Chapter 30 Sophia
W ith a yawn, I rub my eyes with my knuckles, trying my best to keep them open. I’ve been back from Panamá for about two weeks now, and my work keeps stacking. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep this up.
I glance at the time on the corner of my laptop. It’s 10:45 p.m. on a Friday. The girls wanted to have dinner with me, and that was the plan, until Max dumped four articles on my desk that should have been edited a long time ago, but he forgot to give them to me. Sometimes, I think he does this shit on purpose. Maybe he feels threatened and thinks I want his position. He should know better by now—I need this job, and I wouldn’t do anything stupid to risk it.
Amelia went MIA again after the big blowout we had, and I’m trying not to read into it. I’m going to act blissfully unaware this time around and assume she and Miles are completely thriving and I won’t hear from her ever again. A girl can dream, right?
I stand from the chair I’ve been sitting in for the past four hours, groaning as I stretch my back. I wish I could afford a bigger place and have an office space; working on the dining table is not ideal. But it beats staying in the office until the night hours, I guess. With another yawn, I enter the kitchen and get another coffee pot going, because I’m going to need the caffeine if I’m ever going to finish this on time. Once the coffee pot starts brewing, my phone pings with a text.
Lorenzo
Are you home?
Me
Depends. Is this a booty call?
Lorenzo
Answer the question, Blue.
Me
I don’t want to answer your question, Ace. Answer mine first.
I purse my lips, trying to hold back the giggle that wants to bubble out of me. I haven’t seen Lorenzo since we came back from Panamá, and I honestly miss having him around. I’ve also been dying for another repeat of everything that happened between us the last few days we were there.
Okay. Did you just say you miss him? Are you okay?
Yeah, I mean…who else is going to push all of my buttons?
I’m supposed to be following him around to finish this article, but work has been so busy I’ve been canceling on him. I also don’t know what to do with it anymore. There’s so much to unpack when it comes to him, and it feels wrong to do it now. I have hundreds of pages written on my laptop, I just have to organize them. Selfishly, though, I want to keep this side of him in a little box and protect it from the rest of the world. He doesn’t deserve to have his life put under a magnifying glass for people to judge. I think he’s had enough of that.
But this is your job. And he agreed. You have to do it.
As I’m serving myself another cup of coffee, there’s a knock on my door. I frown. It’s almost 11:00 p.m., who the hell is knocking at my door at this time? I ignore it and walk back to the dining table to get back to work.
“Blue, stop ignoring me,” Lorenzo says, pounding on the door.
I grab my favorite cardigan, put it on, and open the door, crossing my arms. “I don’t have time for a booty call.”
He lifts his arms where he’s holding some takeout bags from Lorenzo’s. “I’m here to feed you. Must you always think the worst of me?” he replies jokingly, pushing me to the side and walking in. “I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I brought one of everything.”
I close the door, following after him. “The whole menu?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. I felt like cooking after a long day,” he says, shutting my laptop. “Where do you want me to put all of this?”
I stand there in shock for a moment. He thought of me and decided to cook the whole menu of his restaurant to make sure I had options. And he’s acting like it’s no big deal. This is the most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me, well…ever. Is this how it feels being taken care of? It’s unsettling, but also nice…like I could grow used to this.
Keep it together. This is not forever, and it’s expiring sooner rather than later.
I make my way to the table, brushing his hand away from my things. “I got it.” I grab all my work things, putting them in my bag. “Why are you really here, Lorenzo? It’s Friday night. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, partying it up and getting into bed with a bimbo ?”
His soft laugh echoes through the apartment as he starts opening the takeout containers. “Jealous?”
More than anything.
The idea of Lorenzo sleeping with other women makes me green with jealousy, but I will never admit it.
I shake my head a little too quickly, scrunching my nose. “We never said we were exclusive. You can sleep with whoever you want.” The lie slips out of me easily.
He stops opening the plastic container that has some delicious-looking pasta and looks at me. “Okay, it’s time you and I define this deal a little better.” He brings a chair out and tilts his head toward it. “Sit. Let’s eat and talk.”
