My Life In Her Hands

ENZO MORETTI

I was standing outside Ethan’s room, watching Isa tell him good night.

The day had come to an end. Everything and everyone had turned out fine.

Isa and Ethan had dinner a while ago. Now Ethan was about to fall into a sound slumber.

Isa had spent the better part of her afternoon playing with her son.

I had decided that giving them some space would be the best thing for them.

I wanted Isa and Ethan to settle into my home. For them to be comfortable. But now, I couldn't help but miss her.

Isa kissed Ethan’s forehead and turned off the bedside lamp.

She was going to turn around soon and I still stood where I was.

Isa soon whirled around. The room was dark so I couldn't see her well but she paused and it was too obvious to miss.

Fear.

Isa was still scared of me.

That should have made me happy. Actually, that was the typical most fulfilling thing for Enzo Moretti.

But when it came to Isa, I was a different version of myself.

I wasn't the kingpin who terrorized gangs and slayed men who dared to cross me. I was a man in love. A man in need of his woman.

“How long have you been standing there?” Isa asked with caution.

She hesitated before walking out of the room and leaving the darkness behind.

“Not long enough to get you frightened.” I stepped back from the doorway.

Isa closed the door to Ethan’s room. She did it silently and carefully.

I studied her. She had spent a day in my home.

I expected the experience to soften the image she had of me.

I didn't want Isa thinking of me as a sinister drug and arms lord. I wanted her to see me as someone who wanted to be a part of her family.

I've not wanted to be part of anyone’s family since mine was wiped away in one night.

In cold blood.

The Martins family took me in but they always felt like an extension of my family.

We did the same businesses and lived the same lives.

Isa’s world was different from mine. I wanted–needed to experience that.

“You’re still scared of me,” I stated rather than asking.

All the evidence was there.

“What do you want from me, Enzo?” Isa pleaded.

I couldn't tell if it was the long day that was tiring her or my presence.

She had showered and changed into fresh clothes too.

A pink night robe that Suzanne, the head housekeeper, had gotten from the boutique.

It cost a fortune. All of the clothes I got for them cost a fortune and they deserved every bit of it.

“For you to not be scared of me,” I told her. “I have promised over and over again that I won't let a finger touch you or Ethan.”

I wanted to close the distance between her and kiss her again and again.

Isa crossed her hands and I wished we could go back to being at the safe house. There she could wear my oversized shirts and watch me cook dinner for her.

And maybe this time, Marco would never show up and interrupt us.

“If I didn’t follow you to your house, would you have let us go?” Isa challenged me with the question.

Her eyes burned through me, daring me to answer in a heartbeat.

“This was—”

Isa shook her head. She was not letting me finish.

“This is a yes or no question, Enzo.” Isa added, making it harder for me. “Would you have let us go?” She had pushed me into a mental corner easily.

“Oh, you know a yes or no won't be sufficient,” I let out, scrambling for a way to get to her. “That’s why you’ve made it difficult.”

“The only person that has made this difficult is you.” Isa paused and sniffed.

She wasn't crying.

Yet.

She was well on the brink of doing that. Of breaking down in front of me.

We were fine some hours ago. We seemed fine.

I guess I misread.

“I didn't force you to come here,” I said.

I knew there was a part lie in it. But more importantly, it held truth.

Isa continued to argue with me. “The only difference between what happened today and abduction is you didn't use force and that's because I knew better than to struggle.”

I almost pulled my hair. The veins on my face became visible.

“I’ve made sure that you are comfortable,” I tried to explain it to her. “I got clothes and toys and…”

I was at a loss for words but Isa wasn't. She unfolded her hands so she could wave them in the air when she said, “And I appreciate every single thing you’ve done. I do. But it doesn't change the fact that I had no other choice.”

She blinked and angrily wiped the fallen teardrop from her face. “It was either this or you punish me for trying to get away,” Isa continued. “So thank you for the clothes, thank you for this mansion. And thank you for keeping us alive. Right?”

She smiled a bitter smile. Her voice broke and I couldn't bear to look at her.

If anyone hurt Isa, they had to face my wrath.

I wasn't an exception to that rule.

Without thinking, I pulled out my pistol.

I took her hands and pushed the golden piece of metal to her.

She wanted to throw it away but I stopped her, pressing it into the palm of her hands.

“Here. That’s my firearm. I've had that gun since I was a kid. Since I took it from my dad’s safe.” I confessed to Isa, desperate to make her understand me. Even if it was just a little.

I left the gun in her hands. Isa stared at it like it was alien. But she wasn't trying to throw it away again.

Isa listened to me and her anger simmered away with time.

“I saw him take this everywhere,” I said, reliving the pain. “It was my most priced possession after he passed away. After my entire family was taken from me, this gun kept me safe. I trained with it, I've killed with it and I've been able to live. All thanks to this gun.” I pointed to the pistol in her hands, whispering harshly.

“So I’m giving this gun to you, Isabella Garcia So you can live too. I will teach you how to use it and you can feel safer in my home. In our home. You can feel safer knowing you have my life in your hands. There it is, my gun and my life I am handing to you now. It's all yours.”

Isabella’s mouth hung open.

I pushed my hair back and sweat lined my forehead.

I hated that night from twenty years ago because I was at the mercy of those intruders. My entire family was.

I was a little boy, scared to my bones!

Ever since I claimed dad’s pistol and learned how to shoot, I've felt safer.

And I hated to be that ten-year-old, frightened boy again.

But if it would make Isa feel more secure, then she could have my protection.

She could take my gun and my life.

All of me, in he her hands.