Son of the Devil

Prologue

Enzo Rossi woke up with a pounding headache, the dull throb pulsating behind his eyes like a relentless drumbeat. Blinking against the harsh glare of morning light filtering through the curtains, he groaned and shifted, only to freeze as the events of the previous night flooded back into his consciousness like a crashing wave.

Waking up next to a stranger was never an ideal scenario, especially when that stranger happened to be another man! Enzo rubbed his temples, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the night before. It had started innocently enough---a few drinks with friends to drown the sorrows of his recent heartbreak. But somewhere along the line, things had taken a decidedly unexpected turn.

He glanced sideways at the man sleeping soundly beside him, his features softened in slumber. Enzo's mind raced, trying to recall the stranger's name, but it remained elusive, lost in the haze of alcohol and lust.

What the fuck did I just do?!

Enzo's gaze lingered on the sleeping stranger beside him once more, taking in the details of his features softened by the morning light. The man's tousled hair fell in dark waves across his forehead, framing a face chiseled with sharp angles and rugged masculinity. Even in sleep, there was an air of confidence about him, a hint of danger lurking beneath the surface.

His eyelashes cast delicate shadows against his cheekbones, fluttering ever so slightly with each breath. A faint stubble graced his jawline, giving him a rugged allure that Enzo found both captivating and disconcerting. But it was his lips---full and slightly parted in sleep---that drew Enzo's attention, memories of their heated kisses still lingering on his skin.

There was a certain allure to this stranger, an enigmatic charm that defied explanation. And as Enzo tore his gaze away, slipping out of bed with a sense of urgency, he couldn't shake the feeling that their encounter was far from over.

No! He must end this now. He would put all of these behind him and pass it on to one bad dream---a fucking nightmare, so to speak.

Yet somehow...

"Ugh," he grumbled, wincing as he realized it wasn't just his head that was pounding. Everything hurt---his back, his hips, his whole damn body!

Shaking his head, Enzo slipped away unnoticed, his mind set on moving forward. To his surprise, he found his clothes neatly folded nearby. When he headed to the bathroom, despite the telltale marks on his skin, he was clean. Well, at least his mystery partner had been responsible.

What the hell are you saying, Enzo?! Get a hold of your fucking self! He scolded himself, giving himself a light slap. Why was he praising the guy who'd taken advantage of his sexy body? Wait, was it even taking advantage if he'd willingly hooked up? But then again, did he really agree, or was he coerced? Enzo cried inwardly in frustration---why can't he remember anything?!

Enzo was determined to escape the awkward situation as quickly as possible, not bothering with the details anymore. Maybe he'd think about it later. Or maybe not—better to just put it all behind him and never look back. This was just one time, one mistake. Surely, he wasn't alone in this kind of dilemma. Everyone made one huge mistake at some point in their life. This was his...

Glancing back at the bed one last time, the stranger remained deep in sleep. Enzo dashed toward the door, eager to get out of the man's life. He didn't even bother looking back...

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Entering the suburban neighborhood, the houses all looked alike---neat, cozy, and well-maintained. One particular home was a sight to see, with its pastel-colored exterior and a well-tended garden leading up to the front porch.