Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Elnora

Elnora stood in the echoing silence after Mason stormed out, her frustration simmering into a slow boil. What had gotten under his skin so suddenly? The change in his demeanor was as sharp as it was bewildering, leaving her seething in the wake of his departure. Hissing out her irritation, she marched into the closet, pulling on a pair of brown lounge wear. The action was more a distraction than a necessity, a way to channel her rising annoyance.

Fully dressed, she flopped onto the bench with a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on her. Mason was clearly wound up about something, and his refusal to talk only made her more determined to uncover whatever it was. The scars on his body flashed in her mind, reminding her of the intimacy they’d almost shared. He should be here with her, their limbs entangled, her fingers tracing the stories etched into his skin.

“Argh!” The sound escaped her as she stood up, shaking off the thought. If he was going to give her the cold shoulder, she wasn’t going to waste time pining over him. She slipped on a pair of black slippers and stepped out of the bedroom, her mind already shifting to more practical matters. Where had they moved her workstation? She needed to bury herself in work, not just to distract herself but to start figuring everything out.

She needed to figure out Joe’s true identity and why he was so hell-bent on finding Enrico. The connection between her and Enrico’s disappearance gnawed at her, a puzzle she couldn’t piece together. And speaking of Enrico, the tattoo—the De Lauro Family Crest—lingered in her thoughts. Mason had the same mark, and it was driving her mad with confusion. Could Enrico have faked his death and somehow transformed himself into Mason? Was that why she was so inexplicably drawn to him? It would explain why Mason didn’t exist in any database she’d scoured.

“Don’t you dare!”

Mason’s voice, booming from the living room, jolted her from her thoughts. It was filled with a rage that made the walls seem to tremble. What could have set him off this time? She silently hoped it was Antonio catching the brunt of his fury. Curiosity piqued, she crept to the top of the stairs and peered down. Mason was squaring off with someone who matched his build and height, their faces obscured by the angle of her view. The stranger stood toe to toe with Mason, matching his intensity, and something about his posture was eerily familiar.

“This won’t change my mind, Leonardo,” the man’s voice cut through the air, and Elnora froze. Recognition hit her like a sledgehammer, memories rushing back in a chaotic swirl. She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to steady the throbbing.

Enrico.

Her heart pounded as she realized who the stranger was. What was Enrico doing here, speaking to Mason? Her pulse quickened as she cautiously descended the stairs, unable to tear her gaze away from Enrico. As if sensing her presence, his head tilted slightly, and those unmistakable grey eyes met hers. For a moment, they widened in surprise before lighting up with a smile that sent a chill down her spine.

“Enrico,” she breathed, the name slipping from her lips in a daze as she continued down the stairs.

Mason turned to face her, stepping aside as if to give her a clearer view of the man who had once been a central figure in her life. Her mind reeled with the realization, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The tattoo, the familiar way Mason had handled her—he was Enrico’s brother. That’s why it all felt so twisted and wrong.

“~Bellissima~,” Enrico greeted her, his smile as disarming as ever.

Her eyes darted between the brothers, trying to reconcile the past with the present. Mason’s eyes closed briefly, a low sigh escaping him as he stepped away into the parlour, leaving her to confront the ghost from her past.

Elnora reached the bottom of the stairs and shoved Enrico as hard as she could, her hands colliding with his chest. He barely budged, catching her wrists with an infuriating ease and holding her against him.

“You gigantic arse! Let go of me,” she spat, struggling futilely against his iron grip.

Enrico chuckled, a sound that grated on her nerves. “Calm down, ~il mio amore~. I know you’re angry—”

“Angry?” she scoffed, her voice rising. “Angry is getting a breakup text. Faking your death and disappearing after I risked everything for you is a whole different level, you selfish prick. Get your hands off me, Ric.”

He smiled down at her, as if her rage was amusing. His strength was undeniable, his hold on her firm but gentle, and no matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t break free. The arrogant grin on his face only fuelled her fury.

“Wipe that stupid smile off your face,” she snapped, her eyes blazing.

“I can’t help it,” Enrico replied. “You look breathtaking.”

“Don’t touch me,” she warned, swatting his hand away when he tried to brush her cheek.

She pushed past him, her eyes locking onto Mason, who was watching her from across the room. His gaze flicked between her and Enrico before settling on her with a smouldering look that was as possessive as it was passionate.

“You’re brothers, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You both have the De Lauro family crest.”

Mason’s response was cool, almost businesslike. “I understand you’re responsible for scrubbing us,” he said. “Thank you.”

Enrico stepped in front of her again, blocking her view of Mason, and the headache she’d been fighting off began to throb more insistently. Up close, the resemblance between the two men was subtle but undeniable—the same height, the same build, the same way they furrowed their brows when they were angry.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Enrico asked, his tone softer now, almost concerned.

“Stop acting like you haven’t been gone for six years!” she snapped. “Why are you here now? What do you want?”

“There’s more to it than you think, ~belle~,” Enrico said.

She didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. If Joe was as obsessed as she feared, he would know Enrico was out of hiding. And that meant she needed to get to her cave, fast. She had to figure out who Joe really was and what he wanted before it was too late.

“What happened to my workspace?” she asked. She wasn’t ready to confront Mason about what he knew—hell, about how much she’d suspected and ignored. When she couldn’t find anything on him, she should have realized that he’d been scrubbed by her own hand. Maybe a part of her had known, but she’d refused to admit it.

Mason’s gaze shifted to his brother, and his voice was clipped. “It will be here by morning.”

