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Chloe
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I sip my latte I brought from home, as I read through the properties we’re going to visit today for the eighteenth time. My eyes flick up to the time on the dash: six minutes until eight. I push a button a few times until the soaring notes of Chopin become low background noise. With a deep breath I close the folder, slide it in between my seat and the console and put my car in drive. I’m right around the corner from the front of Enzo’s building, where I’ve been for almost twenty minutes. Driving is more of a pain in the ass than riding the El or bus; however, I spend my day going from one building or house to another so I need my car.
At the light I grab my air freshener and toss it into the glove box. I do my best to keep my car spotless, for my clients and resale. It’s a six-year-old silver Lexus bought pre-owned. I take no pride in it; as far as I’m concerned it’s a business tool. Clients responded well to it, so I figure it’s worth it.
I slide in front of the building, scanning the sidewalk, refusing to check my makeup again. I’m not proud of how long it took me to do my makeup while trying for the bare-faced look, although I gave in to a lipstick in burgundy. It’s two minutes until eight. I fiddle with my long gold necklace with a round diamond circled in gold, a Christmas gift from Nonna. Looking down, I brush nonexistent lint from my dress, the black one Lydia picked out. My hair is long, loose, straight, and I’m dying to run my hand through it even though it doesn’t need it.
The door opens. For a large man Enzo moves fluidly, silently into the car. He takes up the entire car, close, he’s so close. Oh lord, the scent of him floods my senses, leather, rain, and something completely Enzo. Even sitting my knees are weak, air is trapped in my lungs, fighting to get out yet unwilling to exhale him. Those black eyes meet mine, fire hot, bright and I’m melting at the apex of my thighs for him.
His phone pings with a text. The phone in his hand, he sighs as he checks the display. Shaking his head, he looks to me. “Are we going?”
The words are a taunt. Taking a deep breath, I welcome his dickish behavior, all the better to freeze up the crazy heat he causes. I don’t bother responding, simply putting the car into gear. Less than two miles away on Dearborn, we turn and thankfully there are several empty spots to park across the street.
“I said no condos.” The harsh words are loud in the quiet of the car.
Annoyed, I work to keep my tone light. “We aren’t going into a condo. We’re going there.” I point at the large brown, stone building. “Thirteen thousand square feet, six bedrooms, six and a half bathrooms, built in 1888. While there have been several updates many original details remain, stained-glass windows, woodwork, hardwood all original throughout.”
He shakes his head. “No, it abuts another building, and there’s no privacy. Next.”
I’m not surprised, not really; doesn’t mean I don’t want to smack him hard across his gorgeous face. I nod, pull out the folder and cross two homes off my already small list. Damn it.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, since you don’t like this one I’m going to guess you don’t want a house that is next door to a Catholic church.” He shakes his head. “I’m also crossing off another on Lakeshore Drive where the door opens onto the sidewalk without any front yard.” He shakes his head again. “Okay, that leaves us with three houses.”
“I said to have five for me to see.” Annoyance flares across his stupid beautiful face.
“I did have five for you to see. You don’t want to see them. I can turn around if you want.”
His black eyes flash hot. “I told you what I wanted. If I said I wanted space around me, why would you pick a home where the house is right against another?”
“Because it’s on one damn side. It’s also a big damn lot, it would have taken a pool, not a huge but one would have fit. You didn’t say anything about privacy, you said room. The house by the church has privacy, but it is right next to a busy over-a-hundred-year-old church. And I’m not an idiot. I have other homes; they aren’t for sale though, so the price will be for the seller to call. I have four of those.”
He doesn’t say anything. At a light I chance a glance. “I’m glad you aren’t wasting my time today after all.”
I roll my eyes. “This is my time too.”
It’s a relief he’s quiet until we’re almost to the next house. “We are turning past Ashland.” He raps the words out until they sting.
“Three blocks, three damn blocks. The house is worth it, there’s a park, a huge backyard, on a corner lot. This is a quiet neighborhood and only a few blocks away you’re in the thick of everything. You gave me a damn ten-mile-by-four-mile radius; if you don’t make even a small allowance then let’s just call it a fucking day and I’ll take you home now.”
