Let Me Love You
Brittney Sahin
PROLOGUE
Maria
Six Years Ago—New York City
“Why aren’t they hanging out with us? I thought we were here to celebrate?” I tipped my chin toward the bar, and my sister swiveled on her seat to put eyes on our “bodyguard” and his brothers.
We were sitting at a table inside a nautical-themed bar in Greenwich Village, not too far from where she lived, celebrating my twenty-third birthday.
“I think they’re trying to be polite and give us time to chat. This is just our warm-up spot.” Natalia turned back to face me while fidgeting with the neckline of her black dress, attempting to hide her cleavage.
“So we’re pregaming, huh?” I snatched my espresso martini, ready to take my first sip of the night.
“Something like that.” Natalia smiled. “You did fly up here for your birthday, so I want to make sure you enjoy yourself.”
“I owe Enzo a huge thank-you for surprising me with a plane ticket.”
“He knew how much I missed you.”
And here I was hoping he secretly wanted to see me. I almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous idea as my eyes landed on Enzo, our so-called bodyguard for the evening.
I hadn’t expected to find him looking at me, and I nearly spilled my drink. My free hand slid up the column of my throat as I counted backward, giving myself three more Mississippi seconds to look at Enzo before focusing on my sister.
“Maria, Maria.”
Thank God for the shitty lighting so she couldn’t spot the stain of embarrassment on my cheeks. Of course, she’d already read me, her lips twitching with mild amusement. It was her I-caught-your-hand-in-the-cookie-jar type of smile, one she used whenever she knew I was daydreaming. Or in “la-la land,” as our mother called it.
“What?” I nervously giggled, casually trying to downplay that I’d been caught lusting over one of the Costa brothers.
When my sister had moved to New York, our parents had reached out to the Costa family, their longtime friends, and asked them to keep an eye on her. Out of the three Costa sons, Enzo had the privilege of being assigned to play the dutiful role of bodyguard on nights like these. She and Enzo had become close friends, practically like family, these last few years, too.
“We may not live near each other right now, but that doesn’t mean I forgot your poker face,” Natalia teased.
I set down my drink, threading my fingers together on my lap before I spilled both the martini and my naughty thoughts about Enzo. “Speaking of the whole not-living-near-each-other thing . . . I really can’t wait for you to come home.”
We grew up in a small town outside Charlotte, and while I could see the appeal of New York, I knew I’d never survive more than a week in such a big city; otherwise, I’d probably have moved with her.
“One or two more years, then I’ll be back. It’s been an experience, that’s for sure. Busting my ass working at two restaurants and a bar learning the ropes, all so I—”
“Can open your own place back home,” I finished for her, hoping I hadn’t made her feel guilty for being away. “I know. I’m sorry. And I’m super excited for you. You’ve known what you wanted to do since you were ten. And here I am at twenty-three and still clueless.”
“You don’t need to rush.”
“Yeah, I kind of do.” My English degree wasn’t doing much for me in the workplace. And the extra student-loan debt was now heavy on my shoulders.
“Well, you’ll figure out your thing, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m working three jobs that barely pay minimum wage to afford my student loans and avoid living with Mom and Dad. All I really care about is reading, and I don’t think ‘professional reader’ is a thing.”
“Or is it?” Natalia smirked. “You never know. I mean, you do change your personality based on whatever book you’re reading like it’s a job.”
“I do not.” I laughed. Okay, not totally. I was more like an empty vessel of nothingness, and books filled me up in ways nothing else seemed to.
Taking another sip to try and dull the worries still fluttering around in my head, I felt the liquid go down the wrong pipe, and I smacked my chest while coughing. Real smooth, Maria.
When I set the glass down, I felt him watching me. I chanced a look in Enzo’s direction and was met with his concerned gaze.
Enzo mouthed, “You okay?”
How’d he hear me coughing over the loud Bon Jovi song playing? The man really was great at watching over us.
“Good,” I mouthed back with a slight nod.
“Oh no.” Natalia’s knees bumped mine from under the table. “You’re doing it again. Making googly eyes with one of the Costa brothers.”
“And if I was?” I arched a brow, eyes back on my overprotective sister.
It’d been seven years since I’d seen anyone in the Costa family. The last time I’d been in New York was for a funeral. Not the greatest memory.
“You came out of your shell at dinner last night at the Costas’ house. Flirty. Funny. Living in the moment. I loved it.” She was stalling. Why? “But redirect that sexy energy elsewhere. You don’t know the brothers like I do. Before I moved here, we only saw them a handful of times, and we were younger. And now, well, just trust me when I say you should consider them off-limits.”
But out of all the Costa brothers, only one managed to inspire a sonnet of sexy prose to echo through my head like a chorus tonight. A soft hum of pleas to walk straight up to him, fist his shirt, and pull him down for a kiss in front of a room of strangers. The perfect hot birthday kiss.
I thought back to last night and how Enzo had sent his parents’ chef home for the evening and put his culinary skills to use. Watching him cook had been nearly as gratifying as eating his food.
Enzo had seemed different in the kitchen than the man in the expensive suit tonight. With his sleeves rolled up, faded denim jeans, and wearing a backward ball cap while he’d chopped veggies, he’d been warmer. Softer. More like the younger version of him I remembered from the few vacations we’d spent together as kids at their third home in the Hamptons.
Some of my best childhood memories were from their house at the beach. Splashing around in the chilly waters and building sandcastles.
Bianca Costa, Enzo’s twin sister, babysat us when our parents went out. She was an avid reader and the one who turned me into a fan of books.
And then . . . she was viciously murdered seven years ago at twenty-four, and it was a reminder of why the real world was awful.
I did my best to shuffle my thoughts around, hoping to place my head back in the present. “So, what’s their story now?”
“Bianca’s death changed them all in a way that . . .” What was it she didn’t want to say?
“I mean, of course something like that would change them.” I quietly sat with my thoughts for a moment, the tragedy of her death washing over me again.
Bianca had believed in happily-ever-afters. That fairy tales were possible. And she’d want her brothers to fall in love, I was sure of it.
“They’re heartbreakers, Maria. That’s the easiest way I can put it.”
I wasn’t looking for love tonight. “I just want a hot birthday kiss. Not a proposal.” And preferably from the youngest brother, Enzo.
Last night had been the first time I’d set eyes on him since Bianca’s funeral. And what a way to greet him—I’d tripped on a rug inside their fancy foyer and flew right into his muscular arms. He’d circled my waist, and my breasts had smashed against his hard chest.
After that, I began a list in my head of all the naughty things I wanted to do with him, or for him to do to me.
“A hot kiss, huh?” Natalia snatched her drink and took a big gulp, clearly hating the idea.