Chapter 25 Sophia
E ven with the beautiful Panamá weather, I’ve been holed up in my room all day, working on articles Max has been sending me to edit and proofread. Even though he was more than excited when I told him I was going to follow Lorenzo around this summer, my absence from the office didn’t stop him from giving me all this extra work we both know belongs to him, not me. This has been a secret I’ve kept since Max became editor in chief. It all started innocently when I told him I wanted to dip my toes into editing because I used to have a side gig during college, and I wanted to keep honing that skill. It’s not the same editing my work vs. other people’s.
He quickly agreed—that should have been my first red flag—and started giving me assignments here and there until they became more frequent. And now? I edit most, if not all, people’s work at the office while he takes all the credit. And while other times I would hate the fact I’m being drowned in work, it’s currently a welcomed reprieve, because I’ve been able to successfully avoid Lorenzo all day .
The next time I fuck you, Blue, it’s going to be because you want me—us. Not because you’re looking to escape reality.
That comment left me stunned. Isn’t that why he sleeps around, too? I can’t speak for him, but when I sleep with people, it’s because I want to escape reality, feel good for a fraction of a moment, and relinquish all control. I guess this means I have no way of getting him out of my system. He just had to be the voice of reason and ruin it. I practically—scratch that—I actually propositioned him, and he rejected me. The one time I decide to break my one-night stand rule and this happens. God, I’m an embarrassment.
Lying in bed, I brush a strand of hair away from my face with a frustrated sigh, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell my life has boiled down to. Single by choice and stuck with a job I could grow to love, if only I didn’t have the worst boss in the world. I wanted to become an author, yet that dream is so far back in my head it’s starting to accumulate spiderwebs. At this point, I’m not even sure it’s my dream anymore. I don’t even know what my dream is . I’ve been trying to survive and forgetting I have to continue to build my future. Except, I see no future in sight. I’m floating through life right now, and I have grown comfortable. Too comfortable.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and I bring my pillow to my face and groan. The knocking annoyingly continues until I hop out of bed and open the door.
The corner of his full lips twitches as his eyes roam my body. “Glad to know you’re alive. How’ve you managed to avoid me all day, I don’t know, but consider me impressed.”
“What a shame it’s over,” I murmur under my breath.
He purses his lips momentarily. “I checked in on the restaurant this morning, and they are working relatively fast. But we may need to stay a few more days. ”
“Cool.”
“Out of all the things I thought you were going to do, giving me the cold shoulder was not one of them.” He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “I had all these fun things planned for today, and you disappeared on me.”
I let out a long, resigned sigh. “Didn’t particularly feel like spending time with the guy who rejected me. And you forget I have a job.”
He doesn’t falter at my comment. Instead, he asks, “Ready to sleep with me because you want to?” He raises an eyebrow. “And isn’t your job to be my shadow and write the article?”
“That’s never going to happen,” I fire back. To myself, I mutter, “And no, I have many other things to do.”
“You keep saying these things with so much certainty, yet I never believe you,” he muses.
I’m not sure I believe the things I say much either. I told myself I was going to keep things professional, and we know how that turned out. I lied through my teeth and told him he wasn’t memorable. I’ve denied the attraction between us, day in and day out. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. Would it be so horrible to accept I want to sleep with him because I want to and not because I’m looking for an escape?
I could keep doing this back and forth with him all day, but I’d rather keep it in the back of my head at this point. With a resigned sigh, I ask, “So, where are we going?”
He perks up, his eyes sparkling as a smile plays on his lips. “You’re saying yes?”
“As long as what you have planned is fun.” I shrug. “I don’t see why not. ”
He rubs his hands together, giving me a mischievous grin. “Oh, it’s going to be fun, alright.”
After spending all day in my room working and feeling sorry for myself, this is the last place I would have thought I’d end up.
Yet here I stand, helmet and goggles in hand, getting ready to skydive . Adrenaline curses through my body, and I’m shaking from excitement. While other people would be scared, I get such a high from doing things like these. When we arrived and Lorenzo said what we were doing, tears threatened to come out. This was something I told him in passing while we were playing our silly question game, and he kept it locked in his memory. No one has ever done something like this for me. I’m always the one going the extra mile for everyone—not that I mind, it’s what I’m used to. And for once, I don’t feel like fighting back. This has been my dream all my life, after all, and I want to take advantage of it.
“You good?” Lorenzo asks.
I shriek excitedly. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m so excited I could throw up. This is the best idea you’ve ever had. Thank you.”
He grabs my helmet and places it on top of my head with a chuckle. “It’s no big deal.” His hand grazes my cheek as he fastens the helmet, and the simple touch makes my stomach flip. Leave it to me not to be nervous about skydiving, but one touch from Lorenzo and I’m a goner. “Only a girl like you would say it’s their dream to skydive. You’re a woman full of surprises, Blue.”
