Chapter 414

Nina

By the time Enzo and I pulled ourselves away from our embrace, the clock read past four o’clock. I was beginning to feel restless, but Enzo was fast asleep. We had both dozed off yet again, although Enzo was more deep in sleep than I was.

With a gentle sigh, I carefully extricated myself from Enzo, my fingers trailing lightly over his arm as I did so. He stirred, his eyelids fluttering before he let out a contented sigh and settled back into sleep.

I couldn’t help but smirk as I watched him sleep. He clearly needed it, and I wasn’t going to wake him up.

But then my eyes caught it; the mark on his wrist. It was almost fully healed by now, but I could just barely make out the faint line where the bruise had been before. It wasn’t so much the fact that he had the mark, it was the way he reacted when I pointed it out.

It wasn’t like Enzo to flinch away when it came to injuries. Under normal circumstances, he likely could have pulled up his sleeve to have me look at it. He often liked to do things like that, joking that it was my job as his personal doctor—and often resulted in a smack from me and a lot of laughter.

But this was different. Something about Enzo’s reaction when I had initially pointed the bruise out made me wonder if there was something he wasn’t telling me.

A fight, maybe? A moment of clumsiness? Maybe he was just embarrassed.

Either way, I decided to let my worries go for now and get dressed. I pulled a comfortable dress out of my closet and slipped it on, followed by a pair of slip-ons. It was just a casual dinner at home; there was no need to get dressed up.

As an afterthought, though, I slipped one of the talismans Elara had given me around my neck, concealing it underneath my dress. Just in case.

Downstairs, the delicious aroma of simmering spices and herbs wafted through the house, pulling me closer to the kitchen. My parents’ voices carried through the air, and I could hear them laughing, their cheerful banter filling the room.

As I entered the kitchen, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight that greeted me.

My dad was donned in an apron that read “King of the Kitchen.” Flour dusted his nose, and there was a hint of sauce smeared on his cheek. He stood over a pot of bubbling sauce, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stirred vigorously.

My mother, equally amused, was perched on a stool by the kitchen island, a glass of wine in hand and a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Looks like someone has taken over the kitchen,” I quipped, leaning against the doorframe.

My father turned, a look of mock seriousness on his face. “Ah, Nina, you’ve arrived just in time to witness my culinary masterpiece. Tonight, I am the chef.”

My mother snorted with laughter, nearly spilling her wine. “I tried to tell him that he didn’t need to cook, but he insisted on doing it himself tonight,” she laughed.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. My dad usually left the cooking to the servants, but something had begun to shift recently. I think my mother had an influence on him; she was rarely the type to let someone else do everything for her. Maybe she had finally convinced him that he didn’t need someone else cooking his meals every single day.

With a flourish, my father presented a spoonful of sauce for me to taste. I obliged, taking a small taste. My eyes widened slightly as the flavors hit my tongue.

“Bravo, dad,” I said. “Who knew you could cook?”

“Oh, please,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ve always been a secret gourmand. After all, your sister…”

At the mention of Selena, the kitchen fell silent. I could see my father’s expression twist slightly, and he quickly turned his back. He was pretending to check on the chicken in the oven, but I knew that he was just trying to keep himself from crying.

I opened my mouth to say something, but then my mother quickly shook her head and shot me a look. I sighed, relenting. It was a sensitive subject, after all, and maybe today wasn’t the best day to have a discussion about my dead twin.

As the evening wore on, Enzo eventually emerged and we all pitched in to prepare the rest of the meal. Despite the initial chaos, dinner preparations went surprisingly smoothly. Before I knew it, the table was laden with fragrant food, flickering candles, and various wines.

“Sparkling juice for you,” my mother said, handing me a glass with a wink. I took it gratefully and rolled my eyes.()

“Thanks, mom.”

“Man, it’s a good thing Nina is pregnant,” Enzo teased as he sat down beside me. “Finally, she has a good excuse not to be hitting the bottle all the time.”

“Hey!” I yelled, smacking his arm. “That’s not true! I barely drink!”

But Enzo just laughed. “Sure, and I barely play hockey.”

Eventually, once we were all sat down for dinner, the conversation flowed freely. We talked about anything and everything, and it was a nice change from the usual talk of doom and gloom.

But then, midway through the meal, my father finally broached the subject that had been lingering in the air. “Nina, sweetheart,” he began cautiously, “when are you officially moving in with us?”

I exchanged a glance with Enzo, who offered a reassuring smile. It was a conversation we had been anticipating, but it still made me uneasy. I hated the idea of losing my independence, but I knew it was better for me to be here, just as I had promised.

“We only want to make sure you and the baby are well taken care of,” my mother added, her gaze filled with concern.

I nodded. “I know, guys. I’ll work out the details soon. I promise.”

With a smile, my father nodded and returned to his meal. But as I looked at Enzo, I couldn’t help but wonder when exactly I would be moving in.

“What do you think?” I asked. “You were going to start work early, weren’t you?”

Enzo’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of uncertainty crossing his features. I felt as though I had struck a nerve, and it instantly made me wonder what I had said that bothered him.

“Let’s discuss it later,” was all he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

Later that evening, as we returned to our bedroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss with Enzo. He had joked here and there, but he had still been unusually quiet throughout dinner, and it was making me worried.

“Enzo,” I began as he began to undress, “did I upset you earlier by bringing up work?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes avoiding mine as he slipped off his shirt. “No, not at all,” he said. “I’ve just been stressing about you and the baby. But I’m better now.”

I watched Enzo for a few moments as he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged his shoes off. There was something in his tone, something in his movements, that made me think that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. I could feel it.

And then it happened.

I reached out to him to touch his hand, and he flinched, his eyes widening ever so slightly. It caused me to recoil, and it instantly filled me with a sense of dread.

“Enzo,” I murmured cautiously, “what really happened with your wrist?”