Enzo’s POV
At least, I told myself over the years that my shoulders never actually carried the weight of the world. Strength came easily; control seemed like an old friend I could depend on when all else failed. Still, it was unique in another respect. Something that crept under my notice and bothered me.
Sitting on the brink of my king-sized apartment's bed, I watched the whiskey glass in my palm spin with the smallest of finger gestures. Though all I could see in the city below was Isabella's face, the jumble of lights and shadows. My man. My beautiful yet quiet, rebellious wife is shy.
I reasoned she would behave like any other woman when I consented to this arrangement. Made sense. Terrorized. Bella showed none of this as a piece in the game of men. She was internally burning, and