My traitorous little heart wants to leap out of my chest at the thought that he’s willing to do something like this for me. If it were any other person, I would be running as far away as possible. But Lorenzo has brought down my walls low enough, and I can’t help but feel thankful.
We sign the waivers as the guy at the front desk briefly explains what all the equipment is for. Our tandem instructors—which I learned is what they call the people who are going to jump with us—will go through everything and give us step-by-step instructions. The desk employee guides us to the plane we’re going to be using, and there are two guys waiting for us.
A tall, long-haired blond guy strides toward me with a bright smile. “Hey, Sophia, right? I’m Matt. I’ll be the one assisting your jump today.”
I nod, giving him a soft smile. “That’s me.”
“Are you nervous?” he asks as he guides us to a table where he starts checking the equipment. Lorenzo is with his instructor at the table next to ours.
I shake my head. “I honestly thrive on chaos and adrenaline. It has always been a dream of mine to do this.”
His gaze locks onto mine, scanning my face. An unexpected pang of disappointment hits me as I realize it doesn’t stir the same feeling as when Lorenzo looks at me. “Wow, it’s not every day I meet a beautiful woman who’s not afraid of skydiving. You’re a total badass.” He winks.
I give him a small smile. He’s flirting with me, and while I don’t mind the attention, it still doesn’t give me the excitement it used to. Much less the same stomach-dropping feeling I get every time Lorenzo flirts with me. The thought is jarring, and I hate it .
“Why, thank you,” I reply with a small, forced laugh.
He laughs, his hand reaching for my helmet. “I’m just making sure it’s secured.”
I nod, glancing over to where Lorenzo is standing. He’s watching us, shoulders tense. When I frown at him, his jaw clenches, and he practically shoots daggers at Matt with his eyes.
“Are you from around here, or just vacationing?” Matt asks.
“I’m here for work, actually.”
“Yeah? For how long?”
I shrug. “Not sure yet. Could be some days or a week.”
He nods as his eyes roam every inch of my body, making me visibly uncomfortable. But before he can say anything, Lorenzo strides toward our table and stands in front of me, giving me his back and completely blocking the guy’s view. “Would appreciate it if you could stop flirting with her.”
I take a step back, gaping at him as I tap his shoulder. “Lorenzo, what the hell are you doing?” I hiss.
He completely ignores me and crosses his arms impatiently. The shirt he has on today hugs his broad back and shoulders perfectly, and I can’t lie, the energy oozing out of him right now makes him look dangerously sexy.
Matt laughs nervously. “Hey, man. I didn’t know she was your girl. Sorry about that.”
Lorenzo doesn’t bother to correct him, instead, he bites out, “Even if she wasn’t, you shouldn’t be flirting with customers. You’re clearly making her uncomfortable, and I don’t appreciate it. Go find another employee, because you’re not about to jump with her.”
“There’s no one else.”
“Then we’re switching,” Lorenzo barks, turning around. His eyes are wild and a dark shade of brown I’ve never seen. “ Go with the other guy, Blue.” He tilts his head to the other table.
He’s pissed, and I don’t know why that gives me a sense of satisfaction. Without a word, I go to the other table where there’s an older guy.
“Gotta be careful what I say around you, I don’t want to get your boyfriend mad.” He extends his hand to shake mine. “I’m Harold.”
I thin my lips, holding back a laugh. Instead of correcting him, I say, “Yeah, he’s very protective.” I shake his hand. “I’m Sophia.”
There’s no harm in living in a short fantasy where Lorenzo is more than whatever he is right now, right? What even are we? Friends seems like a looser term these days.
We go through the safety list, and once everything is ready, we hop on the plane. When it takes off, I close my eyes and exhale. If Mom were here, she would pass out from the anxiety. This is one of the things I can never tell her about.
“Okay, listen up,” Harold’s voice cuts through the plane engines. “When we get to the door, I need you to cross your arms over your chest, like this.” He demonstrates, and I mimic the motion, arms tight against my chest. “Keep them there until I tap your shoulder. That’s your cue to spread them out like you’re flying. When we jump, keep your head back against my shoulder, and your legs tucked behind you. It’s important for stability, so we stay aligned during free-fall.”
I look up, my eyes finding Lorenzo. Matt is giving him the same instructions, but he has a scowl on his face, looking at Matt with a bored expression. The look on his face makes me laugh, but I try to keep it in check while Harold keeps talking .
“Once we’re stable, I’ll tap you, and you can open your arms. Just trust me and enjoy the moment,” Harold finishes, giving me a warm smile.
