CHAPTER EIGHT
MARIA
I heard voices downstairs.
Luca’s, obviously. But the other—deep, smooth, and annoyingly familiar—made my heart do something ridiculous.
Lorenzo.
I hesitated at the top of the stairs, gripping the railing a little too tight. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be anywhere but here, giving me space and letting me stay mad at him for at least a full day.
But, of course, Lorenzo never did what he was supposed to.
Taking a slow breath, I walked down the stairs, refusing to let my feet rush just because my body betrayed me at the mere sound of his voice.
And then I saw him.
Damn it.
He was leaning against the counter, completely at ease, a beer in one hand, his other resting casually in his pocket. His black button-up was undone at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and his dark slacks fit him too well. The golden glow of the kitchen light caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the slight smirk playing at his lips, and those damn eyes—dark, unreadable, but always watching.
I hated that he looked this good.
I hated even more that my body reacted to it before my brain could remind me I was supposed to be mad.
So, I did the only thing I could—I shoved the feeling down, buried it deep, and masked everything with indifference. After listening to him and Luca going back and forth about some “warning,” I crossed my arms. “Why are you here? Lorenzo”
He pushed off the counter, closing the space between us in that slow, deliberate way that made my pulse do stupid things. “I wanted to see you.”
Luca just shot me an exasperated look. “I hate you both,” he said before walking past me, grumbling something under his breath.
I blinked after him, then turned back to Lorenzo, narrowing my eyes. “What was that about?”
Lorenzo smirked, taking a sip of his beer like he hadn’t just been threatened. “Nothing important.”
I exhaled, pretending I needed to think about it, even though I already knew I would say yes.
Because despite everything, despite how infuriating he was, I wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Fine.”
His smirk deepened like he knew I was already losing this battle.
I veered around, grabbing my flip-flops at the entrance of the kitchen before he could see my face betray me, leading him out to the garden.
The evening air was warm, the scent of jasmine thick, and the world outside was quiet except for the faint hum of the city in the distance.
Lorenzo slowed beside me, his gaze flicking toward a tree in the corner of the garden—the one with the low, thick branches, the one that had been here since we were kids.
His lips quirked. “Remember when you used to climb that?” My mind flickered back to the countless days and nights we had played here growing up. On those days, I would drown myself at the sight of him, wondering when he would ever notice me and stop seeing me as his best friend’s sister.
I snorted. “Used to? I could still climb it now.”
His brows lifted. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I smirked, tilting my head. “What, you don’t think I can?” I prayed silently that he didn’t dare me to climb it because I was already imagining how hard I would fall and break at least four joints and fracture at least seven bones.
He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “I just remember you getting stuck.”
I groaned, covering my face. “I was eight.”
“And I was the one who had to climb up and pull you down.”
I peeked at him through my fingers. “You were showing off.”
He grinned. “Maybe a little.”
I laughed despite myself, shaking my head, and just like that, the tension that had been pressing down on us loosened. I almost forgot that I was mad at him.
Lorenzo turned to face me fully, his expression softening. “Maria…”
Then, his voice pulled me back to reality.
I swallowed. “What?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “About yesterday…”
My stomach tightened.
“I shouldn’t have been dismissive like that,” he continued. “I—” He sighed. “I don’t want you involved in this world because it’s dangerous. Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
My chest ached, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, even though every part of me wanted to look away, knowing how hard it was not to want him when he gazed at me like he needed me. “You think I don’t know it’s dangerous?”
His jaw clenched. “That’s not the point—”
“No, that is the point,” I cut in. “I’ve been surrounded by men my entire life telling me what I can and can’t do, making decisions for me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t handle the truth.”
Lorenzo flinched.
I swallowed, pushing past the lump in my throat. “I won’t let you be one of them.”
I was expecting him to snap back, to tell me how stubborn I was, but he didn’t. That single act melted every courage and counterattack I was already rehearsing in my head.
Then, softly, “I’m not trying to control you, Maria.” His voice was quieter now and rougher. “But I do want to protect you if you let me.”
Something in my chest cracked open because I believed him. Because I knew him, and because beneath all the arrogance and sharp edges, his words revealed something deeper and something real.
I exhaled, looking down at my hands, knowing I was already losing this fight.
“Just…” I swallowed, “don’t be too quick to dismiss my feelings. It makes me feel unheard.”
Lorenzo stepped closer, close enough that I could feel his warmth and his presence.
