Chapter 22 Lorenzo
T hree hours and two shopping bags later, we’re on our way back to the villa to drop everything off and go meet with Diego García to figure out a plan for the restaurant. The only reason it took us this long to get out of the boutique is that Sophia, unsurprisingly, fought me the whole time. She still ended up grabbing only the things she needed, plus a dreamcatcher for her mom, and made arrangements with the owner of the boutique to donate the rest of the clothes to any women’s shelters around the area. The thought was sweet, and perfectly her. That’s Sophia for you—always caring and thinking about everyone.
She kept on the blue dress I picked out for her, and it’s currently doing wonders for my ego. She’s wearing something I chose. Sure, I’d prefer her in something of mine—or better yet, nothing at all. Last night, I ended up jerking off hours after everything that transpired, because I couldn’t get the image of her grinding on my cock and moaning my name with that perfect, sweet voice of hers. I had plans, good plans, to repeat and go further, because I was barely able to get a taste, and I needed more. But she shut down those thoughts this morning, and I’m going to respect her wishes. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable, even though we both know it wasn’t a mistake. She makes the rules, and I simply follow them. At this point, I would mindlessly follow her to the ends of the world.
My eyes find Sophia, and as she’s looking around, unaware of what she does to me every time we’re close, I take this chance to admire her beauty like a pathetic fool. Her perfectly small, round nose, her long eyelashes, and diamond-shaped jawline. Her naturally soft, pink lips have a perfect cupid’s bow. Even her hair, in a messy bun, is perfect. The woman is so devastatingly beautiful, I wonder if she knows it.
Sophia stays outside to call her mom, and I walk inside the restaurant, trying my best to take deep breaths and not lose my shit at the sight of all the unfinished work.
“Diego, what’s up, man?” I say, shaking his hand and giving him a quick pat on the back.
“Nothing much,” he says, his brown eyes looking around as he scowls. “I fired the crew leader this morning, and I’m personally overseeing this project through completion. I had to bring in some extra help, but…” He sighs, taking his construction hat off and running his hand through his dark, curly hair. “It can be done on time for the grand opening. And we’re almost done with the kitchen, so you may be able to get some training done in a day or two.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “That’s better than nothing. You gave me a hell of a scare there for a minute.”
Sophia strides inside the restaurant, and Diego’s eyes roam her body for a beat too long for my liking. My shoulders tense as I shoot him a glare. She’s beautiful, I get it. Hell, I can’t keep my eyes off her, and that’s quickly becoming a problem. But when other men look at her, I want to take a knife and scratch out their eyes. Sounds reasonable and not at all crazy, right?
Diego thins his lips, holding back a grin and giving me a knowing nod.
“This is Sophia Evans, she works for Vogue Elite . We’re uh…” I hesitate for a moment. What the hell am I supposed to say?
Yeah, I wanted an excuse to spend more time with her, so I agreed to do an article, and to top it off, I asked her to spend the summer with me, because I’m a sucker for punishment. And let’s not forget about the fact we dry-humped like two horny teenagers last night.
I can’t even bring myself to feel embarrassed. In all honesty, I wish we could do it again.
She waves awkwardly. “I’m a junior journalist. We’re currently working on a fall edition article for this guy.” She points at me with her thumb.
Diego’s eyebrow arches in surprise as he looks at me. “And you’re doing this willingly?”
“ Yup .” I shoot him a withering glare.
We’ve been working together long enough that he knows how I feel about the media. We share the same sentiment when it comes to that. For Diego, it’s harder. He’s become so successful in such a short amount of time, the media is eager to get his claws on him.
Diego crosses his arms, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You know, someone from Vogue Elite , Max something, has been hunting me to do the same.”
Her shoulders tense at the mention of her boss, and I squint at her, but she avoids eye contact. “Yeah, that’s my boss. He can be persistent.” She forces a laugh, but her eyes are devoid of humor .
Diego presses his lips together, nodding. “Tell him I don’t have time for that shit.”
She nods with another fake laugh. “Noted.”
Someone calls Diego, and he looks over his shoulder, barking an order. That’s just how he functions. He’s the best in the business because his tactics are ruthless and gives no fucks about what people think. He gets results, and it’s exactly why I work with him even when he doesn’t have the shiniest personality.
Shaking his head, he says, “It has been a nightmare finding reliable people. I pay above average for this line of work, but it doesn’t stop them from doing a half-assed job.”
I nod in understanding, choosing to stay silent. If I had to guess, people are not fans of his attitude and that’s why he has so many issues finding reliable people. Regardless, he can afford to be that way. He took over his father’s construction business and escalated it to a whole new level by the age of twenty-eight while being a single dad. He’s as grumpy as they come, but the man is a legend. He’s now a thirty-year-old billionaire from Sunset Creek, a small town in Colorado, still a single dad and taking over the world with his construction business one day at a time.
We do one last walk-through so we can be on the same page before the electrical work is completed and the kitchen appliances are installed. The plan was to soft open the restaurant at the beginning of July, but considering how quickly the month is approaching, pushing everything back one more month should give us enough time to finish the clusterfuck of a mess his crew lead left behind.
“I’ll call you if we need anything,” Diego says once we finish doing the walk-through, both of us hanging outside, leaning against the veranda.
Sophia stayed inside to take a call that seemed important, and I wanted to give her the space, even if the curiosity was killing me.
