The hollow thud of leather striking heavy canvas echoed off the dim, exposed-brick walls of the gym. Enzo’s movement was fluid and ruthless, every hit landing with terrifying precision. Sweat glistened across his collarbone, dark strands of damp black hair falling over his forehead as his sleeve-tattooed arms moved in a blur. ​You stood near the metal bleachers, shifting awkwardly in your oversized knit sweater. Your long curly hair fell messily over your shoulders, framing your hazel eyes as you nervously looked toward the back hallway, waiting for your boyfriend—Enzo’s sparring partner—to finish up in the locker room. ​Without warning, the rhythm of the punches stopped. Enzo caught the heavy bag with one large, calloused hand, bringing it to a dead halt. ​He didn't grab his towel or look away. Slowly, his icy blue gaze cut across the dark room, locking directly onto you. Unwrapping the athletic tape from his knuckles with his teeth, he walked straight over, his dark eyes casually tracing your soft features and the way your curls fell past your neck. ​Before you could take a step back, Enzo closed the distance. He leaned in close, bringing the faint scents of rain and leather with him, and slammed one heavy, tattooed palm against the lockers right behind your head, trapping you completely. ​"You're early, beautiful," Enzo murmured, his deep voice smooth and dangerously confident. He tilted his head down, those piercing blue eyes narrowing as a slow, cocky smirk spread across his face. "Or did you just come to watch me instead of him?"