Chapter 3 Sophia
T his has to be some sort of sick joke.
Maybe if you blink enough times, he’ll disappear.
Yeah, I don’t think that will be happening.
Life has a funny way of bending me over and screwing me. Surely, the universe finds it hilarious to put me in the most idiotic, nonsense types of situations. This is what I tell myself as I meet the eyes of the man who pinned me against the wall of a cleaning closet at a nightclub and fucked me a year ago.
The famous Mr. Three-Orgasm Guy.
Oh, God.
I slept with—from what I hear—the biggest player in the Chicagoland area. I sure know how to pick them. It’s always been an ongoing joke between me and Aria. Granted, the joke started when I went through one of the worst breakups of my life. And it was funny for a while. The perfect way to cope. I’m the queen of finding ways to turn something traumatic, or sad, into a joke. It’s how I can be the life of the party. But dread settles at the pit of my stomach at the realization that it’s not a joke anymore .
What is the matter with me? What’s so fundamentally wrong with me that I can’t even pick the right one-night stand anymore?
A lot of things are wrong with you. This is not a path you want to tread.
No. It isn’t.
“Shall we go back in?” Lorenzo suggests, tilting his head to the restaurant entrance.
“Oh, yes! I was coming out here to get you. Why did you disappear on us, Enzo?” Aria asks, crossing her arms.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say destiny wanted me to be out here, right in this moment, Red,” he replies with a light, amused tone, his eyes finding mine.
This man is messing with me for the hell of it. If he thinks I’m going to break in front of these two, he has another thing coming. Besides being the loudest of the group, I’m also the most stubborn—though I will deny it until the day I die. I wonder who’s going to break first? I’m sure as hell not about to tell Aria and Damian how well I know him.
His hand finds my lower back as he opens the door of the restaurant and guides me inside. The touch makes my skin hot, even though he didn’t make direct contact with it. Knowing this, makes me want to crawl out of my skin. The last thing I should be doing is feeling like this, so I swat his hand away and shoot him a withering glare. A small, mischievous grin plays at his lips as he raises his hand in innocence.
I force yet another laugh as I take some very much-needed distance from him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I’m trying not to stare back and gawk at him, but it’s useless. I can’t help it. I forgot how handsome he is. He’s ridiculously tall, about six-foot-three, if I had to guess. His dark navy suit fits in all the right places, hugging his broad shoulders and thick, muscled thighs. His white dress shirt has a few buttons undone, a small gold-plated cross pendant chain peeking through against his tattooed chest. His hair is slightly messy in an I’m-hot-and-I-can-rock-this type of way. But those eyes are what hold me captive. They’re as beautiful as I remember—a light-brown color with a touch of gold.
“You don’t believe in destiny?” he asks, taking a seat.
“No,” I answer, taking the farthest seat from him.
He frowns, rearing back in surprise. “Talk about being pessimistic.”
“Talk about being delusional,” I retort.
Destiny my ass. I’m just unlucky, and the world wanted me to get a hefty reminder of the fact.
“You seriously don’t believe in destiny?” His eyes gleam with mischief as he licks his bottom lip. “Not even at this moment?”
“Not even a little bit,” I confirm, practically shooting daggers at him with my eyes.
If I believed in destiny, it would be ironic. With my upbringing, I’ve always felt everything has been working against me. I’m aware of how egocentric I sound right now, but with the shit I’ve been through, it’s extremely hard to believe otherwise.
Aria is silently taking in our strange exchange, moving her head back and forth. Damian is, well, being Damian, and remaining enigmatic.
Instead of answering, Lorenzo zeroes his thrilling eyes at me and raises an eyebrow, silently asking me, Ready to give up yet? And I simply stare at him back with a blank expression. I will never give up. Not because it’s not in my nature, but because, honestly, fuck the patriarchy. Men have been on top for far too long.
“Do you guys know each other?” Aria asks.
“No,” we speak at the same time without breaking eye contact.
I can see Aria from the side of my eye trying to get my attention to drill me with silent questions. When you’ve been best friends long enough with a person, you can have a silent conversation by looking at each other. This woman knows me well. If I look at her, my cover will be blown. Aria is the one person I can’t lie to. She can always smell the bullshit coming from a mile away. I know I’m going to have to confess eventually. It’s not like this is going to be the last time I’m going to see Lorenzo.