He doesn’t say a word. I take his silence for agreement.
I park in the driveway. “This home is ten thousand square feet. There are five bedrooms with three of the bedrooms en-suite, eight bathrooms total. There is an indoor basketball half court. Three fireplaces, hardwood floors. As you can see there is enough parking for Dante, Cesare, and several more guests, including a three-car heated garage for Chicago winters.”
It’s hard not to sigh with relief when he follows me out of the car. Keying in the code for the small box to unlock the house, I step inside and hold the door open. God, he’s huge. He’s in a steel gray silk suit cut to perfection, a pale blue shirt highlights his deep olive skin, his silk tie is a dove gray. “Marble entry, half bath.” I gesture to the large living room. “A formal living room, there’s another family room off the kitchen.”
“When was it built?”
“2005, newer with classic design though, as you can see. With the chair rails, the staircase—"
“What’s that?”
“An elevator, there are four levels in the house.” His mouth quirks up. It can’t be called a smile, not really, all at once I’m desperate to see him smile.
“Bethany would love this place. She loves the elevator in Che and Alicia’s place.”
“If you don’t like this place, I’ll make sure to put this on their list. This kitchen is gorgeous, the stove is amazing. Dante mentioned all of you were taught to cook and do it often. This island is a great place to spend the afternoon making pasta, a marble countertop will make it easy.”
He shrugs. “Keeping marble clean is a pain in the ass.” He walks toward the French doors. His eyes are on the park behind the house.
“You can put up trees for privacy, this backyard will fit a pool, with plenty of room. The lot is six thousand two fifty.”
“Price?”
“Four million two fifty, they are at market. It’s priced to sell.”
His eyes roam the backyard. Without another word he goes back inside. “You said four levels?”
“Yes, the next level has the master bedroom, another bedroom, an office with a terrace off of it.” I work to keep up with his long legs. “This bathroom is amazing, the bathtub—”
“Is too small.” I bite my tongue. He hates it. The next ten minutes pass in agony, his frown deepening with every step.
As we walk out of the house, he shakes his head. “No.”
Forcing a deep breath, I simply nod. “On to the next one.”
I double back to Lincoln Park. When we pull in front of the home I keep one eye on Enzo. He’s frowning and shaking his head. “You don’t even want to go in? It’s eighty-two-hundred square feet, six bedrooms, five and a half baths, built in 1989—”
“No, this street is off the main but it’s still busy, there’s no parking.” He shakes his head.
I sigh but don’t bother arguing. “Fine, hold on, let me make sure he’s okay with us going by this early. I didn’t think we would go through almost all of the properties in less than an hour.” I text the owner and wait.
“The next one isn’t for sale?”
Shaking my head, I keep my eyes on my phone. “Nope, but it could be. His response to my question was make him an offer.” The answer comes through. “Got the go-ahead, they have a housekeeper who will let us in. This was sold last year for eleven nine. I sold it. It’s a beautiful property with a huge lot with plenty of room for a pool.”
I ring the doorbell, and within seconds the door is open. A pretty older Hispanic woman opens the door. “Hello, Mr. Chang, he told me you are coming. Every room is open to you. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Thank you.” She nods as she quietly leaves us in the foyer. “This home is eight thousand square feet. There are six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, and it was built in 2013. As you can see it’s classic in design, a lot of hardwood, chair rails, crown molding, and everything was done with attention to detail. These hardwoods are wide plank oak.”
Enzo follows me, his eyes touching on everything, missing nothing. No frown until we get to the kitchen. “I don’t like all the wood. It feels heavy in here even with the white cabinets.”
As I look around, I nod in agreement. “The fronts could be redone, it wouldn’t be cheap but—”
“You said it sold for eleven nine, and it’s only eight thousand square feet.”
“It did sell above market. Market in most areas of the city varies from three hundred to right under five hundred per square feet. Some of the homes in this area of Lincoln Park can go as high as eight hundred. Anything more is over market. But this has everything you asked for, you won’t have to buy any other houses to get what you want. This is on three city lots, that’s where the price is coming from.” I turn, gesturing. “The kitchen opens to the family room, then out onto the back.” I open the huge arched doors then step out onto the terrace. “You have a fourteen-foot deck and enough room for a pool.”
