27. Ginevra
27
GINEVRA
I slam the refrigerator door shut with a thud, gripping the bowl of cookie dough I made earlier. A rush of cool air brushes my face, mixing with the warmth of the kitchen, but it does nothing to cool my frustration.
My gaze flicks to Lorenzo, still leaning casually against Dario’s marble countertop, arms crossed, a small, smug smile tugging at his lips.
“You can’t ignore me as if I’m not here, Ginny.” He sighs, his voice laced with a weariness I don’t care to acknowledge.
I do exactly that—I ignore him. Dropping the cold bowl onto the countertop with a sharp clink, I turn my back, focusing entirely on the dough in front of me. It’s a Friday morning, and surely Lorenzo has somewhere to be. Work, perhaps. He’ll get tired of standing here soon enough. He’ll leave once he realizes he’s wasting his time.
I press my fingers into the soft dough, testing its texture, acutely aware of his eyes on me, waiting for some reaction. But I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Come on, Ginny. You can’t seriously stay mad forever,” he persists, his voice teasing now, the lightness of it grating against my nerves.
I roll my eyes, biting back a response, and move toward the pantry, searching for chocolate chips. Lorenzo showing up this morning wasn’t exactly a surprise. I’ve ignored every one of his calls and texts ever since he signed that contract—the one binding me to a marriage with Dario.
The last time I saw him was at the charity gala last week, and despite things not being as strained with Dario as before, I’m still furious with my brother.
Because of him, I’ve been shoved into this uncomfortable, humiliating mess. I’ve been insulted, judged, and cornered, all thanks to his actions.
And you’ve had mind-blowing, animalistic sex with the man you’re supposed to hate. Twice.
My inner voice taunts, a hypocritical whisper I’ve tried—and failed—to silence. I ignore it, just like I ignore Lorenzo.
When I reenter the kitchen, Lorenzo fixes me with a determined look, arms still crossed, a familiar stubbornness etched into his features. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me, Ginny. I mean it. You know I do.”
“That’s your problem,” I snap, the words sharper than I intend. There’s a crackling tension in the air, despite my brother’s attempts to dispel it.
He steps forward, his tone softening just a fraction. “You know I’m sorry, Ginny. I never wanted this for you. I know you’re stuck with a man you can’t stand.” His lips curl into a teasing smile, but there’s an undercurrent of sadness in his eyes. “But I’ve also noticed you’ve been doing a lot of baking lately. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you only do that when you’re happy.”
He’s right about that. I’ve baked every day since Dario and I last slept together, trying desperately to distract myself from the desire that keeps bubbling up whenever he’s around. And since Dario’s been home more often, the temptation has only grown harder to resist.
I roll my eyes, unable to suppress the flicker of warmth at his observation. “Baking is my escape, Lorenzo. It doesn’t mean I’m happy about this mess,” I lie.
Guilt flares as I realize I’ve let Dario, the very man who orchestrated this situation, touch me while I’m still furious with my brother. A brother who, admittedly, had little say in the matter. But I can’t shake my disappointment in Lorenzo. I expected more from him.
“I’ve been baking because Rosa’s not here,” I lie, focusing intently on the dough.
“Rosa?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“The cook and head housekeeper,” I reply curtly, irritation bubbling up again. My hands pause their movements as I glare at him. “Stop talking to me.”
A low chuckle escapes his lips. “We haven’t spoken since all of this went down. Aren’t you even a little curious about how I’ve been?”
I turn to face him, arms crossing defensively. “And what exactly do you want me to say, Lorenzo? That I’m thrilled to see you? That I’ve missed you even though the mess we’re in is entirely your fault?”
His smirk widens, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re just as charming as ever.”
I scoop up a spoonful of dough, rolling it into a ball, ignoring the sarcastic edge in his voice. But his steady, probing gaze follows me, making my skin prickle. He’s waiting for something—waiting for me to crack.
“I’ll scoop out your eyes with this,” I mutter, waving the spoon at him in mock threat.
Lorenzo chuckles again, but this time his smile falters, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “You sound just like Papa,” he says quietly.
The mention of our father hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken memories. I pause, the dough resting in my hands as I think back to the way he used to push us, beyond our limits and to the point of exhaustion.
My memory of him was that he was always angry, and I often bore the brunt of his anger. However, whatever I suffered was nothing compared to what Lorenzo faced, especially since he was much older. He was also the expected heir to the Bianchi Empire.
“I don’t think I’m like him,” I huff, and that earns me a small chuckle from him.
“Yes, you are, at least right now,” Lorenzo teases. “You’re being extremely difficult, unforgiving, and grumpy.”
I roll my eyes again, but a small smile teases the edges of my lips at the fact that he’s not wrong. Children often take little bits of traits from their parents, after all.
“Papa wasn’t a bad man,” Lorenzo says after a few beats of silence. When I look at him, he has a serious expression on his face. “You know he only wanted the best for us.”
I don’t say anything because, well, I don’t have anything to say. I liked my Papa as much as liking parents went, but that’s where it ends.
Lorenzo continues, something distant flickering in his eyes. “He did some terrible things, but he wasn’t a bad person.”