“Do you need me to stay longer?”
“Not really.” He scrubs the back of his neck. “Only if you want to oversee the progress.”
“Yes,” I say without thinking.
The corner of his lips lifts into a subtle smirk. “Something tells me that decision has nothing to do with the business and everything to do with the girl.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug nonchalantly.
I’m not ready to admit to anyone why I want to stay in Panamá for a few more days. This place is beautiful, and there are so many fun things to do around here. It would be a shame not to show Sophia around. I’m sure she would love it.
And it’s the perfect opportunity to spend more time with her.
The rest of the day goes by in a flash. We go back to the villa, and Sophia seems quieter than usual. As soon as we arrived, she went to her room, and she hasn’t come out since. I had back-to-back Zoom meetings with some vendors, as well as the usual bi-weekly meeting with Vortex’s board members, which is currently happening. Being in this meeting is like a slow, painful death. I curse the day my great-great-grandfather decided to be a founding member. Couldn’t he have left it at being a war hero? No. He had to take it a step further, cursing all the generations to come.
“Lorenzo, are you listening?” Amos William, the president of the board, asks, pulling me out of my trance.
“Yes,” I drawl.
“Couldn’t you have been here in person for this meeting? This is the third time in a row you have met with us through a webcam,” James Smith, the treasurer of the board, says, annoyed.
“Well, considering I have a business to run, no. I could not have been,” I reply through gritted teeth.
James Smith has always had it out for me. The fact I’m the youngest vice president they’ve ever had, and that he’s not a particular fan of my way of living, means we butt heads more often than not. These people are so old school, it bores the hell out of me. In the beginning, when I took over the vice presidency, I was so eager to make changes, but they kept getting shut down to the point I started to let things go. To be fair, some of the rules are plain stupid . For example, you need to have a minimum net worth of five hundred million dollars to be a part of this club. We’re losing so much revenue due to this rule. I ran the numbers and the logistics of things and made a whole presentation about it.
But did they care? No.
Stuck-up, old-ass sons of bitches.
“We need to do something about Julian Molina. He got arrested, again . I know any sort of press is good press, but this is getting out of hand,” Amos says.
“I say we ban him,” James suggests.
I roll my eyes, even though I know I’m on a big screen and everyone can see what I’m doing. “Julian Molina spends millions of dollars a year in the casino. He practically lives there these days. Something you, as the treasurer of the club, should know,” I snap.
“No reason to take that hasty tone with me, young man,” James spits.
“I’ll take whatever tone I want to take when I have to point out obvious things. We’re not getting rid of him, period ,” I say sharply, not leaving room for argument.
Amos rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, letting out a resigned sigh. “Those in favor of banning Julian Molina, raise your hand.”
Only James raises his hand. At least the rest of the group has some common sense. That should bring me some sort of peace.
“Idiota? 1 ,” I murmur.
The whole board glares at the screen, and I shrug with a shit-eating grin on my face. I have nothing to lose with these people. They can’t get rid of me, even when I know they’re dying to. I’m not too happy about being here either, so at least we have that in common.
“Alright, then. We’ll give him a warning instead,” Amos says, dropping his folder on the table. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen. We’ll meet in two weeks, same time.” He looks at the screen. “And try to be here next time, Lorenzo, yeah? You already know how important that meeting is.”
I leave the meeting and snap the laptop shut without a reply. I’m so sick of these people. I’ve grown angry and so resentful at the life my father left me behind, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold on.
Sophia’s words echo in the back of my head. Don’t let others dictate your life, Lorenzo. It’s up to you to shape your own future and find your own happiness.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time for me to…let go.
That’s a crazy idea. You can’t do that. This is what your father wanted.
Yeah, but when is it my turn to be happy? When is it my turn to follow my dreams and my passions?
I glance at my watch, noticing it’s already dinnertime and I have yet to see or hear Sophia roaming around the house. Opening the crystal doors to the back patio, I find her sitting in one of the deck pool chairs, watching the sunset. Her hair moves with the air flawlessly, in a perfect movie slow-motion type of way. Her body is slightly shivering with the constant breeze, so I turn around and run to my bedroom to grab one of my hoodies. Once I find it, I head back out and shut the doors, causing her to startle and look over her shoulder. Her eyes lack their usual spark and are slightly puffy. Inexplicable fury rushes through my body as my eyes take her in. My first instinct is to run to her and hug her, but I hold back. My second instinct is to ask who did this to her so I can go take care of it, knowing I have no right.
You need to take a chill pill right now. She is not your problem to deal with.
Maybe I want to make her my problem. Would that be so bad?
I hand her my hoodie without a word. I’m ready to fight her on it, but she doesn’t hesitate and puts it on. I stifle a satisfactory groan at the sight of her wearing something of mine. The hoodie looks ridiculously big on her, fitting her like an oversize dress and making her even more beautiful, if that’s even a possibility. I never understood why men love to see their girls wearing something of theirs. But seeing her like this, something primal takes a hold of me. She looks very much like mine right now, even when I know it’s not real.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I simply nod, sitting next to her and looking over the horizon, admiring how the sun slowly dips, casting a warm, orange glow over the ocean. My fingers itch to touch her, to caress her cheek, maybe even her hair. But the rejection that would inevitably follow would sting. So I keep myself in check, even when I’m dying to do nothing more than to be there for her and to take care of her.
1 ? Idiot.