“What have I told you about pulling chairs for me?”
“ Sit . Down .” His tone is raspy and demanding, not leaving room for discussion. “I’m not above grabbing you like a sack of potatoes and dropping you on this chair.”
Why does the idea of him picking me up, caveman style, make me a puddle? My core tightens with need at the thought, ready to give in. I’m tempted to stay stubborn to see if he’ll deliver his promise. But something stops me.
He’s trying to be nice. Let him.
I relax my shoulders and sit without a word. He brings the other chair next to me, also sitting.
“Okay.” He drops his elbows on the table. “What do you want out of this deal?”
“Could you be any more direct?” I roll my eyes.
“Chandler Bing from Friends . Cute. You sure love quoting that show. Doesn’t exactly count, though.” His lip lifts in a soft smirk. “And stop evading my question. ”
I scowl at him as I grab and eat a piece of garlic bread. He’s a little too good at our little game, and it’s driving me crazy.
I’m not sure what I want out of this. Does it kill me not to be exclusive? Yes. I don’t want him sleeping with other women while we do this. And honestly, I don’t want to sleep with other men either. Lorenzo is fun , and I want to be around that this summer. He’s grown on me. He makes me laugh . He doesn’t make me feel like my weaknesses are a nuisance. He doesn’t judge me. He’s simply there and knows what I need. Does it scare me, not knowing what will happen in the future? Not really. Neither of us is the relationship type. This is the perfect recipe for us to have some fun and then part ways at the end of it. Stay friends or whatever. I’m acutely aware we’ll be in each other’s lives forever, but it doesn’t have to be awkward. We’re both adults.
“I already told you. Friends with benefits until the end of August. We have some fun sex, and we end it before going to Las Vegas. We keep things strictly casual, we keep emotions out of the way.” I shrug. “Sounds easy enough for two people who don’t do the love thing, anyway.”
“Do you want to be exclusive in the meantime?” he asks, plain and simple. That’s Lorenzo for you. Extremely honest—and I mean that in every sense.
I shrug again, not answering, and biting another piece of bread instead. When did I become such a quiet bitch? I want to speak up, but I can’t find the right words. Yes , I want to be exclusive. Is that so hard to say?
He takes the last piece of bread I have in my hand and drops it in the container. “Who knew you could go quiet on me?” he asks with a laugh. “That’s fine. I’ll speak—I don’t want to fuck other women, and I most definitely don’t want you fucking other men,” he deadpans .
My eyes bulge, finding his and trying to find any trace of mirth. His face is enigmatic and serious. Not the Lorenzo I’ve gotten to know and like.
His hand grips the legs of my chair, pulling it toward him to close the gap between us. “While I fuck you.” His tongue flicks across his bottom lip, eyes dropping to mine, intense and unwavering. “While I make you come with these .” He wiggles his fingers, the gesture slow and deliberate, his focus never leaving my lips. “While you come around my cock.” His gaze snaps back to mine, locking us in a stare that makes my heart stutter. “You’re mine ,” he growls.
His thumb runs across my bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine.
“And Bella? 1 ,” he whispers, his voice low, sultry, the kind that makes you lean in without realizing, “I’m a selfish motherfucker. I don’t like sharing.”
His eyes darken, full of that same dangerous edge I saw the night we met, thrilling and impossible to ignore.
After a beat of silence, he says, “Got it?”
“Y-yes,” I reply weakly.
“Good.” He smiles, leaning back. “What’s the deal again?”
“Casual sex. No feelings. We’re exclusive, and the deal expires the day before we go to Las Vegas,” I confirm, my heart tugging at my chest, knowing time is flying by.
Only two months left.
“Good.” He nods. “Let’s eat, shall we?”
“You still haven’t answered why you’re here,” I blurt. He could be doing so many things right now. Granted, I know now he doesn’t truly like the party scene like he makes it seem to the rest of the world. But still, I could think of many other things he could be doing than being here.