I nod, trying to forget about everything and live in this moment.
Lorenzo goes first, and once they jump, I step to the edge. Everything looks so small and insignificant from this high up, and it makes me think for a moment how much more there is to this life. How, even when I’m drowning in my problems most of the time, there’s more to look forward to. The wind roars in my ears, the deafening rush drowning out every other sound. My heart lodges in my throat with a wild rhythm that matches the adrenaline surging through my veins. The sky is the lightest shade of blue, with the whitest, most beautiful clouds I’ve ever seen, and the ground is a patchwork of green and brown that seems impossibly distant.
And before I know it…we fall.
For the briefest second, my stomach lurches, a free-fall that seems like it will never end. The air rushes past me, cold and sharp, biting my cheeks and tugging at my clothes. He taps my shoulders twice, and I open my arms wide as I start laughing to the point of tears. I laugh and laugh like never before. I’m weightless, suspended between earth and sky, untethered from everything that once felt solid and certain. It’s an exhilarating feeling, one I don’t want to let go of. All of my problems and swirls of thoughts wash away from me with every second we continue falling, and every sharp wind that cuts against my face. As my arms stay wide open, I let the wind catch me, lift me, and for a moment, I’m flying. Truly flying. Not just falling or drowning in the uncertainty of life and my decisions.
I’m… living .
This is the feeling I’ve been chasing. A reminder that I am alive , and I get to experience things like this. That I can take risks and be happy while doing them.
The parachute opens above me, yanking me back to reality. As we land, the world below me seems so peaceful now, almost serene, as a strange sense of calm settles over me. Once I’m settled, I quickly get out of the equipment, throw my helmet and goggles on the ground, and turn around, frantically looking for Lorenzo. When I find him, he’s already out of the parachute, too, looking at me with a bright smile. Before I know what I’m doing, I start to run and run until my legs feel like giving out and leap into his arms. I wrap my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist, hugging him tightly. Lorenzo easily catches me, his hands gripping the curve of my ass to keep me firmly in place. The sensation of having his body pressed against mine makes me feel alive all over again.
My lips find his ear. “Thank you,” I whisper shakily, on the verge of tears. “You have no idea what this meant for me.”
His eyes find mine, and he gives me the most mouth-dropping, gorgeous smile he’s ever given me. He kisses the top of my head then rests his chin on top of it. “Don’t thank me. I’m just glad I was able to help you forget about your problems for a moment.”
I knew he did this for me, but to hear that come out of his mouth makes my heart soar with so much…contentment.
It makes me feel understood.
But more importantly? It makes me feel seen.
After we skydived—I still can’t believe I get to say that now—Lorenzo decided he wanted to try to make Ropa Vieja . I’m currently cutting the vegetables as he’s seasoning the meat. I thought it was mesmerizing to see Lorenzo take over the poker table, with his natural talent and commanding presence. But him in the kitchen is something out of this world. He’s in his element, in every sense of the word.
“You’re holding the knife wrong,” he says, washing his hands and drying them on his apron. You would think he would look silly wearing one, but the man is so incredibly handsome, is quite the opposite. He looks ridiculously hot wearing a cedar-blue denim apron and a backward hat. He walks over and stands behind me as his arms wrap around me, his hand holding mine on top of the knife. His masculine, intoxicating cologne envelops my senses, and I hold myself back from doing or saying anything, because I selfishly want him to embrace me for a little while longer.
His lips are close to my ears, whispering, “Grab it by the handle and rest your finger against the side of the blade.” His hand guides my thumb to where he wants it. With his other hand, he tucks my fingers under, forming a claw shape. “This will help you grip the vegetable as you cut and keep the control.”
Lorenzo’s voice is naturally deep and sultry, capable of making anything sound sensual. His whispers in my ear send tingles down my spine and ignite a fire in my lower belly. I only manage to bite my lip and nod, because I’ve lost the ability to speak with his proximity. We cut the peppers in silence, the only sound between us the steady rhythm of the knife against the cutting board.
“Got it,” I manage to say hoarsely.
He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling. “Have I ever told you that you smell like summer?” he asks, his voice taking an even deeper tone.
I drop my knife and bite my lip again, stifling a small whimper. “Uhm, n-no. I don’t think you, uh, have.”
He chuckles softly, stepping back, and the moment he does, a wave of emptiness rushes in, leaving me cold in his absence. “It’s funny how someone as fierce and wild as you can smell so intoxicatingly sweet.”
I rear back as I look at him and tilt my head. “You think I’m fierce?”
He grins, his eyes glinting with admiration as he steps back in, just close enough that I can feel his warmth. “Oh, you are,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur that makes my heart stutter. “You’re fierce in a way that makes people take a step back. Like you could burn someone if they get too close.”
