Chapter 11
LENI
The air rushes out of my lungs as I watch Romero, my heart thumping in disbelief. This can’t be real. People don’t just snap their fingers and make problems vanish.
But he just did.
The relief is so massive it makes me dizzy, like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and can finally exhale. All that fear, that crushing weight of helplessness—gone. Forty thousand dollars of debt wiped away with a single phone call.
Mom and Ethan are going to be okay. We’re getting married, and I’m making a lot of money from it. In one year, when it’s all over, I’ll never have to worry about bills or scraping by ever again.
This has to be a dream. I’m going to wake up on my lumpy mattress and find out none of this happened. I pinch myself hard enough to leave a mark, hissing at the sharp pain. Nope. Real. This is actually real.
“Anything else, bellezza?” His voice is like liquid velvet, those vivid green eyes turning my way and scrambling my thoughts into mush.
Anything else? A dizzying wave of something—power, maybe, or pure euphoria—floods my veins. I can ask for anything else and actually get it? Just like that? A sharp breath rushes out of me.
My body acts before my brain can catch up, launching myself out of my chair and straight at him. My arms wind around his neck, and he catches me with a surprised grunt, not even stumbling despite the sudden impact.
He chuckles softly, “You–”
But I silence him with my mouth on his, ignoring every rational thought screaming at me about why this is a terrible idea and giving in to the desire that’s been clawing at me since I first laid eyes on this dangerous, beautiful man. Now, he stumbles back a step, his eyes going wide with shock.
He inhales sharply against my lips while the air between us crackles with electricity, hot and alive, but… he doesn’t kiss me back.
Shit, did I just ruin everything?
Panic shoots through me, and I start to pull back, to break the kiss and salvage whatever dignity I have left—then he reacts.
His arm tightens around my waist, yanking me flush against his body as his lips finally begin to move against mine. Slowly at first, careful. Then something seems to break inside him. A low groan rumbles deep in his chest, sending electric vibrations through me, and my eyes flutter shut.
The kiss deepens as he parts my lips with his tongue and starts exploring my mouth with a thoroughness that makes me shiver from head to toe. I feel weightless, breathless, like I’ve stepped off a cliff and am free-falling straight into him.
My fingers trail up his neck and slide into his hair, anchoring me to him before I float away entirely.
The strands are softer than I expected, smooth and clean beneath my touch—too perfect, just like the rest of him.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, lost in the kiss, but when he pulls back, it’s just enough to let our breaths mingle, his forehead pressing to mine.
His chest rises and falls against me, unsteady, like I’ve knocked the air right out of him—and honestly, I’m not breathing much either.
“What was that for?” His voice is rough, almost wrecked, eyes searching mine.
My lips are tingling, my pulse thundering in my ears as I meet his gaze. “Th–thank you.”
His thumb brushes my cheek with aching gentleness, and a slow, almost disbelieving smile tugs at his lips. “You–”
The office door suddenly swings open, shattering the spell. I quickly slide out of his arms as I spin towards the newcomer, who looks like he wants to disappear into the floor.
“Forgive me, Mr. Lombardi, I’ll leave, I—”
“No!” I shout, then clear my throat when both men stare at me. Cheeks on fire, I rush back to my seat to grab my bag. “I was just leaving.”
“Bellezza–”
I don’t look back at Romero or answer him. I just bolt from that office like I just saw the hounds of hell in there, my heart roaring so loud in my ears it drowns out everything else. What on earth came over me?
Shit, shit, shit.
At the bank of elevators, I mash the call button with shaking fingers. When the doors finally slide open, I practically throw myself inside, grateful to find it empty, and slump against the wall, gripping the railing.
I shouldn’t have done that. What was I thinking? How am I ever going to face him again?
But even as embarrassment floods through me, my lips still tingle with the phantom weight of his mouth on mine. It was the best kiss of my life. Granted, I’ve only kissed two other men, but still… this was different. This was earth-shattering, life-altering, ruin-you-for-all-other-men kissing.
What must he think of me now?