Why does it sound like he’s trying to convince himself of that?
“Right, tough love and all that,” I reply, my tone sarcastic. “Was it worth it, though? Your children having to think very hard before they remember good moments with you?”
Lorenzo sighs before taking a step closer. “Maybe he didn’t care about that. All he wanted was for the family legacy to continue, and to an extent, that happened. The company was thriving…before everything went wrong.”
“And how’s the company doing now?” I ask, suddenly aware that I haven’t heard anything about it since my engagement to Dario. The only time I’ve seen Lorenzo lately was at the gala to which Dario took me.
To my surprise and pleasure, Lorenzo smiles. “The company is doing great, actually, thanks to Dario’s help. He’s really stepped up.”
I raise an eyebrow at his words, shocked that he’s giving Dario credit.
“That’s unexpected coming from you. Thought he was the bane of your existence.”
Lorenzo chuckles, and I can see a genuine happiness radiating from him, even brighter than the last time we spoke. Despite my earlier annoyance, that thought brings warmth to my chest.
“Dario may be everything I’ve said, but he’s kept his promise since…” He trails off, clearing his throat before continuing. “Even though he’s responsible for us getting back on our feet and owns the majority of the stock, he lets me run things as I always did. He’s not interested in overthrowing me or taking control as I initially feared,” he adds, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Although he’s still a jerk and we definitely don’t see eye to eye.”
I chuckle as his words do something to my chest. The thought of them no longer being sworn enemies warms my heart in a way I hadn’t expected.
A deep sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his inner conflict. “But I’m partly to blame for that,” he admits, his voice low and earnest. “And I want to make things right.”
Before I can push him further or ask what exactly he means by that, he swiftly changes the subject, catching me off guard.
“So, what’s got you all chippy today? I know you only bake in your happy moods. If you really hated Dario and this house as much as you say, I don’t see how you’d be in such a good mood. Is there something you want to tell me?”
A flush of heat rises in my cheeks.
Well, I’ve been experiencing an abundance of pleasure lately. As in, black-out orgasm after black-out orgasm. Who would’ve thought my enemy would be the only man capable of making me feel this much?
“In a weird turn of events, Dario seems to have that effect on people now,” I reply dryly, hoping the sarcasm covers up the truth hiding behind my words.
“That’s good,” Lorenzo says, his expression softening. A flicker of relief passes through his eyes, barely noticeable but enough for me to catch it. It’s the kind of relief that tells me maybe, just maybe, he believes I’m not as miserable as he once feared.
A thought strikes me then—Lorenzo would never let me get involved with a man he couldn’t vouch for. Despite their bad blood, they were once friends, and deep down, I know that’s not something he’s forgotten. He must be assured that I’m in good hands to have allowed this whole arrangement to go this far. Even if he’s not thrilled about it, the fact that he hasn’t fought harder against it says more than his words ever could.
As much as I want to stay mad at him for the contract, I know my brother. He wouldn’t have let this happen if he didn’t believe, on some level, that Dario could take care of me. And that realization makes something twist inside me—something a lot more confusing than I’m ready to admit.
“Since things are almost normal now, at least for you, I think it’s high time you start dating.” I smirk, shaping the dough with a deliberate casualness.
“Not this again, Ginny,” he groans, rolling his eyes, but I can tell he’s not entirely dismissive.
I stop mid-roll, my hands stilling on the dough. “It wouldn’t kill you to put yourself out there. You’ll be thirty-seven this year, Enzo. I want to be an aunt so bad. You know, take my little pumpkins to the park, bake them the sweetest tooth-rotting confections, and just be the badass aunt I’ve always dreamed of but never had.”
Lorenzo chuckles, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. He tosses it into the air, catches it effortlessly, and takes a bite before leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face.
“Well, you can still do all those things, Ginny. Just with your own kids. I’m sure Dario wouldn’t mind helping out by, you know, pumping you full of some little Ginny mini-me’s.”
I groan in disgust. “Oh my god. I so do not want to discuss Dario pumping me with babies right now. Especially with you.”
He laughs, clearly enjoying how flustered I am. “Like it’s not going to happen eventually. I mean, if you weren’t my sister, and I was in the exact same position as Dario—living in a house with a beautiful woman, with the whole marriage thing looming—I’d make sure she was pregnant before we even reached the altar.”
“Enzo, please stop .”
“Just telling you—you have my blessing to screw my ex-best friend, little sis. Am I not the coolest brother ever?”
If only he knew I already was.
“And that ends this conversation,” I say firmly, trying to hide the heat rising to my cheeks.
Lorenzo laughs again, but the sound softens, the teasing ebbing away. He takes another bite of the apple, his expression turning more serious as he leans against the counter.
“But, in all honesty, Ginny, I’m glad you’re not totally hating being here. And I need you to know…I’m still here for you. Anytime. The minute anything goes wrong, or Dario crosses the line—even by an inch—you tell me. I don’t care if it’s business or for the company. I’ll get you out of here. The company be damned. Okay?”
His words hit me like a wave, stirring up a mix of gratitude and a painful reminder of how much he cares. There’s that protective side of him, the brother who won’t let anything or anyone hurt me, no matter what’s at stake.