“Aria and Damian dropped by the restaurant today. I heard from Aria you’ve been working nonstop, so I wanted to check in on you.” He shrugs.
“Oh, okay.”
“And honestly? We haven’t seen much of each other and I miss having that sassy mouth of yours around,” he jokes, giving me a soft smile that makes his dimple pop.
I pick up a plastic fork and stab it into the pasta, twirling it around. Before taking a bite, I reply, “I kind of missed your annoying presence, too.”
His eyes dance with amusement. “I know.”
I roll my eyes at him and flip him off. “Forget I said anything.”
“I’m going to gain so much weight if I keep hanging out with you.” I shoot him a glare as I drop onto the couch.
He barks a laugh, sitting next to me. “I didn’t hear one complaint as you were scarfing down three pasta bowls.” He grabs my legs, placing them on his lap and brushing them back and forth with his fingertips. The feathery touch is innocent, but it doesn’t make me feel any less tempted to turn this night into something more. To get lost in his touch and his addicting kisses. To get lost in the way his eyes roam my body with heat and appreciation.
“Your food is too addicting. It’s all your fault,” I say, poking him in the forearm .
I rest my head on the couch and look at him. His head is resting on the couch, too, but his eyes are closed, so I take my time to just…stare at him. Lorenzo is a great cook. Now that I know this is his passion, I can see it all more clearly. I can imagine him being this big famous chef who travels around the world, teaching others. Come to think of it, the only time I’ve seen him happy, he was cooking— both times. Don’t get me wrong, Lorenzo is overall an outgoing person, but most of the time, that sparkle doesn’t reach those beautiful whiskey eyes of his. Knowing this tugs at my heart. The worrier side of me is starting to come out, and I need to shut it down. He doesn’t need me to take care of him—I can’t afford to take care of him, even when there’s nothing I would like more.
“I can feel you staring at me. If you want to jump my bones, all you have to do is ask,” he says through a playful grin, his eyes still closed.
I grab a decorative pillow and throw it at his head. “You wish.”
His eyes snap open with a playful smirk still etched on his face, and he jerks my legs, a small gasp mixed with a laugh escaping my lips as he sits me on his lap. His warmth brings me a moment of serenity. My usual racing thoughts wash away every time he’s around me. Somehow, he grounds me.
He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, something I’ve noticed he loves doing, and inhales deeply. I clench my thighs involuntarily, loving a little too much the feel of his hot breath against my skin.
“You smell so good.” His voice is gravelly against my neck, and he presses soft kisses all over. “E tu sei così bella? 2 .” He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, making me straddle him now. His knuckles brush my collarbone before pressing a kiss there. “Perfetta? 3 .”
I whimper at the deep sound of his voice, my eyes fluttering as he keeps pressing soft kisses along my neck, shoulder, and collarbone. I have no idea what he said, but it doesn’t matter. Anything that rolls off his tongue, especially in Italian, ignites a fire in my belly.
He presses his lips on mine in a soft and slow kiss. I never thought something so relaxed and sensual could make me clench with need. But here I am— desperate for him. Looking for any sort of friction, I start grinding myself against him, the swell of his growing erection giving me the perfect pressure against my clit, even with all the fabric between us I so desperately want to get rid of.
“ Blue ,” he warns, biting my lip, his fingertips digging into the flesh of my waist, holding me still. “I didn’t come here for this. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He places a strand of hair behind my ear, his beautiful, haunting brown eyes meeting mine. “I just wanted to see you and spend time with you. Because I honestly really fucking missed you.” His tone is so sincere, my heart flutters.
I remove the firm grip he has on my waist and start grinding against his throbbing cock again, not breaking eye contact. “I know,” I whisper, closing my eyes and brushing my lips against his. “I want this.”
More than anything, I desperately want to regain focus on what this is—a simple deal, a casual fling. I need to remind myself this is just sex, nothing more. Even though I’m starting to doubt every step I’ve taken since I had this dangerous and thrilling idea.
1 ? Beautiful.
2 ? You're so beautiful.
3 ? Perfect.