My cheeks heat up at his words. “I…had no idea you thought that.”
“I don’t think it. I know it,” he replies with one of his killer smiles, the one that makes his dimple pop.
With that, we go back to prepping the food in silence, but the air between us is charged with a tension thick enough to cut.
“When did you realize you enjoyed cooking?” I find myself asking, trying to avoid the energy that’s flickering between us.
He drops the vegetables in the Dutch oven with a tiny bit of extra-virgin olive oil, the sizzling and earthy smell filling the air. “Is this your question of the day? ”
I hop on the kitchen counter, swiftly grabbing my glass of wine and taking a sip before replying. “I have more than one question, so we should play another question game instead.”
As he sautés the vegetables, his lips twitch into a smile, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Enjoying playing games with me, Blue?”
I throw a fake gasp at him, bulging my eyes. “ Ugh! As if! ”
He throws his head back with laughter, but the way his neck stretches and his Adam’s apple bobs distracts me completely. “I was wondering when you were going to quote Clueless .”
“Damn it.” I slap myself on the thigh. “You’re so good at catching these. I hate this game.”
He shrugs as he tosses the meat into the pot. “I am good,” he confirms. “And I’ll play the game?—”
“Let me guess… under one condition ,” I try to mimic his voice as I roll my eyes.
He squints at me. “We’ve been spending too much time together, that’s the only reason you guessed it.”
“Maybe you’re just predictable.” I shrug, crossing my legs and taking another sip of wine.
“ I’m having a good time…not ,” he murmurs under his breath while putting the broth in the pot, waiting for it to bubble.
“ Wayne’s World . That was too easy. Score! You suck ,” I reply, pointing my finger at him. There’s no way he’ll catch this reference.
“That’s from Friends . Monica Geller said it, if I remember correctly,” he says, scrubbing his jawline while pondering.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “You do suck.”
His eyes find mine, and we stare at each other for a beat before breaking into a true, genuinely smile. Something that has been happening more often than not around him.
“And to answer your question,” he sighs, “ever since I was a kid.” He ponders as he takes the towel to clean his hands and drops it on his shoulder before crossing his arms. “I was so lonely, I wanted something to fill the little free time I had. Cooking became an escape, and eventually, my true passion.”
The rawness in his voice and the way his body language turns tense, more serious, takes me by surprise. If he’s loved this for so long, why deny it? That’s the question nagging at me the most.
I hop off the counter and stand in front of him, tilting my head as I study him. “So why do you hide it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t hide it, I just don’t tell the world. There’s a difference.”
“No.” I shake my head assertively. “You hide it. You hide behind this.” I flap my hand around, trying to find the words. “Behind this playboy, doesn’t take anything seriously, famous billionaire persona. The gambling. The partying. Do you even enjoy any of that?”
“Careful, that’s your third question,” he warns playfully. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I haven’t even told you my condition.”
“Do not give me that shit right now,” I snap. “For once, stop playing your games.”
He frowns and turns around without a word, reducing the heat and covering the pot.
I cross my arms and start tapping my foot against the cold, tiled floor. “Well?” I refuse to feel bad because of my tone. For once, I want him to take it seriously.
He turns around abruptly. “Cooking is more than my passion. It’s the only thing that gives me any peace,” he snaps, scrubbing his face with a weary sigh. “I’m exhausted, Blue. Tired of the lifestyle, the business, the suits. We’ve stayed in Panamá so long because—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “That part doesn’t matter. But part of the reason is, I’d rather be here, getting the restaurant up and running. I’d rather be here, creating and cooking, than stuck back in Chicago wasting my days drinking, partying, gambling—doing whatever I have to do just to stand the thought of being trapped in this life.” His words tumble out so fast he’s almost breathless by the end. When he finally takes a breath, his shoulders relax slightly.
I’m at a loss for words. This is…not what I expected. Here I thought Lorenzo was simply a reckless man, living on the edge because he could afford to. But he’s trying to escape his life, to have some sense of control, even though he knows damn well he’s stuck. And to an extent, I understand what he means. People may think, well, if you’re sick of it, stop doing it . But that’s easier said than done. Sometimes, life gives us responsibilities we can’t get out of.
My hand reaches his face, caressing his jawline. He closes his eyes, his breath hitching at my touch as he melts into it.
“That’s terrible, Lorenzo. No one should live like that,” I whisper.
He simply nods with his eyes still closed. As I caress his face, my head races with so many thoughts I can’t keep up with them anymore. Lorenzo is not who I thought he was, and this new revelation tugs at my resolve. Maybe opening myself to him of all people will be my undoing.
It will destroy me.
I can feel it.