He goes down the stairs, I can’t keep my eyes off him. Please let him buy today. It’s so fucking annoying I want to deck him, and at the same time find out if his lips are as soft as they look.
Before I can get it together he’s back in front of me. A small nod, barely perceptible. “Are all six bedrooms on one level?”
Shaking my head, I go inside. “There is a third level, a lower level has two of the bedrooms and two bathrooms. There’s a recreation area downstairs as well. The master bathroom, double sinks, and this bathtub, is it big enough?”
Those soft lips purse. “It is, but it’s a soaking tub, not a jetted tub. I’d have to replace it.” He opens the glass door of the shower. “Steam shower?”
“Yes, the control is there.”
Another nod, and I fight not to squeal in happiness. I’m so good.
Tour over, I thank the housekeeper, then go outside where Enzo is leaning against my car deep in thought. “Okay, two more properties to go.”
A glance at my watch; it’s a little after nine thirty. Enzo took his time, taking everything in as we walked through the house. Unlike the first house, when I felt his eyes on me almost the entire time. The drive to the next house is quick without traffic.
His black eyes glisten with interest as we pull into the driveaway. I allow a small smile. “This place is priced to sell at below market. It’s only two point six million. As you might already be able to tell, it’s on five and a half lots. And it’s made use of every inch, there are six bedrooms and six bathrooms within twelve thousand square feet. Built in 1913 it’s designed by Maher. A few of the homes are in a three-block radius, and they are all Prairie style. Of course there are updates but many of the details remain, like this door. All of the wood is original.” I allow my hand to run over the rich wood along the stairs.
A corner of his lips tips up. “Putting an elevator in here would be a tragedy. You’ve been in here before.”
I nod. “A few times for the clients who say they want a large home, but what they really mean is a big condo in a steel and glass building. It never fails to make me sad. This is a real working fireplace, this hearth is gorgeous, those original glass doors; how can you not appreciate how beautiful this place is?” I point out the doors leading into the library. “Everything comes with it, the grand piano, the leather sofas, it’s all included.”
We head into the kitchen. “The kitchen was updated recently with restaurant-quality appliances.”
A frown appears as he looks around. “It’s not nearly wide enough. There isn’t the counterspace a kitchen this large needs. Why isn’t there a pantry in here? I would gut this and start over completely.”
It’s annoying when he’s right. “You’re right, it doesn’t match the rest of the house. They doubled down on wood in here, but it’s too light and the countertops look cheap. Redoing this and making it what you want won’t cost you much but a little bit of time.”
A dark eyebrow goes up as he looks at me. “And you would know about redoing a kitchen?”
I bristle. “I do. I’ve done two kitchen remodels. The two flat I purchased was a mess. I put up cabinets, did the backsplash, and painted myself. I also had to put in a new subfloor and laid hardwood without any help.”
A nod, I’m pretty sure the asshole is trying not to laugh. “My apologies, you don’t look like you would be one to get dirty. I stand corrected. I’ve done a little more than two, however, and this would take some time and quite a bit of money to get right. What would you do?”
Remembering what he said about the size of the kitchen, I see what he means even though it wasn’t my first thought. “I would blow out that wall. The problem will be it’s no doubt a load-bearing wall. The beam would run anywhere from five to eight grand easy. But once it’s done it will flow smoothly, making it one big kitchen, dining, and living area. You’ll be able to put in the island the space is screaming for, and even though the appliances in here cost somewhere around ten grand, they don’t look right in the space.”
Looking around, I sigh. It’s not a bad kitchen, it simply doesn’t fit the home. I feel Enzo’s eyes on me, and I chance a glance up at him. He’s leaning against the counter those black eyes are endless; I can’t look away. “Why do you want a home like this if it’s just you? Are you going to get married again?”