As the elevator descends to the ground floor, my heartbeat slowly returns to something resembling normal, the fire in my blood cooling to a manageable simmer, and I’m able to think rationally again.
I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I was just thankful, that’s all. Besides, we’re getting married soon—we’re going to do a lot more than kiss.
I nod to myself as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Yes, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. But my face is still burning as I walk through the glossy lobby, weaving between suited professionals and their briefcases.
To take my mind off it, I start thinking about the harder part—convincing Mom and Ethan that I’ve suddenly fallen in love with someone and am getting married soon. Will they even care enough to ask questions?
I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen if Romero actually agreed to my proposal—because I honestly didn’t think he would.
Why did he even agree? I was so shocked when he said yes that I didn’t even think to ask. Most men would have laughed in my face or tried to negotiate the terms. But Romero just… agreed. Like marrying a virtual stranger was as normal as ordering coffee…
Can I even do a good job pretending to be in love with him? I’ve never been in love before, and it’s not like I had a great example growing up. That last year before Dad went missing wasn’t exactly blissful between him and Mom. And let’s be real—I’m not much of an actress.
I push through the revolving doors, and the cacophony of downtown Brooklyn traffic hits me along with the suffocating afternoon humidity of June.
Now… where’s my scooter? I scan the lot in front of the building, looking for my ancient, dented ride among the sleek luxury cars.
I handed Romero the keys earlier, and he promised to have someone drive it here for me, but I don’t see it anywhere.
“Miss Barlowe?”
I frown as a middle-aged man in dress pants and a neatly pressed shirt walks up to me. His salt-and-pepper hair is trimmed close to his scalp, and his soft brown eyes are framed by crow’s feet.
“Yes?” I ask warily. How does he even know my name? He doesn’t look familiar at all.
He offers a warm smile and extends a hand. “I’m Dean West. Your new driver.”
My new what now?
I shake his hand absently, my frown deepening with my confusion. “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t even own a car, let alone a driver.”
“Mr. Lombardi assigned me as your driver and has asked me to transport you around in his car until you can purchase your own.” He gestures towards the sleek Maybach, and my mouth falls open.
Purchase my own car? Wait—he wants me to drive his ridiculously expensive car back home? To Brownsville?
Hysterical laughter bubbles up from my chest. There’s no way in hell that car would last the night outside my place without getting stolen—or someone attempting to rob us thinking we won the damn lottery.
“Oh, hell no.”
Dean looks concerned by my reaction, but I don’t bother explaining.
Without another word, I spin on my heel and march back into the building, heat biting at my steps.
The elevator ride to his floor feels like it takes forever, my anger building with each passing second.
By the time I reach his office, I’m practically vibrating with indignation.
“You can’t just assign me a driver without my permission!” I snap, barging into his office.
He's sitting behind his desk studying some documents with two other men, and when three pairs of eyes lock onto me, all my earlier embarrassment comes rushing back. Shit.
Heat flares in Romero’s eyes as he watches me, leaning away from his desk. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my partner,” he says calmly, waving me over.
I hesitate for a moment, then lift my chin defiantly, refusing to let embarrassment win. I did nothing wrong. He kissed me back.
The men greet me politely, and I nod in response, carefully avoiding eye contact with the one who caught us in a compromising position earlier. Romero murmurs something to them, and they both rise from their chairs, gathering the documents.
“Did I interrupt something important?” I ask once they’re gone.
He shrugs. “You don’t like the car?”
“The car is fine.” It’s a freaking Maybach. “But driving it home would be like waving a big red flag at a charging bull. I can guarantee you, if we park it in front of my home, it will be gone by morning.”
“Hmm, you may have a point.” He rubs his thumb along his jaw, and somehow that tiny movement is stupidly hot.
“I think it’d be safer to move your family out of that area.
Once we’re married, they might become targets, so I had one of the paralegals reach out to a real estate agent I know.
He's already emailed me a few options. Want to browse through them?”
Huh…?
The room does a slow, drugging spin around me, and as I sway, Romero is suddenly behind me, his hot hands anchoring me by the waist. “You good?” he murmurs huskily.