Chapter 17 Sophia
I t took Lorenzo about an hour and a half to convince me to get on his jet. Then it took another thirty minutes for us to leave without him telling me what our destination was. How Lorenzo managed to not lose his shit while I gave him so much pushback, I’m not sure, but I’m impressed.
As I step off the jet onto the tarmac, the first thing that hits me is the warm breeze. The sun is bright and high in the sky, and I have to squint to adjust to the light. The rapid change in temperature causes goosebumps all over my body, but I welcome it. We get in the car that was waiting for us on the tarmac, and as we exit the airport, I’m greeted by the biggest Bienvenidos a Panamá ? 1 sign ever.
“Why the hell are we in Panamá?” I ask, turning to Lorenzo.
“I’m opening a restaurant here next month. As?—”
“Wait, wait. Let me get my recorder,” I interrupt, opening the overnight bag he made me pack. I don’t think I have a single good outfit, but it’s just one night, so I’m not too worried.
He stops me with a firm hand on my arm. “Okay. I think it’s time to talk about my rules.”
With an eyebrow raised, I look at him. And I instantly wish I hadn’t. The more time I spend with Lorenzo, the more things I notice about him. His brown hair is soft and always falls perfectly into place without any effort. The way it catches the light, it almost seems to have a faint golden tint. Memories of me fisting his hair as he was giving me the orgasm of my life flood through my mind involuntarily, and I look away, trying to calm these stupid, racing thoughts.
I start picking at my nails, trying to regain my composure. “Rules? You have rules now?”
He runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly. And what do you know? His hair falls right back into place. “Yes, rules. For one, no tape recorder.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. I need it for work.”
“Hear me out first. The rule is simple—you’re going to live in the moment. Get to see everything I do. You’re going to write down notes and questions you may have for me, and at the end of the day, you’ll pick your question—only one question,” he explains.
I gape at him. “Only one question?”
He nods. “Oh, and I get to ask you a question, too. That’s my second rule.”
I squint at him in suspicion. “I don’t understand why you have to ask me questions. I’m writing an article about you, not the other way around.”
“Because it’s fun. It’s a game we can look forward to at the end of the day,” he replies with a boyish smile that makes my stomach flip .
“Does everything have to be a game with you?” I ask, exasperated.
“Is that your question of the day? It’s kind of early, if you ask me. You may want to reserve it for later.” He grazes his upper teeth with his tongue before flashing me another one of his perfect smiles.
I hesitate for a moment. Wait . Why am I hesitating? Do I actually want to play this game? That’s ridiculous. The last thing I should be doing is entertaining someone like Lorenzo. I know men like him. For them, everything can be turned into a game. They treat people like their personal little circus.
“I’m not playing this game,” I state firmly.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s stupid,” I retort.
“No, it isn’t,” he counters.
“Yes, it is.”
“ Blue ,” he warns.
“ Ace ,” I reply, raising an eyebrow.
“Come on, live a little.” He nudges my arm with his elbow gently.
Would it be the worst thing?
It’ll allow me to be in the moment, observing his every move, how he interacts with people, and how he works behind the scenes. I can narrow down the questions and focus on the ones that will truly help me write this piece. I typically journal everything down at the end of the day on my work laptop and start forming my own opinion as I continue to research, anyway, so it’s really not a big deal.
I can’t lie to myself, it does sound fun and harmless—as long as I don’t let him ask any deep personal questions. I’m not about to spill all of my darkest secrets to him.
I extend my hand. “You’ve got yourself another deal. ”
He takes my hand and shakes it, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Now that’s what I call living.”
The SUV makes a stop in front of a villa, and as I’m stepping out, my breath hitches at the sight. The white walls stand out against the bright-blue sky, and the flat black roof adds a sleek touch. Floor-to-ceiling windows invite the sunlight into the house. The yard is filled with white, purple, and bright-pink Madagascar periwinkles. The cement path is lined with white and light-gray rocks around the bushes, and soft lights surround them that I almost miss because it’s still broad daylight. Lorenzo opens the door, and I’m greeted by a beautiful, open floor plan. The living room is spacious and bright, with a white L-shaped sofa that looks incredibly inviting. The kitchen is also huge, featuring state-of-the-art appliances.
I drop my overnight bag and take off my shoes at the entrance. “Wow, this place is amazing.”
I’m no stranger to fancy things. Aria lives in one of the best high-rise buildings in Chicago, and Isabella owns her place. My place is the exact opposite of theirs, only because I’d rather put all of my money toward taking care of Mom. As long as I have a roof over my head and some food, I really don’t need much else. But this place is fancy, like I-don’t-belong-here fancy.
Lorenzo drops his bag next to mine and takes my hand, leading me to the crystal doors near the kitchen. “You haven’t seen the best part yet. Let me show you.”
It’s hard to focus on anything else when my eyes are locked on our interlaced fingers. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but my heart races at an abnormally fast rate anyway. As he opens the door, a warm breeze hits me, carrying a clean, crisp scent. My jaw drops when I look up. The inside of the villa is stunning, but this view is beyond words. There’s a pool that cascades, making it look like it merges with the deep, beautiful, blue ocean. The bright-green lush of the mountains perfectly contrasts with the water.
I drop Lorenzo’s hand and run toward the patio, getting closer to the pool and dipping my toes in. Even the water temperature is perfect. “This is just, wow,” I say breathlessly.
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
I nod and glance over my shoulder, expecting him to be admiring the view. Instead, his eyes are set on me. My cheeks flush, and while any other man would look away when caught, Lorenzo doesn’t. No. He just...smiles. It’s soft and kind, one that makes me wonder what he’s thinking.
It makes me question if maybe, just maybe, I should break my one-night stand rule for him. Because that night was unforgettable, and I’ve never experienced such a charged and electric connection with anyone.
But I won’t. The game started and ended the day we slept together. We’re both players at heart.
And that will never, ever change.
1 ? Welcome to Panama.