“I won’t,” he murmured. “And I am sorry if I made you feel that way,”
And for the first time in a long time, a man didn’t invalidate my feelings. Something about that felt so reassuring and so safe. I could feel the tears slowly welling up in my eyes, but I pushed them back, not wanting to show him how much his words had touched me.
“I want to see the club.”
Lorenzo stilled. For a second, he just looked at me, unreadable as always. Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone, tapped something, and slid it back into his pocket.
“Let’s go.”
I raised a brow. “That easy?”
“You were expecting a fight?”
“Honestly? A little.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything as he led me to the car.
The drive was…awkward.
Not the heavy, unbearable kind of awkward—just a strange tension lingering between us. Like a space between us, waiting to be acknowledged.
I watched him. Too closely.
The way his fingers gripped the wheel, and how he shifted gears so smoothly, it was almost lazy. I watched how his throat bobbed when he swallowed and how his jaw clenched every time he was lost in thought.
“Maria.” His voice snapped me out of my trance. “If you keep staring at me like that, we’re gonna crash.”
Heat rushed to my face. “I—I wasn’t staring.”
“Oh?”
“I was just watching how you drive.” I lifted my chin, forcing my voice into something neutral. “I want to learn.”
Lorenzo glanced at me, and something amused flickered in his dark eyes. “Weird.”
“What’s weird about that?”
He smirked. “Because you’ve been able to drive since you were sixteen.”
“Fuck!” I cursed internally. I had been caught in a ridiculous lie, and the worst part was—I had no idea why I even said it in the first place. Did I forget this man right here knows almost everything there is to know about me.
Lorenzo looked far too entertained.
I exhaled and turned to the window. “Whatever.”
The drive continued in silence, but I could still feel his gaze flickering to me every so often, like he was trying to figure something out. Or maybe he already had.
By the time we pulled up to the club, the sun was already setting. The sky was washed in deep purples and navy blues. A few workers milled about, setting up for the night. Warm lights spilled from the entrance to the pavement.
Lorenzo parked, stepping out first. I followed, my heels clicking against the ground.
And the moment I took in the place, something hit me.
A strange, nagging familiarity.
It settled in my chest, an odd sense of déjà vu crawling up my spine.
The club was sleek and elegant but not ostentatious, with dark-tinted windows and a polished exterior. The large doors stood open, spilling out a soft hum of music, the scent of liquor, and something faintly spicy lingering in the air.
Then, a voice.
“Boss.”
A man stepped out.
He was tall and built like someone who could kill you in eight different ways before you even blinked. He had dark hair, sharp eyes, and a presence that demanded attention without trying.
Lorenzo nodded. “Dante.”
The man—Dante—turned to me, his expression shifting to something more welcoming. “And you must be Maria.”
His voice.
Something about it made my breath hitch.
It was deep and smooth, but there was something else. His voice was familiar.
I smiled, masking my unease. “Nice to meet you.”
Dante inclined his head slightly, and then he turned back to Lorenzo. “Everything’s ready inside.”
Lorenzo gestured for me to follow.
The moment we stepped in, it hit me like a freight train—the scent, lighting, and layout of the place.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
No.
No way.
My heart pounded, my fingers curling into fists as I slowly turned, my eyes scanning every inch of the club, memories colliding with the present.
I could still picture it: the bar, the booths tucked into the far corner, the dance floor—empty now, the glow of red and gold, and the way the chandeliers cast patterns on the walls.
I have been here before.
This was the club where I had met him, where I had first crossed paths with SHADE.
I was drunk that night. I had gone to at least four clubs before settling for the one where I had met him. They all looked familiar with loud music and dark lights.
My stomach twisted. The air around me suddenly felt too heavy. I was struggling to catch my breath.
Lorenzo’s voice broke through the haze.
“Maria?”
I turned to him too fast, trying to steady my expression, but I knew—I knew—he had caught something in my face.
His brows pulled together slightly, his head tilting. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing.
Everything.
I swallowed. “It’s just…” My voice felt foreign in my throat. “I think I’ve been here before.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened slightly, but his expression remained unreadable. “Yeah?”
I forced a nod. “I guess.”
Dante, who had been watching silently, crossed his arms. “Guess it’s a small world.”
A laugh stuck in my throat. Small world didn’t even begin to cover it.
My pulse pounded as I turned back to the club, my mind spinning with memories, questions, and pieces that didn’t quite fit.
What were the chances?
And more importantly—
What if Lorenzo knows Shade?