《Protettore.》Chapter 5.

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"Hey baby, I want to talk to you about something." Enzo's low tenor called out as he walked into the living room. I looked up from the book I had borrowed from a shelf in his office. Tank lifted his head slightly but deemed Mr. Enzo not interesting enough to hold his attention and laid his head back down on his paws.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked nervously. I didn't think I had done anything, but I've thought that before and had gotten punished anyways.

"No sweetheart. You're not in trouble." He promised. "I just wanted to talk about some things." I nodded at him in response, still a little apprehensive. He took a seat on the couch across from me.

"Have you thought about why I came to your uncle's house that day?" he questioned. His knee was bouncing, and his arms were crossed.

I thought about what to say for a moment. In fact, I had spent a good long time thinking about how this beautiful man had come to find me. I knew what pushed uncle to start selling my body. I knew he had gotten into money trouble with some dangerous people, and uncle had said some very important men were coming over that day. I confessed to Enzo what I had deduced, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"So, you knew I was mafia?" he asked in disbelief.

"I didn't know you were mafia specifically, but I knew you were scary enough for uncle to be afraid of you." I admitted quietly. I peek up at him through my lashes, expecting him to look angry that I had discovered his secret, but he was just staring at me pensively.

"You're not afraid of me." It wasn't a question. He knew I wasn't afraid of him, but I nodded anyways.

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"And here I was ready to make other living arrangements for you." He admitted, smiling to himself.

The thought of being away from Enzo sent a stab of panic through my heart, and I wrung my hands in my lap. The truth was, even though he was probably the most dangerous person I had ever encountered, I had never felt safer before. To me, he would only ever be the angel that extended his hand and pulled me straight from hell.

"I don't want to leave here." I muttered. I don't want to leave you. Not that I could tell him that.

"I don't want you to leave here baby girl." He patted his leg and I hesitantly went and sat in his lap. It has been a while since he brought me home, but I still wasn't used to his affectionate touches. Usually, any contact I had was full of hate and malice. He worked hard to help me get more comfortable by giving me small touches, like placing a guiding hand on the small of my back or tucking my hair behind my ear.

He tucked my head under his chin and held me gently. He had a way of making me feel wanted. I fidgeted with the sleeves of the sweater I was wearing. A few days into my stay here, Fiero and his fiancé, Rosie, had come by and she had brought me some clothes, shoes, and toiletries. Rosie's beautiful face broke out into a smile while I fussed over the cost of the things she brought me, and she promised that all of the clothes were hand-me-downs. I don't think I completely believed her though as I found tags on some of the garments.

"Do you want to do something fun with me today?" I looked up at him and his expression was lit up and his eyes full of excitement.

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"I'm not sure. That look in your eyes is making me nervous." I joked lightly with him, though it was half true. His smile just widened in response.

Tank leaped out of the back seat as soon as I opened the back door for him. I had driven us to the shooting range on my property. The air was crisp, and it was cold enough I could see my breath. It made me glad I had made my baby girl wear a jacket over her sweater, even though she had pouted at me adorably when I insisted.

Nora was so small she literally had to jump out of the SUV. The sight of her gaining her footing again warmed something inside of me. She came and met me at the back of the car, where I opened the trunk, revealing a small percentage of my gun collection. That being said, the back of the car was completely filled. Her innocence showed as he eyes went wide with wonder at the sight of them.

"Have you ever held a gun before?" I asked, but I was sure I already knew the answer. She proved me right by shaking her head. "Alright then, the first rule of gun safety is to treat every gun like it's loaded. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Her fingers wiggled in anticipation. I couldn't help but fall for her natural charm. As cute as she was, I had to make sure I taught her gun safety properly. I couldn't let myself get distracted.

"Make sure you keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Now, this button drops the mag and then you clear the chamber by pulling this part back." I showed her slowly, then reloaded the gun and handed it to her. "Remember your trigger discipline." I reminded her.

She kept her finger off the trigger and went through the motions of clearing her gun and reloading it. I don't think I had seen her express this much positive emotion in her time with me. She still hardly spoke. It was occurring to me just now that her psycho uncle probably ordered her to only speak when spoken to. That thought made my blood boil. It stirred something in me, I hadn't felt in a long time. Her mind seemed to be more dark than light, but I was going to try my damnedest to pull more light out of this beautiful girl. She deserved it.

After going over the basics, we called Tank back to us and I let her start shooting at the standing targets at the far end of the range. I felt myself swell with pride as I heard the ting of her rounds hitting the metal targets. She adjusted to the kick back of the gun quickly and her grouping was good. She was a natural shot.

She had officially taken up permanent residence in my mind. Work was only getting a fraction of my attention for once, since I spent most my time worrying about her safety. Seeing her expertly handle this gun made me feel more comfortable leaving her on her own. She could defend herself if she really needed to. She was much stronger than she thought she was. I just couldn't wait until she realized it too.

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