The moment the words are out I want to call them back. What the hell is the matter with me? Why is it getting harder and harder to breathe the longer he takes to answer the question? He shrugs. “I have no plans to marry again. I’m not sure really.” I can’t believe it. Enzo Sabatini not knowing exactly why he is doing something doesn’t seem like him at all. “I just know I want out of where I am, and I don’t want to go back to something like it again. A yard with grass, the ability to open a window are all appealing right now. Even the things I once thought I wanted, a doorman, the security...all that makes me feel claustrophobic, as if the walls are closing in.”
He straightens, tense, as though he said more than he intended. “I felt the same way growing up. It didn’t make any sense, because at first I was grateful just to have my own bed, let alone an entire room all to myself. But it was the fourth floor in a six-story building and even though we had the whole floor, I always felt closed in. There were buildings on two sides of us, close enough to touch. As soon as I got to Chicago and saw all the houses around the city, I knew I would do whatever it took to live in one as soon as possible.”
“When did you buy your mess of a two flat?” He’s not quite as tense anymore; his mouth is soft again.
“Five years ago. I saved every spare penny, lived like a broke college student long after I was one and worked a second job as a translator for a small publishing house to do it.”
His eyebrows go up. “A broke college student? Neither your grandmother or mother helped you?”
I’m not really surprised he knows about my family and thought since Nonna was a comfortable millionaire with her buying and selling of real estate in Milan, some of that wealth would trickle down to me. Dante was upfront about the employees in the firm having a background check done by a security firm that could find out blood type and favorite color. The only problem was, Nonna spent hundreds of thousands on my mother’s medical treatments and now while still comfortable, she’s no longer a millionaire.
“No, when I left Italy I took two suitcases and not much else. Although I did take the jewelry Nonna and my mother had bought me, eventually I sold it all to live.” Even now I wince with regret at selling the jewelry. “I was daring to defy my mother; Nonna wasn’t happy with me either. They both felt me wanting to meet my father was a betrayal. I was discounting everything my mother endured. How could I want to see the father who abandoned us? He only married my mother to become a citizen, then left her the moment his approval came in the mail.” I roll my eyes. “All I wanted to do was talk to the man, just once, to see what he looked like, find out what his voice sounded like. I was curious.”
His eyes soften as he nods in understanding. “One conversation, one simple meeting, was all I wanted. They said if I got on the plane then don’t come back. My mother was so controlling, it was honestly a relief. Once I landed and realized I was totally on my own things, got scary fast. Okay, meeting my dad was as completely awful as they warned me it would be, but it was my horrible experience to have. I also got lucky. One of my father’s students heard the entire awful five-minute exchange; she put her arm around me and let me cry on her shoulder. Then she took me home and let me stay with her while I found a job.”
“Dante said you still visit Milan every Christmas. Your mother changed her mind?”
I shake my head as I remember. “No, Nonna did. I was always closer to Nonna. Nonna took care of me while my mother worked. She taught me Italian. We were both readers, both unwilling to give in to what the world said we were supposed to be. I missed her, and it hurt when she agreed with my mother. When I graduated I was shocked to find Nonna in the crowd. She asked me to come back home with her. I said no. I loved Chicago by then and I wasn’t going back; for me, Chicago was my home. While I loved Milan, still do, it never really felt like home. Although Nonna wasn’t happy, she understood as long as I promised to visit at Christmas. I’m grateful for her talking me into it, it was the last Christmas before my mother got sick.”
“Family. Sometimes they’re a good thing, sometimes they’re a pain in the ass. Your mother passed from cancer.”
“Yeah, cervical cancer. It happened fast, from the time she was diagnosed to when she passed was barely a year. My grandmother tried taking her to Switzerland to some of the best clinics there, but it was too far along.” I remember the last hectic year, wondering if I should be there, my mother assuring me she was fine to stay in Chicago during our weekly phone calls. Nonna never said a word of how bad it was until the very end. The rush from Chicago to Milan, and only three days later my mother was gone. How all the funeral arrangements were made already, how the next few days passed in a blur until I got on the plane to come home, then cried the whole way.
“I’m sorry.”