“Why is he here?” she asked, jabbing a finger in Enrico’s direction. “If he’s supposedly dead, and Octavia and Joe are out to get him, why is he out of hiding and here?”

“Elnora, he’s standing right there in front of you,” Mason replied. “Ask him.”

Elnora. Not El. The shift in how he addressed her wasn’t lost on her, and it stung more than she wanted it to He knew about her and Enrico—of course he did. But what did it matter now? What did any of this matter?

Elnora’s question hung in the air, tension thickening as Mason hesitated. His eyes darkened, and the room seemed to shrink around them.

“How long have you known about me and Ric?” she asked him.

Mason sighed. “Let’s not dig into the tangled mess of lies that’s wrapped around us, Elnora,” he said. “Enrico was supposed to stay hidden until the statute of limitations expired, but now he’s here, risking everything for what?”

Enrico, who had been watching their exchange stepped forward. “I was worried, El,” he said softly. “If it weren’t for me, none of this would be happening.”

“Don’t,” she warned, slapping his hands away as he reached for her. “You don’t get to touch me like everything’s fine. You used me to disappear and didn’t even give me the decency of a proper goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, El.” Enrico’s voice wavered as he tried to reach for her again, but she backed away, her eyes blazing with anger.

“You didn’t want me mixed up with the mafia? Is that what you’re telling yourself?” She folded her arms defensively over her chest.

Enrico’s gaze softened, but there was a desperation in it. “As much as I trust Mason to protect you, I had to be sure you were okay,” he said, stepping closer and taking her hands in his. “I couldn’t stay away.”

His hands cupped her face, and she felt the warmth of his touch, the familiar comfort of his presence. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t erase the betrayal, the years of silence. She exhaled a weary sigh, her eyes meeting his silver ones that once dazzled her. For what crime was he trying to outrun the clock? Another four years in hiding, and he would have been free. Why risk everything now? Enrico was always too passionate, too impulsive for his own good.

“No, I’m not doing this again.” Elnora pushed his hands away and turned on her heel, storming back up the stairs. The ache in her chest was unbearable, but she refused to let him see it. Not again.

She slammed the door behind her, crawled into the bed, and wrapped herself tightly in the monochrome duvet, as if it could shield her from the chaos spiralling around her.

“This isn’t happening,” she whispered, her voice trembling a little.

Enrico’s sudden reappearance threw everything into disarray. His presence might distract Joe, but it also forced her to question her own goals. She had gone after Enrico because she knew he was connected to the Xor Group, where her father worked before he disappeared. Helping him scrub his family’s existence had been her way of evening the score, but then he ghosted her. Enrico had played her, putting her at risk without a second thought. If the wrong people discovered her program, the danger would escalate. She might have to move it—or worse.

The door creaked open, and Mason stepped inside, lingering in the doorway. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the complications she couldn’t escape.

“If Enrico didn’t show up, you weren’t going to tell me, were you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned her face away from him, an eye roll laced with bitterness.

Mason leaned against the door frame as he looked at her. “There was no point. My plan was to keep you safe and keep him dead. But now, he’s ruined everything. Whoever Joe is, he’ll know by now that Enrico’s out of hiding because he’s got his eyes on you,” Mason replied.

“Let’s not pretend this is about my safety,” Elnora said. “It’s always been about protecting your family.”

Mason shut the door behind him, leaning against it with an air of resignation. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “Keeping our identities secure was my top priority. Everything else—every precaution I took—was for your safety. You wouldn’t be a target of Joe if you hadn’t been involved with Enrico.”

“And you?” she asked, sitting up against the headboard. “Your foul mood—it’s about my involvement with your brother, isn’t it?”

He held her gaze for a long, tense moment, then looked away, his silence answering her question more loudly than words. Elnora smiled bitterly, shaking her head.

“I don’t think we need to be cooped up together in this room,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair. “Joe can’t reach me here.”

Mason’s eyes shot back to hers, a flash of desire cutting through his brooding demeanour. “Can you find him? I want to know who he is and what he wants, so this can be dealt with.” He pushed himself off the door and started toward the living area, his posture rigid, his movements controlled.

She watched him. This was her chance to get out of here and get to her program, to maybe get as far away from the De Lauros’ as possible. When she didn’t reply, Mason turned to look at her.

“Yes,” she finally said. “But I’ll need a program from my cave.”

He watched her, a calculating glint in his eyes. “I’ll get a team–”

“That’s not how it works, Leonardo,” she cut him off. “I’m the only one who can retrieve my program. No one goes with me.”

Mason chuckled, but there was no humour in it. “Don’t call me that. It’s Mason or nothing.”

Her anger flared, inexplicable and consuming. She climbed out of bed and walked up to him, testing the limits of his patience. “But it’s your name, Leonardo De Lauro, isn’t it?”

His nostrils flared, his eyes darkening with unmistakable rage. Elnora held her breath, waiting for the explosion she had provoked.

“Don’t push me, El,” he growled, his jaw clenched as if he were physically biting back his anger.

“Now you call me El? What happened to Elnora, Leonardo?” she spat.

He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, and when he opened them again, they were cold, a deep, unsettling black. Elnora pulse spiked, a flicker of fear mixing with the friction between them. Before she could react, he moved, his hand gripping her neck with a controlled strength as he pulled her close.

“I think it’s time you learned your place,” he whispered.

There was a threat in his words, but also something sexy, something that made her pulse quicken with expectation. He backed her toward the bed, his grip rigid, and in one swift motion, he lifted her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed. The soft sheets cushioned her fall, but the ferocity of his gaze as he loomed over her left no doubt—this was exactly what she’d been waiting for.