“Okay.” I nod, my throat tightening. “I know.”
I hesitate for a second before meeting his gaze again. “And you too, Enzo. Promise me you’ll put yourself out there more. You can’t hide forever. I’m not going to be around the house much anymore, and I don’t want you to be lonely, either. Just…think about it, okay?”
“I don’t have the time for that right now,” he says with a sigh, exasperation creeping into his voice. “With the company getting back on track, I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
I raise my eyebrows, not buying it. “And when business keeps doing well? You’ll just get busier and busier, making more excuses.”
“I just can’t commit to anything serious right now?—”
“Then when will you commit? When you’re forty? Fifty?” I challenge, cutting him off. “You’ve never even introduced me to a single woman you’ve been serious about. Don’t you think it’s time?”
He shakes his head, a small, reluctant smile playing at his lips. “Fine. I’ll think about it,” he concedes, though there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. “But I’m not promising anything.”
I chuckle softly, satisfied for now and making a mental note to keep reminding him of it. But as I finish shaping the dough, I can’t help but feel the shadow of our earlier conversation lingering in the air—what he didn’t say, what he’s still hiding.
Whatever happened between him and Dario…I need to know.
As I finish rolling the dough and arranging them on the baking pan, I put the pan in the preheated oven before returning back to sit by the island. In a few minutes, delicious warmth surrounds us, and the smell of chocolate chips fills the air.
As soon as I finish rolling the dough and arrange the cookies on the baking pan, I slide it into the preheated oven. A few minutes later, warmth envelops us, the rich smell of chocolate chips filling the air.
But the earlier lightness fades as I glance at the time on my phone and realize Lorenzo may have to leave soon for work. The question I’d asked earlier gnaws at me until I can no longer hold it in.
“So… why did you guys stop talking in the first place? What exactly happened? Every time I ask, you brush it off. I want to know, Enzo.” My voice drops, almost pleading.
Before he can protest, I add, “You owe it to me, considering I’m in this situation because of this beef.”
Lorenzo’s expression shifts, and another sigh escapes his lips. “You really want to know, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. I’m in a forced marriage with him for crying out loud,” I press, my tone serious. “I need to understand.”
A flicker of hesitation crosses his eyes, and he glances away, as if weighing his words. “Well, everything started on that camping trip when you were just four...”
Thick footsteps echo in the space as Dario strides in, his expression unreadable. The atmosphere shifts instantly, the earlier ease I felt evaporating like steam.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Lorenzo?” Dario snaps, his voice slicing through the air.
I bristle at his tone while Lorenzo exchanges a tense glance with me.” I was just catching up with my sister,” he replies.
“You’ll have more than enough time for that later. Right now, you need to be at work. I’m not investing so much in your company for you to slack off--”
“Dario!” I interject, stepping forward. “He was just--”
“It’s fine, Ginny.” Lorenzo cuts me off with a tight smile, the warmth draining from his demeanor. “I was already about to leave anyway.”
I’m fuming, barely able to contain my anger as Lorenzo presses a kiss against my forehead.
“I’ll see you later,” Lorenzo whispers with a small smile before grabbing his briefcase and walking away.
The moment he leaves, I turn to Dario, my cheeks flushed as my frustration bubbles over.
“Why are you such a jerk?” I scream, my voice trembling. “Just when I thought you were starting to show some humanity, you revert back to this!”
Dario’s expression hardens as he glances at his wristwatch, not even sparing me a glance. “I’m not in the mood to argue with you,” he says coldly, brushing past me as if I’m invisible.
Anger and resentment clog my throat, and I can’t hold back. “Asshole,” I shout, the words echoing in the now tense silence of the kitchen.
The moment he leaves, my chest feels heavy. Intertwined with my anger is a gnawing suspicion. Dario must have eavesdropped on our conversation, interrupting before Lorenzo could reveal the truth. A tight knot twists in my stomach, and I can’t help but wonder just how bad the story really is.
The oven pings, signaling that my cookies are done. I turn it off and pull the pan out, but the sweet aroma does little to lift my mood. I arrange the cookies in a container, placing them by the fridge, and then retreat angrily to my room, the comforting scent fading behind me.
I stay holed up in my room for the rest of the day, having my meals brought up like I’m some kind of prisoner in my own life rather than the soon to be wife in this mansion. The weight of everything presses down on me, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.
That night, I toss and turn, the bed sheets tangled around me, sleep refusing to come. My mind is a storm of frustration, anxiety, and a gnawing sense of dread. I need to know what really happened between Lorenzo and Dario. The more I try to push it away, the more it claws at my insides, demanding answers.
As much as I’m furious with Dario for interrupting earlier, for being so infuriatingly controlling, I can’t shake the concern I feel for him. There’s this growing, stubborn part of me that worries for his well-being. Why? I shouldn’t care, not after everything. But I do.
Each passing minute drags out my fears, twisting my stomach into knots. What if the truth is worse than I imagined? What if it shatters whatever fragile peace I’ve managed to cling to? Worse still…what if knowing the truth makes me fall for Dario completely?
That thought terrifies me most of all.