The sincerity in his eyes is almost painful. I remember how young he was when he lost his mother, only sixteen. I want to ask him about it but don’t dare. “I’m just grateful we had those last two years. Before them we weren’t close. She was still bitter about a lot of things. I guess her knowing what was coming, she could finally let it all go.”
“It isn’t easy to let go of the past.” Enzo smiles, and a dimple flashes at me in his left cheek. My knees go weak and holy shit, a beehive gets kicked over in my tummy as my skin goes tight and hot. “Did you learn to swing a hammer from your Nonna?”
My tongue isn’t easily unglued from the roof of my mouth. “No, by the time I arrived in Milan Nonna had a team of men working for her who fixed up the properties she purchased. She would take me with her when she checked on the progress, joking I was going to be their next boss. While I was there the men would show me what they were doing and how to do it.”
“Are you really never going back? You don’t want to take over from your Nonna?”
“I’ve now lived in Chicago longer than I lived in Milan. Like I said, I loved it, but it was never home. Nonna sold all but two small properties to pay for my mother’s medical care. From what was left she made a payment to my school loans as a way of giving me some of my inheritance early, and saying sorry she never helped me pay for school like she promised when I was young. It was great, I was able to pay off the rest in only a year, which enabled me to save toward...” I feel silly admitting my small goal to Enzo. “My goals.”
“What are you working toward? What’s your brass ring?” It’s an invitation, the question solemn.
“I want to own my own multifamily property. At least eight units, but as many as fifteen would be nice. Enough for me to manage all on my own, with the help of a maintenance man, of course. A property that enables me to be my own boss. Hopefully, in time, a second property.”
“Real estate runs in your blood, hmm? It could be worse, it could be alcoholism.”
Both of us laughing. our eyes meet. All at once the moment is too intimate, too close. He’s not telling me my dreams are stupid, that they aren’t achievable. Pushing away from the counter, I shrug as I tear my eyes off him. “Through here is the mudroom. One door leads to the garage, another to the backyard.”
Enzo follows me outside onto the wide deck. “There’s no room for a pool.”
“No, the place next door isn’t for sale but the owner is open to an offer. As you can see you have a wide corner lot. If you bought the place next door you would still spend less than ten million easily.”
His answer is to go back inside. He likes the house. Behind him on the stairs, I’m in perfect line with his insanely hot ass. Stop it. It’s one day—all I have is today, tomorrow this will all be a dream. Would it really be so bad to savor the moment? Through the three bedrooms, he’s quiet as his eyes roam around each room. Once we get to the master bedroom, he leans against the open door to the bathroom.
He’s quiet for so long I feel the need to fill the silence. “The bathtub is definitely a soaker tub. If a bit odd to have it in the center of the room.” An eyebrow goes up. “You would want to gut this, wouldn’t you?”
A small smile sends heat up my tummy. I could easily become addicted to those smiles, to that dimple. “Yes. The whole layout doesn’t work. The bathroom and the kitchen, those guest bathrooms are barely passable. Redoing all the bathrooms and the kitchen, are why this place is below market. It’s going to get expensive and time-consuming. What does the lower level basement look like? “Inwardly I groan as I remember how much work it needs. It’s huge, but it could easily run twenty to thirty grand to do it right. We go through the basement at a quicker clip, he isn’t happy.
Once we’re out of the house I keep walking past my car. “Where are you going?”
“Walk with me, it’s not far to the next house.” I continue walking, not concerned in the slightest he won’t follow. It’s only a block away, within a few feet, he’s by my side.
“Smug doesn’t suit you,” he mutters, his hands in his pockets.
I don’t try to hide my smile. “Petulance doesn’t suit you.”
His bark of laughter stops me dead in my tracks. Oh god, he’s stunning. It doesn’t matter the laughter sounds rusty. The air has been stolen from my entire body in a gasp of shock at the transformation in him. As huge as he is, wide, tall, a wall of muscle, he’s suddenly no longer as imposing, intimidating. The laughter dies as his eyes meet mine and hold. Then he blinks and looks away. “How much farther?”
