Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Enzo

“Good. If you need anything just text me or ask Nico since he’ll be here.”

Then, coffee in hand, he turned and walked out the door-

smiling like a man who knew exactly who he belonged to.

He left her in the kitchen still barefoot, still smug, still the most dangerous little creature he’d ever let in.

The elevator doors slid shut behind him, but her scent lingered–citrus, sugar, honeysuckle. Sweet. Bright. His.

He exhaled, adjusting his suit jacket as the elevator descended to the middle floors. The HQ wing was all glass and steel, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the penthouse above. Everything about it said power lives here. And he did.

“Finally,” Marco muttered, already flipping through a tablet as Enzo stepped into the control room. “We thought your fiancée might’ve eaten you.”

Gino perked up from where he sat cross–legged on the conference table, hair a mess, holding a protein bar like it had insulted his family. “She tie you up again? Blink twice if you need a volunteer.”

Enzo smirked. “You wouldn’t survive the foreplay.”

Dom didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

Enzo shrugged off his jacket. “Traffic.”

Marco raised a brow. “From the kitchen?”

“She made toast,” Gino offered helpfully, like that explained everything.

Enzo ignored them and leaned against the console. “Run it.”

Marco clicked into the week’s report.

Two minor skirmishes with the Bellandi crew–escalating fast.

One inside informant missing.

A shipment rerouted with no trace–possibly intercepted.

“The warehouse team’s spooked. We’ve got guards doubled up but morale’s dipping. They want to know if retaliation is coming,” Dom said, jaw tight,

“It is,” Enzo muttered. “But not yet.”

He tapped a finger on the console. A warning. A promise.

Then his phone buzzed.

Lola: 9:56 AM

Photo: Lola in his black shirt and nothing else visible but toned legs and a peek of thigh. Hair messy to one side. Glasses on. Smiling like a menace.

Lola: “Working hard or hardly working, big guy?”

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Chapter 52

Enzo’s breath hitched. He immediately saved it as his background. Locked the phone. Unlocked it again just to look.

Enzo: “New favorite distraction. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Marco muttered. “Was it a gun shipment or a girlfriend selfie?”

“Girlfriend,” Gino said confidently. “Hopefully doing something hot.”

“Shut the hell up,” Enzo muttered, but he didn’t deny it.

By 11:00, Enzo was in a sit–down with two smaller casino bosses asking for extensions on their protection payments. One of them brought up the woman he’d seen with Enzo at Treasures the night before.

“She’s got a smart mouth,” the man grumbled.

Enzo didn’t blink. “And I’ve got a short fuse. Be careful where you point your opinions.”

The room went still.

He smiled–pleasant, unreadable. “Glad we understand each other.”

Lola: 11:34 AM

Lola: “I made Nico watch Bones. He keeps pausing to correct the crime scene procedures. It’s incredible.”

Enzo: “Poor bastard.”

Lola: “He says the show is unrealistic but refuses to leave. So who’s the real clown here?”

Enzo: “You’re corrupting my men.”

Lola: “Tempting them away one forensic error at a time.”

“Why is Nico texting about bones?” Marco muttered, staring at his own phone mid–meeting.

Gino looked up. “Because your girl’s got charm. And ass. Both lethal.”

Dom sighed. “She’ll have us all wrapped around her finger by Friday.”

“She already does,” Enzo said under his breath,

By 1:00 PM, they were gathered in the private dining room–rare downtime.

Gino tossed a grape into the air and missed. “So when are you telling her she’s not just your fiancée?”

Marco arched a brow. “You mean the part where she’s basically the Queen of the Strip now?”

Enzo stabbed a piece of steak. “She’s not ready for that.”

Dom folded his arms. “Are you?”

That earned him a glare.

“She makes him soft,” Gino said with a grin,

*She makes me dangerous,” Enzo corrected. “There’s a difference.”

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Chapter 52

Lola: 2:47 PM

Lola: “Send me a picture, boss man. I ‘m starting to forget what you look like..”

Enzo didn’t hesitate.

A photo from his lap upward, hand angled like it was curled around a throat. Suit sleeve sharp. Power radiating.

Lola: “Sir, this is a Wendy’s.”

Lola: Is this a threat or a proposal?

Because I just tried to lick my phone.

Get home. Immediately.”

He smirked.

Enzo: “Mmm, both.”

By 3:30, he was face–to–face with the twins–identical ex–enforcers turned intel specialists. They were already seated, surrounded by monitors.

“Shipment rerouted, not by accident,” one of them said. “Someone forged your authorization code.”

Something was brewing.

And it wasn’t just the Bellandi family anymore.

The warehouse smelled like metal, fuel, and nerves. Workers straightened as he passed. He nodded to the shift leader but said nothing until they reached the dock.

“Four crates missing. The manifest was signed, but no footage. Cameras looped,” the man explained.

Enzo narrowed his eyes. “Find me who was on security. Then check their bank accounts.”

Someone was poking the lion.

They were about to learn what it meant to bleed for it.

Lola: 5:17 PM

Lola: “Still alive or buried in bodies?”

Enzo: “Still alive. Still yours.”

Lola: Good. There’s leftover pasta in the fridge. That counts as dinner. You’re not allowed to die until you eat it.

Enzo: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Lola: “Also, Nico says you’re being dramatic.”

3/4

bysitting. I’ve got work tonight.”

message for a beat longer than necessary. Then typed:

home soon.

ator chimed.

Inza stepped into the penthouse with a quiet exhale–bone–deep tired but wired from the day. Meetings, reports, threats, strategy. And underneath it all, a persistent thread of distraction shaped like one chaos–wrapped tattoo artist with a dangerous mouth and perfect fucking legs.

The scent of citrus and brown sugar hit him first. Then came the sound–Lola’s voice mid–argument, loud and offended.

“Ben definitely gave them the money!” she snapped.

Enzo’s brows lifted.

He rounded the corner, and the image that greeted him hit like a gut punch.

Lola. Curled sideways on the couch in his shirt–his white button–down, sleeves rolled sloppily, hem bunched up around her thighs. Her bare legs stretched across Nico’s lap, one toe painted black and tapping against his hip.

Nico looked… haunted.

*I’m just saying,” Nico said, voice strained, “nobody would actually solve a math question that fast under pressure. That’s not how the brain works, Lola.”

“You sound like a man who’s never been in a lightning round.*

“Oh my god,” Nico muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Enzo crossed his arms. “Am I interrupting something?”

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