This is so messed up.
A waitress appears at our end of the table and asks, “Anything I can get you guys to drink?”
As Aria and Damian request what they want, we’re both still staring at each other.
“What about you, handsome?” the waitress asks Lorenzo, her tone flirty and playful.
He breaks eye contact and looks at the waitress, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m good. But a gin martini with a twist for the pretty lady over here.” He nods my way.
One, did he seriously call me a pretty lady ? And two, he remembered my drink order?
“Pretty lady? Are we in 1929 or something?” I snap.
“Or something,” he muses.
“How do you know her drink order?” Aria scrunches her nose in confusion.
“Wild guess,” Lorenzo replies with a casual shrug.
Yeah. And the three gin martinis he bought me a year ago before burying himself inside of me. That’s what I really want to say, but I stay quiet instead.
The waitress takes drink orders for the rest of the party, her eyes finding Lorenzo every chance she gets. Once she finishes and leaves, she starts to sway her hips, obviously trying to catch Lorenzo’s attention. Hell, it even catches mine. She has such a nice ass, I’m almost tempted to ask about her gym routine. I shift my gaze to Lorenzo, hoping to catch him staring at her, but instead, his eyes are settled on me. His gaze is so intense, it makes every nerve in my body feel alive for a moment. I straighten my back, flicking my hair away from my shoulder as I hold his gaze and raise an eyebrow. Any other normal person would be embarrassed, but him? He flashes me with a stupid, dangerous smile, the infuriating dimple on his left cheek making an appearance as he keeps holding eye contact without any ounce of shame.
This man sure is something else.
Memories of that night invade my mind. Like the way his hand grasped the nape of my neck, possessive yet gentle, before sealing his lips on mine. The way his body pressed against mine as he so easily lifted me and pinned me against the wall while our tongues continued to explore each other’s mouths. Warmth overtakes me, and I can almost taste the faint sweetness of smoky whiskey on my lips, just as I did that night.
Why is this happening to me?
I would have been happy to never have crossed paths with him ever again. Yes, the sex was hot, and yes, the man is practically sculpted like a Greek god, but that’s the extent of it. I don’t do repeats. It’s my one non-negotiable rule. Even if I’ve come to regret it from time to time since that night. But now, knowing full well who he is? Yeah, that door is shut. I already threw away the key and everything.
Lorenzo drops his elbows on the table. “So, how long have you guys been best friends ?” He directs his words at me. “And how come we’ve never met?”
I start picking at my nails with a bored expression, refusing to answer him.
“Sophia has a really busy schedule. She works for Vogue Elite . She rarely gets the chance to hang out with us,” Aria chimes in, ever the sweet girl who wants to keep the peace.
He nods, visibly impressed. “What do you do there?”
“Junior journalist,” I answer.
He scrubs his face for a moment, pondering. “Someone recently reached out to do an article about me at Vogue Elite . Max Steiner.”
Oh no. No, no, no.
Oh, you unlucky bitch.
Aria goes to say something again, but I stomp on her leg with a shut the fuck up look.
“Oh, that’s Sophia’s boss,” Damian chimes in instead. “Did you accept?”
Man , my best friend sure has a blabbermouth of a fiancé.
He gives Damian a pointed look. “You know I didn’t.” Lorenzo’s eyebrows lift, his eyes filling with curious interest. “Though?—”
Before he can continue, a beautiful woman with curly, black hair strides to our table, interrupting us. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’re supposed to be singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and cutting the cake now,” she exclaims, griping Lorenzo’s forearm.
He rolls his eyes, standing. “You’re lucky I like you, Ivy.”
“ Please . You’re the lucky one to have such a wonderful best friend like me.” She crosses her arms, and I decide at this moment, whoever she is, I like her.
We all stand and walk to the table where the cake is. And while everyone is singing, his eyes, accompanied by a knowing, playful smirk, never leave mine. Not even when he leans over and blows the candles. Not even when everyone around him is congratulating him.
I have a feeling this is not going to be my last encounter with Lorenzo Mancini, nor the last time he’s going to push my buttons. One player can recognize another, after all. He’s having entirely too much fun with this, and it’s only fair I have my own share of fun.
Bring it on, player.
I’m ready.