I hate it takes me longer to shake off what happened. What did happen? Catching up takes another minute, his long legs eat up the sidewalk. “At the end of the next block. Do you see the gray house on the corner?” He nods. We continue in silence until we’re at the gate.
“It’s the same architect.”
Even though it’s not a question, I nod. “Maher. This is on six lots. Here there is only ten thousand square feet, but you won’t miss it. The backyard has room for a pool and a yard. This isn’t priced to sell, but it’s completely reasonable at three nine nine five. There are five bedrooms, four on one floor, seven bathrooms. A master suite was created from the servants’ quarters, as none of the other rooms have a bathroom connected. Built in 1902 although it’s updated many original details remain as you can see in features like this door and the stained glass. The fireplace surrounds, wood around the doors, the hardwood in all but a few of the rooms are all original.” I run my hand over the grand piano in the foyer. “Another piano, it comes with the house if you want. Everything in the house stays. Those doors leading to the library are also original. They had to replace the inlaid glass, but the stained glass at the top was salvaged from another door here in the home.”
We step out onto the sunroom, and he frowns. “This floor is awful, I would want it gone. It ruins the whole room.”
“While you’re doing it you could put in radiant heated floors so you can use the room even in the winter.”
I’m rewarded with a half smile. “You have all the answers.”
I shrug. “The bones of this house are stunning. It’s not bad now, but maybe the owners didn’t have the money needed to make the changes that would take it from good to stunning. You have the money, you even have the knowledge from past flips you did with Cesare and Dante. Done right, this could go on the cover of Architecture Digest.”
“You’ve showed this more than a few times?”
Anger flares at his amusement, at the morons I’ve shown this place to who didn’t appreciate how beautiful the home is. “The changes aren’t big, and the payoff would be huge. I don’t understand why people can’t see that. This home is beautiful, a home to be passed down from one generation to the next. All they want is the same damn cookie-cutter houses with boring gray walls and granite and stainless steel appliances they don’t even use.” Oh, it came out a little more harshly than I intended. Enzo is smiling, his dimple flashing at me. “I just—I don’t get it. Anyway, as you can see there are the same details, wood around the doors here, chair rails, and crown molding. There are eight wood-burning fireplaces in this home.”
Another frown. “Everything is brown. Combined with the wood in here already, it weighs down these rooms. And the surround on the fireplace is bland.”
“Those are simple fixes. Don’t you dare touch the surround, it’s original. If you want to add depth you could update the mantel or do something with the space above the mantel.” I huff, annoyed at him for concentrating on things like the color on the walls. “It’s a way of making this home your own.”
An eyebrow goes up. “Those ‘simple’ fixes will add up.” Then we walk into the kitchen and he sighs. “This is no simple fix.” Shaking his head. “I’m beginning to understand why it’s been on the market for so long. There is a lot of work to be done and none of it will be cheap.”
He’s not seeing it. I’m disappointed, so I do the only thing I can do. I open the door out to the backyard. It takes a few minutes for him to follow me. When he steps outside he takes in a deep breath; it slides out of him in a sigh. “You have privacy all the way around you. You’re on the corner, nothing behind you. To one side of you mature trees and bushes screen you from prying eyes. There is room for a pool and it’s still a yard where kids can play and kick or throw around a ball. This is a quiet neighborhood and street, you have a driveway and parking on the street. The lake is a five-minute walk that way, coffee shops, restaurants and a Jewel are a five-minute walk in the other direction.”
A small nod. “What does the upstairs look like?”
As we walk the second floor he’s quiet. All of the bathrooms need updates. At least the en suite off the master is large enough for all the things he wants in it. There aren’t any more frowns until we get to the basement. It needs almost as much work as the other house. Once we exit the house, I fight to keep from staring at him, wondering what he’s thinking. We walk back to my car without him saying a word. He opens the door for me, and again I’m reminded the Sabatinis are a different breed from the men I’m used to. All the more reason to stay far away from him.
“I have a lot to think about. I’ll call you.” Then he walks away.
I’m sitting stunned. What? He moves fast, yet he’s in no hurry; his hands are in his pockets again, his head up scanning the view in front of him as he walks. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, so I go home.