happy.
But all Eva could think about… was the woman in the photo.
She wandered the halls alone. Enzo hadn't summoned her. Hadn't texted. Hadn't shown up at all.
She hated how that felt.
Like rejection. Like abandonment.
Like punishment.
Hours passed.
She was wandering down the west wing when she heard the piano.
Low. Haunting. Beautiful.
Drawn like a moth, she followed the sound until she reached a room that wasn't on the tour. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, light spilled across black and white keys.
And Enzo.
Alone.
His sleeves were rolled, hair mussed, brow furrowed in focus as his fingers moved with practiced grace.
She didn't interrupt. Just stood there, heart clenching.
He was so different here. So raw. So human.
Like music could bleed what his mouth would never say.
When the last note faded, she whispered, "Why don't you let anyone see you like this?"
Enzo didn't turn. "Because no one deserves it."
"You're wrong."
Now he looked.
Straight at her.
Something flickered in his eyes. Hope. Fear. Or maybe just need.
He stood slowly. Crossed to her.
"Are you here to apologize?" he asked, voice low.
She nodded. "I shouldn't have opened the drawer."
"No," he said, voice sharp. "You shouldn't have lied about it."
Eva winced.
"I just… I needed to know if you were hiding something. I'm living here now. You're in my life, my brother's life. And I don't know anything about you."
"You know enough."
"I don't," she whispered. "Why won't you tell me about her?"
His hands slid around her waist. "Because she doesn't matter anymore."
"Then why do you look like you're still bleeding from her?"
Enzo's grip tightened.
He backed her into the wall, caging her in with his body, breath warm against her neck.
"I told you the rules," he murmured. "No lies. No touching what isn't yours. No asking about the past."
"I'm not asking about the past," she whispered, trembling. "I'm asking if I'm just a placeholder."
That snapped something.
He kissed her.
Hard. Desperate. Hungry.
And Eva,
Eva kissed him back.
Because the ache in his touch didn't feel like lust. It felt like grief.
It felt like need.
He spun her around, pressing her to the wall, lips dragging down her throat.
"You think I see her when I look at you?" His voice rasped. "You think I'm haunted by a ghost?"
His hand slid under her dress, fingers teasing her thigh. "Tell me. Right now. Do I feel like a man who wants someone else?"
"No…" she gasped.
"Say it again."
"You want me."
"Damn right I do."
Clothes hit the floor in messy silence. Skin met skin.
This time, it wasn't rushed.
It wasn't a transaction.
It was something darker. Deeper.
Like he was trying to erase someone else from his soul… and brand her in their place.
Eva moaned as he moved inside her, slow and relentless. His hands gripped her like he didn't trust himself to let go.
His lips brushed her ear.
"You're not her," he whispered. "You'll never be her."
But the way he said it… it didn't sound like comfort.
It sounded like a curse.
***
Later, she lay against his chest, heart still racing.
He didn't speak.
Didn't touch her.
Just stared at the ceiling like it held answers to questions he couldn't ask.
Eva turned her face to him. "What happened to her?"
Silence.
She pressed gently, "Did she die?"
"No," he said. "She's very much alive."
Eva blinked. "Then what"
"She betrayed me."
A chill ran down her spine.
Enzo looked at her then. "Do you know what betrayal feels like, Eva?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes."
"No," he whispered. "Not yet."
That night, Eva couldn't sleep.
Not because of the sex. Or the silence. Or even the secrets.
But because something inside her cracked open and she didn't know if it could be closed again.
Enzo had touched her like she mattered.
But he'd spoken to her like she didn't.
Like she was a risk. A ghost. A mistake waiting to happen.
She got out of bed.
Wrapped in nothing but one of his shirts, she padded barefoot to the study.
The drawer was locked again.
But a paperclip and curiosity were a dangerous combination.
Click.
Inside, the photo waited.
This time, she looked closer.
The woman smiled softly. Her eyes sparkled. She stood in the same room Eva now lived in, a glass of wine in her hand, a black dress clinging to curves that matched hers exactly.
Her hands trembled.
She looked like me. But happier. Untouched.
Is that why he chose me?
Was this love?
Or was it a punishment?
She stared at the woman's face, heart pounding.
And whispered,
"Am I her… or am I me?"